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Nearly Relevant
Nonsense, Fiction, and Miscellaneous Things

Weathermen.  A cliche meaning mistaken. A dandy of Doppler radar, the greatest camp comedy performer ever.  All these are weathermen.  Their ineffectual forecasts providing people of all races, shapes, and sizes with a nutty comfort.  A nutty comfort that says, "We as weathermen, for all eternity, will be proof of the innocuousness of feebleness."

Tuesday of this week, one of our local TV weather stations
forecast rain for most of the next 4 days.  There would be, we were assured,  some periods of dry weather, but they would be few.  For certain, dry weather would hand over the reins to, . . . well, rain.   For the next few days, the rain would come in, without any mutations of what we know of as rain, would stay a short while, and then, at the end of it's stay, turn control back over to dry weather. A very efficient, hardly at all disturbing, and temporary weather change. One administered and executed, for effectualities sake, by the top weather brass.  

Today is day 3, the third day without any rain.  Okay, I don't want to be called a liar, we did have some rain.  Enough to wet the roads, but so little that not even a single, small puddle bothered to attend the event.

Had a volcano, overnight, sprouted up in the middle of the state, the weatherman would have been excused for not predicting it.  Had it rained cats and dogs, they would have been excused for not predicting it.  Had it decided to snow, sleet, or hail, they would have been excused for not predicting it.  But, unfortunately for them, the weather didn't do any of that.  Instead it decided to be mostly dry for the next 4 days with a single, short period of rain.  An event exactly 180 degrees opposite of what was predicted.  I hate to say it but, there is no excuse for this.

I was entirely comfortable with the fact that weatherman were providing a service to the the world, by showing people that nuttiness is harmless.  By showing people that dunce caps are nothing to be ashamed of and even fashionable. By showing people that the evening news producers do have a sense of humor.

But this latest goof is outrageous.  No longer will I be able to watch weathermen and smile at their innocent attempt to get the weather right. 
No longer can I avoid prayers when he predicts snow turning to rain and then back to snow.  No longer can I say, "I'm not scared.", when he predicts 'warm weather and abundant sunshine.'  To my shattered mind, such 'perfect weekends' and 'beautiful day's can result in nothing less than the apocalypse itself.  Probably, followed by 3 or 4 eons of armageddon.

Thanks, weathermen.  I'd rather trust a B.Y.O.P, Bring Your Own Pot, invitation to dinner by a tribe of cannibals.



Generic Fight Song

I've been commissioned to develop a generic fight song which can be used by the high school cheerleaders of any high school.  Here it is;

Hey, hey, hey whatdaya  say!
Whatdaya say,  whatdaya say, whatdaya say!!!!!
Hey, hey whatdaya say, hey, hey. 
Say hey!!!!!!!!!!!!!! . . . . . . . . Hey, hey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Whatdaya say, whatdaya say, hey,hey!!!!!!!!
Say, hey!!!!!!!!  Whatdaya . . . 

 C R U N C H!

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