These days, when I read something bad about someone on-line I tend to take with a grain of salt, or perhaps even several–I’ve too often taken such stories at face value when I shouldn’t have. But if this is true, it’s utterly despicable.
The View from the Foothills
A tiny principality in the Commonwealth of Letters
The View from the Foothills 
Yeah, that’s the kind of ugly thought that often slips out of the mouths of people when they let their internal censors take a ten minute break. Not unlike Karl Rove last week saying, in reference to the exact same storm, “The Republicans can’t catch a break when it comes to the weather in August”.
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Both were reflecting on the effect of the disaster on their own particular interests, rather than on the danger to the people of Louisiana, I’ll grant you. But Rove (as you’ve reported him–I’d not seen that) was at least saying “This is a bad thing”, not “This is a good thing.”
Your point is well taken, of course; and mostly good people can utter ugly thoughts from time to time. It’s certainly easy to get caught up in a contest, like the presidential race, and get tunnel vision about it, which I expect is what happened here. Nevertheless, given Katrina three years ago, and the similar magnitude of Gustav, it certainly seems to show a distressing disregard for human life.
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Well, obviously the spin is a little different, but Rove isn’t saying “Wow, that storm’s gonna be bad for the Gulf region.” He’s saying “Wow, that storm’s gonna be bad for Republicans.” Both are observing the political impact of the storm, not the impact of the storm on real people’s lives. The only difference between that sentiment and what that Democrat said is basically the difference between “Wow, it sucks to be us” and “Ha ha, it sucks to be you!”
(I seem to be doing more commenting on blogs now that I’m not blogging myself anymore. Weird, that.)
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I’ve no particular interest in defending Rove here. But let me tell a story.
When I was in junior high, my dad’s business partner had yacht he used to race, and my dad would often help crew it. One particular weekend, I was supposed to go along. I was thrilled, because I’d never been allowed before. And I woke up on Saturday morning and went downstairs, and my dad told me that my grandfather had passed away the night before.
Needless to say, we didn’t go racing.
Now, I mourned my grandfather. I was also sorry that I couldn’t go racing. (I’m still sorry about that, actually, as I never had another opportunity.) Which of the two is more important? My grandfather’s death, by far.
My point is, it’s not inconsistent of me to be sorry about both things. It would be improper for me to be more sorry about the race than about my grandfather, but it’s reasonable for me to be sorry about both. Expressing sorrow about missing the race doesn’t necessarily betray a lack of proportion in my responses.
Now, suppose my little brother was jealous that I was going to go racing when he had to stay home. (Please note, I do not, in fact, have a little brother.) And suppose that he was overjoyed that our grandfather’s death prevented me from going, so much that he gloated and danced around the house. Wouldn’t you think that his response was improper?
Now, I’ve not seen Rove’s comment in context. He might have been every bit as dismissive of the safety of the people of the Gulf Coast as the folks I linked to above. Or he might not have been. I can’t tell from what you’ve said. But to take joy in an impending calamity for any reason strikes me as wrong.
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