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\"On September 19, 2018, Trump paid a visit to New Bern, North Carolina, one of the towns ravaged by Hurricane Florence. It was there he showed deep concern for a boat that washed ashore. 'At least you got a nice boat out of the deal,' said President Trump to hurricane victims. 'Have a good time,!' he told them. The staff of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert felt Trump's words were an excellent teaching tool for readers of all ages who enjoy learning about empathy\"-- Adapted from Amazon.com.

Purpose Multiple exposures to disaster are associated with high levels of stress and with long‐term consequences for survivors. However, little is known about coping and resilience in multiple disaster contexts. In this study, we focused on spiritual and secular coping resources and the roles they may play in postdisaster resilience. Methods Participants were noncoastal and coastal residents exposed to the 2005 Hurricanes Katrina and Rita and the 2010 Deepwater Horizon oil spill. Psychosocial predictors of central interest were (a) spiritual support and (b) use of coping through humor, and both were hypothesized to be associated with resilience. Covariates included group, gender, education, income, social engagement, charitable work done for others, and lifetime trauma. Findings Logistic regression analyses confirmed that spiritual support (odds ratio [OR] = 1.11, p ≤ .01) and use of coping through humor (OR = 1.17, p ≤ .01) were independently and positively associated with resilience. Disruption in charitable work done for others in a typical year before the hurricanes (OR = 0.49, p ≤ .05) and income of less than $2,000 per month were negatively associated with resilience (OR = 0.47, p ≤ .05). Conclusions These data show that spirituality, humor, disruptions in charitable work, and low income were all independently associated with resilience in the years after consecutive disasters. Clinical Relevance Experiencing one or more disasters can create chronic psychosocial stress in an individual, which is associated with long‐term health effects such as inflammation and weakened immune function. Recognizing which coping resources bolster resilience rather than harm is important for improving quality of life in disaster victims.

Amid the Russian invasion of Ukraine, TikTok has emerged as a pivotal platform, where creators utilize its compressed video formats to mediate the harsh realities of war zones. In this article, we examine 97 videos produced by 12 Ukrainian and Russian TikTok creators in response to the 2022 war in Ukraine. We focus on the playful embodiment of trauma using digital ethnography, analyzing creators’ practices and their interconnected memetic communication on TikTok. We identified the use of play through three dynamic practices where platforms, bodies, and trauma converge: (1) the utilization of POV (point-of-view) aesthetic in shareable templates to convey the realities of war from engaging first-person perspectives; (2) the incorporation of dance as a means of embodied creative expression and amplification of trauma; and (3) the harnessing of platform features to facilitate whimsical dialogues with followers about life under war. We argue that playfulness is entrenched in and enacted through platform vernacular modes, driving creators to forge communal ties during adversities and shape the ongoing representation of trauma and its accelerated visibility in digital spaces. We present the concept of playful trauma as a framework for understanding the structural dissonance that arises when creators utilize their bodies alongside platform-specific humorous, ironic, or subversive dialects to perform and amplify the gravity of trauma. This tension provides a unique space for creators to convert their shared experiences of grief and resilience into participatory coping mechanisms. In doing so, they subject and harness their playful platformed body as both the medium and the message, documenting injustices, bearing witness, and galvanizing crowds into action during times of war.

Within certain conservative narratives imposed upon the events of 2005, New Orleans has been demonized as a site promoting gay licentiousness and therefore meriting divine retribution. In queer narratives, New Orleans has been valorized as promoting that same licentiousness but lamented for having those hedonistic excesses tempered by the widespread destruction of the city. Especially in the latter scenario, there is a significant degree of nostalgia, an element that also marks other queer understandings of the city that focus not so much on the hedonism as on the day-to-day warp and woof of pre-hurricane gay communities. The main focus of this essay is on how, as gay communities have been reconfigured in the aftermath of the hurricane by temporary and permanent evacuations, job relocations, and other alterations, gay responses have continued to evince a range of emotions, including anger, bitterness, resignation, and optimism. This essay focusses on gay literary production responding directly to the hurricane to examine essays and poems published as Love, Bourbon Street: Reflections of New Orleans (2006) and Blanche Survives Katrina in FEMA Trailer Named Desire, Mark Sam Rosenthal's off-Broadway show structured around a parody of Tennessee Williams's A Streetcar Named Desire that, as a result of this structure, faced legal action instigated by the University of the South, owner of the intellectual rights to Williams's literary production. The collection and the play are sustained queer responses to Katrina's flooding of the city that showcase both the energizing and problematic aspects of these responses.

When Hurricane Katrina ravaged New Orleans on August 29, 2005, Scott Stevens, a thirty-nine -year-old Idaho weatherman and nine-year veteran at KPVI-TV News Channel 6, blamed the Japanese Mafia for the hurricane. Since Katrina, Stevens has been in newspapers across the country where he has been quoted as saying the Yakuza Mafia used a Russian-made Cold War device - an \"electromagnetic generator\" - to cause Katrina, in a bid to avenge the atomic bomb attack on Hiroshima (\"Weatherman\"). [...]as the works of Jack Womack demonstrate, without this outrageous and preposterous imagination, science fiction and fantasy could not have thrived. [...]although hard scientists discount as ludicrous Scott Stevens's claims about Hurricane Katrina, his paranoid conspiracy theory still seems to make sense to some US citizens wrapped in Cold War pride and prejudice, even if they don't have a taste for the fantastic. [...]one of the founding fathers of Japanese sf Mr. Tetsu Yano, who is very well known for being the translator of R. A. Heinlein and the author of a highly admired story \"The Legend of the Paper Spaceship,\" attacked the story as a type of white supremacy (2). According to him, in the summer ofthat year, Judith Merril had earlier come to Japan and told the other guests about what she had already seen in Hiroshima, especially the Atomic Bomb Memorial Dome, whose \"twisted ironwork the Japanese preserved as a memorial when every other part of that building had been blown away by that first-ever-deployed-in-anger nuclear bomb\" (xi). [...]what attracted me most is not only the idea but also the narrative, in which the heroine Nora Olney, who succeeded in erasing her twin sister Blanche, becomes unable to distinguish between her waking world and Blanche's dream one. [...]just as the title of the novel refers to both the double life of the Siamese twins and the amount of time that a radioactive substance takes to lose half its radioactivity, so the name of the heroine's sister metafictionally connotes the \"carte blanche\" Nora abuses and the \"blank pages\" she fills up by scribbling away at her autobiography.

Chris laughs his hearty laugh as recent college-grad Ashley deftly uses somewhat humorous descriptions to explore the hardships of an extended family dealing with death and AIDS. Once in the passenger seat of the small Corolla I had to manage the task of hoisting my big-ass body across the console with the shift sticking up and maneuver into the driver's bucket-seat. In the unlighted classroom our circle of Students at the Center staff and students are reading off of donated laptops; the screens highlight our faces but not the rest of our bodies.