Word: fetid
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Even as the last of some 250 billion gallons of fetid floodwater were finally being pumped out of New Orleans, the rising tide of debate over the city's upright but erratic mayor showed no signs of abating. "We shouldn't have to choose between corruption and incompetence on something this important," says veteran political consultant C.B. Forgotston, once a Nagin backer. "If Nagin remains in charge, the city simply will never get rebuilt." The debate over his performance is hardly academic. In February, Nagin faces a re-election contest that will help determine the trajectory of New Orleans' revival...
...Ninth Ward, east of the French Quarter across the Industrial Canal. The Ninth was the community worst ravaged by the floods as high as rooftops that tore through the city's levees on August 29. It took six weeks for the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to pump the fetid water out of the area, and Ninth Ward residents were finally allowed back into their neighborhoods Wednesday morning for temporary "look-and-leave" visits. But even as they resigned themselves to the fact that their homes, as they are now, are lost to them, most, like Hagan, dug in their...
...sinuous ribbon of land between the Mississippi River and the Gulf of Mexico, not only were all the towns lost to Katrina's fury, but nature itself seems mortally wounded as well. The 30-mile strip of houses, farms and schools has been transformed into a sump filled with fetid water. Groves of orange trees lie half submerged near Triumph. In Empire, almost 1 million gallons of oil have broken out of a giant Chevron storage tank, coating the levees and seeping into the marshland. A herd of cows staggers ankle deep through greasy waters in Venice. A few miles...
...teeming mess of violent desperation it became in the storm's wake. Much of it remains under water, stewing in a putrid mix of chemicals and corpses. But in parts of the city, the floodwaters receded sufficiently last week to reveal something strange and new: part frontier outpost, part fetid deathscape, where the drowned and the saved coexisted for days because neither had any other place...
...splinters, cars abandoned on the roads, crowds of huddled refugees escaping a fallen city. It also smells like a war zone. Flying over the neighborhoods where water reaches the eaves of most houses, my nostrils burn with the fumes of diesel fuel, which swirls in rainbow iridescence in the fetid eddies below. It's the dry areas of the city that smell the worst, where the water poured in fast and receded. There, the smell is unmistakably of death - the rotting contents of abandoned refrigerators, and the corpses of the drowned...