Breaking News: Weather affects cars
I remain committed to producing the best quality graphs based on made-up data to support my inane points regarding the issues I really care to rant about.
What does this mean to you? Not much. Hey, just like the local evening news! I think I’m onto something here.
Our top story tonight. Ominous fluffy clouds, pregnant with expectation (and moisture), have birthed innumerable litters of chubby drops that the WeatherTrac9000 computer calls “rain.” These drops are currently on a collision course with the place most of us live. The WeathTrac9000 calls that place the “ground.” We are currently projecting that these drops of mostly water will make the ground “wet.”
We start our exclusive News42 team coverage with Alex on remote location standing by a street. Alex?
…three seconds of awkward silence from Alex as he stares into the camera with a fake grin plastered on his face not realizing yet that he’s already on…
That’s right, Cassandra. Weather is coming to a street near you and it is pissed off. I’ll step aside to see if we can get a shot of this. You can clearly see drops of water hitting this street. And that is creating a dangerous situation that leaves some drivers out in the cold.
Earlier today this was the scene, with street surfaces wet. In one case, we found a car pulled over on the side of the road with its blinkers on. That driver was forced to sit and wait and hope that conditions would improve.
Even worse conditions may already be on the way. For that we go to Marko in the WeatherTrac9000 Weather Center. Marko?
That’s right, Alex. We are currently projecting alternating periods of light and dark at approx. 12 hour intervals until further notice. This means some rain may be less visible at certain times. Viewers are advised to remain on this channel for the latest updates as they become available.
For the intelligence-impaired here’s tonight’s Weather-Pick-Toe-Graph. This patented WeatherTrac9000 system helps those suffering from small brain syndrome to help prepare for the weather. Tonight’s picture: The Gorton’s Fishman in bright yellow slickers including full-frontal hoodie. We’re showing him holding a ship’s steering wheel but you don’t actually have to have one of your own.
For the rest of you I will now show lots of slides and animations and maps and use a lot meteorological words for eight full minutes of our 16-minute broadcast (not counting commercials).
Highway To Wazzit?
Highway To Heaven starred Michael Landon as an angel on probation, sent to Earth and given assignments by The Boss to help troubled souls.
Shouts From The Abyss stars yours truly as a self-proclaimed guru of negativity, given (purloined) a blog which serves as a metaphorical highway where daily poop bullshit is dispensed to The Reader.
The parallels are uncanny.
Hell, I’m just like Johnny Appleseed only slightly different. And, like Mr. Appleseed, I’ve got places to go and things to do. For that I will, occasionally, use a highway.
Highway to Hell was a rockin’ little ditty by AC/DC.
One thing is for sure: That’s a lot of highways! And the other day I was on one of them.
Verily I say unto you, the highways shall be covered with billboards and they shall be legion but do not be tempted by the advertising messages contained therein lest thou’st risk thy immortal soul for they are abomination.
—The Book of Guru, Transportation Chapter
It’s not the destination, it’s the journey. A serendipitous journey dappled with billboards containing messages like “Eat at Joe’s” and “Billboard Space Available.” Hell, who wouldn’t appreciate a journey like that? God forbid that even during the act of driving we might temporarily forget that the world is 24/7 after our wallets.
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The father/brother was talking to his son/brother, passing down information that had been handed down from generation to generation. “My father/brother told me this story when I was about your age. Now I’m passing it on to you. Someday you’ll share this story with your son/brother.”
“It was many harvest cycles ago…
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Like Water for Assholes
As the reader, you have a task this time out. See if you can identify the above referenced “asshole” in this post. I bet you can if you try.
I’ve noticed that some of the women I’ve known in my life had certain … similarities.
I can think of a few examples.
One is the penchant of using 42 squares of toilet paper per wipe. I’m like, “Come on. If a little bit gets on you it won’t kill you. It washes off.” But they always insist it will. It is deadly and must be avoided at all costs.
Another is the desire to turn on the ceiling fan. They like that thing on. A lot. Like 24/7 a lot. Like in, “If the fan ever stops the space-time continuum will be destroyed.” Me? Meh. I can take it or leave it.
They also like doors and windows open. Even when this means our screens will be horribly mauled and disfigured by the feline members of our households. To a cat, you see, an unprotected and exposed screen is the holy grail of things to scratch. It taunts them, saying, no matter what: “You want to be on the other side of me.” If cats ever held an Olympics, screen climbing would no doubt be a headline event.
There is another commonality, though. One that dwarfs the previous examples. One that you’d never possibly imagine.
It’s water. Or, to be more precise, how we react to it.
I’ll explain how it works.
The other night I came home from work and our kitchen had been torn apart. It turned out there was a leak under the sink. My wife had pulled everything out from under the sink and had towels everywhere stopping up the flow of water. She’s clever that way. Those things would have never occurred to me.
“The sink leaks when you turn on the water,” she said.
I replied with the very first thought that crossed my brain. “Don’t turn it on, then.” Actually, it is nothing short of amazing that I’m alive and my arms still work enough to write this post. I’m surprised she let me live.
Naturally I did what any man would do. (Even though I’m not one.) I grabbed a flashlight and crawled under that sink on my back. “Yep. It’s leaking alright.” It’s really not very nice to kick someone in that position.
I figured out which line-thingy was the source and my wife figured out how to fix it. Another win-win in the Taker household. I was struck, however, by the urgency of the problem. It was water. It had to be dealt with now. Me? I probably would have napped first.
The commonality? For that, I’ll tell a little story…
It must have been about 15 years ago. It was another place (the big city) and another woman. (This was years before I met my wife.) In fact, I’m pretty sure it was the day before Thanksgiving. I was chillin’ on the sofa watching a police chase.
It was one of those cases where some lunatic was racing around in a car while being chased by multiple police cars and we were watching the whole thing on TV with coverage by helicopter and running commentary.
I had already invested a couple hours of my life watching this riveting form of entertainment. Even though the car was showing no signs of slowing down, the situation was building to a climax. You could feel it. Ever minute he zipped around he was burning up his gas. The size of his gas tank was his enemy.
Suddenly there was a shriek in my house. It came from the garage. I leaped to my feet and sprinted over. I found my main squeeze looking out in the garage, where a sizable puddle of water had formed. “Looks like we’ve got some kind of leak,” I said wisely.
And then it happened. The moment of utter doom. I went back to the sofa and continued watching the police chase.
She was incredulous. She foamed at the mouth a little. She stood in front of me and glared. “This needs to be dealt with. NOW!” Damn, she sounded ominous.
“This thing,” I said, indicating the police chase on TV. “It’s gotta be over any minute now.” I figured everything was already wet. A few more minutes of wetness wouldn’t bring about the end of the world, I reasoned.
Suffice it to say it was game over for me. I found myself in the garage working in the water. Eventually I decided to turn off the water using the knob-thingy that controlled the water to our house.
While farting around and pretending to know what a man would do in a situation like that, I missed the satisfying conclusion to the police chase. I only found out later that the car had run out of gas and had stopped on the highway. A man then got out, pointed something at the cops and was blown to bits. And I missed it.
Oh. The water thing? That turned out to be a tiny little dent in a pipe that had been installed under the concrete slab like 20 years earlier. It had finally created a hole in the pipe under a bedroom and flooded the garage from below. Clever.
So yeah. I guess my point here is that women I have known always seem to have an issue with water being dealt with now. They don’t seem to be such big fans of later.