In Lowell, a flood counts as a bath

"Such pomposity". After that brief phrase of satiety, I hung up the phone. Just 48 hours before your superiors hosted a celebration recognizing prep school chum Maxwell Cornelssen's acceptance to the yacht club you wish you belonged, our plans appeared to be scuttled.

Due to the rain that fell on the north shore of Massachusetts, Stately Pinhead Manor's head landscaper, a UMass-Lowell graduate, called to inform us he had to go home to Lowell. Apparently, his family was struggling with the flooding that was threatening his clan's housing project and could no longer continue to work the grounds in preparation for our soiree.

Despite the rising waters, some UMass-Lowell students continued to call WAMG radio looking for free Gloria Estefan tickets.

With our best landscaper gone for the unforseeable future, your surfeited superiors merely sat back, lit a Dunhill Cabinetta, and flipped on the Plasma to find out about this "flood". Admittedly, the video that we saw left us quite agog. The rain had doused the Lowell that the people you wish you were remembered.

With roads closed, Lowell residents had to find a way to secure only the bare necessities.

Washed away were the car fires and card board box "condos". Inhabitants who normally defecated behind any available dumpster now relieved themselves wherever they happened to wade. If not for their flourescent attire, it would be difficult to differentiate the locals from the buoyant detritus, Peter Vetri, and anything else that was washed out of Lowell this week.

Despite the millions of gallons of fecal-tinted water flowing down Shattuck Street like the Lowell Folk Festival Parade, it didn't deter pedestrians from strolling the town even with river barriers collapsing faster than Joe Exter. The good news, according to the newscaster, was that since most Lowell residents are already homeless, there would be few displaced homeowners due to the flood.

Lowell residents showed that despite the horrific flooding, prostitution and jocularity still ruled the day.

Before your superiors shut off the television and prepared to find a new head landscaper, the newscaster once again broke some news. Apparently, with the water level approaching three feet, Lowell's mayor implored that all small children and UMass-Lowell head hockey coaches to flee to higher ground until the water subsides.

Collar Up.