Everyone needs a helping hand, every now and then. But sometimes that helping hand comes with an anal brain attached to it.

The story of the “relief” effort, in the mega retirement compound where my parents reside, was so pathetic and skewed that it just makes you want to rush and string politicians up by their balls (or boobs if they lack the balls).

I’ve told this saga before, but once in Florida, I got the full details. First, the Red Cross handouts. Yes, it was nice of the Red Cross to come and deliver food to thousands of retirees stuck without power. However, many of the residents in this community are quite old, are not very mobile, and scaling a staircase is an exercise in futility. The elevators were not working, due to the power outtage, and these old folks were basically stuck on the second and third floors.

The Red Cross was parked at the clubhouse, which is situated at the front of the development. They did not make rounds to deliver food. My stepfather, who is mobile and drives, attempted to take extra portions so that he could bring them to neighbors who weren’t as fortunate. But noooo, that was not allowed. While some old folks, to be sure, might take extra portions and hoard it (you know, the Depression mentality), others simply wanted to help their friends and neighbors. You know, prevent starvation.

But that was verboten! One portion per person and no exceptions. If those old geezers were just too damn lazy to push their wheelchairs and walkers down the stairs, well they deserved to go hungry. Oh, the kindness of the Red Cross.

Some politician (no, not Jeb) was lurking around there, looking for photo ops and what not. When the situation was brought to his attention, he kind of made himself scarce. When he was asked when the power was going to come back on, he replied, “Soon.” When asked how soon, he conveniently pretended that he had a hearing disorder.

On the ninth day of the power outtage, a bunch of little girls came around with food. And ohmygod, they actually climbed the stairs and knocked on doors. Better late than never I suppose, but still. I imagine that some people didn’t open their doors because they were long dried out and dead, but that’s another story.

Does this sound like an American story to you? I admit, I am repeating this second-hand, but it seems to fantastic for my parents to have made up. They don’t have that much imagination.