I ran into an old friend of mine a few moments ago, and we got to talking. In the midst of catching up, she turned to me and said, "David — I think of you as a good friend, as well as a fellow looter. But who are we, really?"

I had to pause.

"Who are we?"

Who are we.

Who are we — really?

Janice, we are the people who put the chairs and logs through our nation's shop windows, and take home boomboxes, and attractive lamps, and 144-count boxes of Swanson pot pies.

We are the people who sometimes burn down buildings or parked furniture trucks, but only after we've rescued some of the important things they once contained.

And we are the people who emerge in the midst of any great civil disturbance, and run together as a team, pulling wealth from the crumbling urban superstructure we inhabit, like termites extracting nutrition from a rotting palm tree.

So, whether we're capitalizing on a natural disaster, battling for the cause of racial equality, or celebrating the victory of our favorite sports team, it is we — the looters — who are the glue that hold our nation's great cities together.

But today, as we gather together to remember the free home entertainment systems of days past, let us also remember a less fortunate and more dedicated group of looters that make our jobs seem like a well-catered picnic.

Many of you have heard of the floods that are tearing apart the Siberian city of Yakutsk. Ice floes have jammed up in the Lena River, causing water to sweep across the habitated plains of the Russian Far East. Russian airplanes have begun bombing the ice, trying to stop the waters from sweeping away the last crummy bits of civilization that cling to life in this miserable Siberian hellhole.

But even in the worst of it — even in Siberia, during the flood of the century — there are looters at work.

What do they hope to gain?

A piece of pumice-like flatbread? An old wooden doll? An 80-pound, Soviet-era toaster that shoots out deadly sparks whenever it's used?

But still, even in the midst of flood and famine, the looters of Yakutsk are out there, trying their best.

So, I ask all of you: the next time you're hauling home a Pioneer DVD player and a 64-pack of Chicken McNuggets from a devastated urban McDonald's, remember your compatriots working in countries like the Congo, or Burma, or Swaziland or Pakistan. They're working just as hard — or harder — than you, but they're getting a lot less stuff.

Remember the looters of Yakutsk, my friends, and remember how lucky all of us are here, today. By the grace of God, we have it good.

Now. There's a Best Buy on Maple Avenue next to a greenhouse filled with heavy clay pots and wooden stakes we could grab and use as tools. Everybody — to the streets!