I'm On The Waitlist

No, That's The Picnic Button!
I’ve been waiting, lo these many decades, for the times for recrimination and panic. Whenever they seem to be nigh, as with the current fallout from ignominy in Mesopotamia and influenza in Mexico, I am told by bigshots that they are not quite here yet--again!
I’m hopeful they’ll finally arrive before I join the great majority. I would love to recriminate all over Dick Cheney, George Bush, Condi Rice and company, preferably in the new Yankee Stadium with full bore coverage by HBO, so I can curse.
I would also enjoy a good panic, so long as I didn’t get trampled by other panickers. I live on a fairly quiet street. I imagine I could simply run aimlessly up and down it for a bit, my arms aflail, while I intoned incoherent imprecations. I would hope then that an attractive neighbor would take me in her embrace and endeavor to calm me down.
A newsreader on public radio just told me that rather than simply panicking I should plan. I take that to mean that I should devise a panic scenario for use when the time comes. Maybe I could ride a unicycle around antically and aflail, annoying the neighborhood dogs. Meanwhile, Pres. Obama has added that "there is no cause for alarm." If there's no alarm, how are people going to know when to panic? I'd like to recriminate with him about that.