Gustav reminds me of a bad joke.

Girl Scout Camp Windigo had some juvenile entertainment and this joke smells as bad as a damp swimsuit after a dip in the lake: An old woman is sitting home in the evening when the phone rings. "Bloody fingers! I'm six blocks away." The line goes dead. She hangs up and goes back to her knitting or watching wrestling or masturbating or whatever she was doing. The phone rings again. "Bloody fingers! I'm five blocks away." And so on freaking her progressively out until the doorbell rings. Amazingly, the old broad goes to the door without her knitting needles or a fireplace poker or baseball bat and opens it, spying her grandlarva on the porch. "Grandma! Do you have a Band-aid?" I have tried to forget this stupid joke for decades, but it clings like a velcro leech to my cerbral cortex.

( more rubbish about evacuation )