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Wednesday, April 20, 2011

A Letter to Those That Do the Weather

Dear Weather People,

We need to talk. I'm not sure if you're suffering from a slow news day, the need for more camera time or the sick need to become a major alarmist, but..... enough already.

I guess there's value in your "early warning system" but there's also a dark side called, let's scare the bejeezus out of every man, woman, and dog with your red zones and your beep beep beeps. From the feel of your coverage last night it was a weather Holocaust. Everyone I encountered this morning at the doctor's office, coffee shop, and dog groomer was bleary eyed and spent.  Not bleary eyed because the storms were horrific, because you scared the shit out of everyone's kids and elderly parents and they had spent the night in bed with four kids, a cockapoo and their mom's oxygen tank in their queen size Posturepedic.

Enough is enough. There is such a thing as too much information. Please consider yourself a good filter. You can stare at all that beeping and flashing and swirling and when it's time for me to get to the basement and put my prayers into hyper gear, then beep out my Parenthood show and tell me to get my ass to the basement. Then I'll know you mean it.  Right now you've become a tiny boy with a big wolf that rarely seems to come.

I've spent most of my 45 years living in the midwest. I'm no stranger to storms and tornadoes. When I was a kid we kept an eye on the weather and when it started to sound like a freight train coming around the corner we'd grab Fido and Tabby and stumble down the cement steps into the cellar and sit among the 10 year old canned tomato juice until the train had passed. THAT was our warning system. You may have saved a few more lives from tornadoes with your fancy schmancy equipment but you're killing more of us slowly and fueling the Prozac market by scaring the crap out of us.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find Parenthood online because my tivo'd version is 15 minutes of tv show and 45 minutes of your red dots and beeping and I don't even have a limb down in my woods.

Except for you @PaulPoteet you're still my favorite. Tweet me if I need to head to my basement and sit beside the catbox until the storm passes. I promise to listen and respond appropriately.