The Weather Channel
Enough already! Storms are a serious subject, and we appreciate your public service, but to be blunt, we don’t want you in our town! Whenever you show up, an “ill wind that blows nobody any good” can’t be far behind. You and these hurricanes (or as some folks around here say, “hurr-a-kins”) are giving us a tropical depression.
I’ll grant that your broadcasts are informative. I’ve learned a ton—or perhaps a torrent—of meteorological terms. Spaghetti models, Bermuda highs, wind shears, eyewalls, steering factors, feeder bands, wind fields, landfalls, and the Hurricane Wind Scale (Cat 1 to 5) to name a few. I’m starting to discern the difference between a thunderstorm, a tempest, and a tornado and now know these can be as God-awful as a good old-fashioned gale or a giant gully washer.
Yet may I make a suggestion? You surely have sway with the brass over there at The Weather Channel. Unless you get your squalls off doing it, I for one don’t think it is necessary to stand out in the worst of the storm and report that the wind is blowing like crazy. “You wouldn’t believe what this feels like blowing up my pants legs… Whoa… Back to you in the studio.” We get it. Yet you and your climatic cohorts do it over and over. It must be written somewhere in the weather broadcasters’ manual: In case of hurricane, be sure to have a guy in a poncho stand out in the driving wind, trying to stay vertical while doing a bad imitation of the electric slide and holding a live microphone in the downpour.
Further, do you think the severity of storms might in some way be related to the names given them? Dorian was dangerous, Matthew was mean, and Hugo was horrible. To help ease the anxiety of the impending storms, perhaps the wizards at the World Meteorological Organization might consider some more tranquil, softer names for the next hurricane season. May I suggest: Anemic, Bland, Creampuff, Dulcet, Effete, Fizzle, Genteel, Halcyon, Insipid, Jell-O, Kindly, Limp, Meek, Nada, Oasis, Placid, Quell, Refrain, Serene, Tiny, Unruffled, Vapid, Wimp, X-cellent, Yellowbelly, and Zilch.
But my immediate concerns are my Aunt Toogie and my lovely wife, Grace. After hours of watching you on television, Toogie takes on a pattern you will recognize. It begins as a mild disturbance. Then as we have progressed deeper into the hurricane alphabet, her intensity strengthens, and she starts to pace in a counterclockwise motion around the kitchen island. As she picks up more energy, the speed and breadth of her rotation increases to potentially catastrophic levels. All this causes Grace to call for alternating actions: lawn furniture inside, lawn furniture outside; shutters closed, shutters open; fill the tub, empty the tub; buy water and bread, buy more water and bread.
Jim, trust me on this. Neither you nor I want to get in their path. Since you started it, you need to calm it down!
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