DON’T leave your house! If you do you will be swept away by a “bomb cyclone,” swallowed up by a polar vortex and spit out onto 125th Street, where you will be lost in white-out conditions before succumbing to black ice.
It all started two weeks ago, when we experienced a weather event so severe and so debilitating that I am just now emotionally able to write about it. Of course, I am referring to the bombogenesis cyclone. A bartender once made one of these for me when I was in Vegas, and it wasn’t any less dangerous there.
STAY HOME! No harm can befall you there. The second worst thing that can happen is that Judge Judy will say something REALLY loud and scare the cat. “YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” The absolute worst thing is that Judge Judy will be pre-empted and local news will be on instead, telling you to stay home and scare your own cat.
There will be a “Who’s Who” of reporters out in the field. Wait a second. Who actually IS who, because you can’t see their faces, they have so many scarves and hats on. They’re here to tell me that it’s snowing out, something I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years. They interview a freezing-looking guy shoveling his driveway: “It’s freezing!” he says. Don’t shovel too hard, the reporter warns, and don’t start experiencing chest pains just so your wife will do most of the work, I might add.
Now the reporters have compiled some footage of people pushing their cars out of snow and into different snow. People are pushing their cars all over town, some haven’t even bothered to start them up. Hey, look, there’s the “Doppler 4000” Weather Van on the job, trying to ascertain whether the weather is any better over at the deli. I shuttled off to work in my wife’s SUV, since it has four-wheel drive. I used to take my own car come hell or high water until it tried to do a triple axel on Route 100 one icy morning. I stuck the landing and didn’t hit anything, but there were deductions for the steady stream of disgusting words that came out of my mouth without me even knowing about it.
Weathercasters were falling all over themselves trying to keep their emotions in check. One was gleefully stalking around the weather map gesticulating and shouting as if he was trying to fight off a swarm of bees. He had taken over the place. He looked as though he might wet his pants if he could find a way to work it into the forecast. The network news had pulled out all the stops for their bombogenesis. The morning meteorologist had the special effects boys work up a C.G.I. blizzard to blow snow all around the studio. Since when does the weather guy have a special effects department?
Nothing captures the public’s imagination like a 100-year storm. My imagination is still being held hostage by the 100-year storm we had last year and the one the year before. By my calculations, we should have smooth sailing until the year 2317.
It’s the weather people trying to scare us. Right before asking for a raise, television meteorologists rifle through the dictionary looking for scary adjectives to stick before a frightening noun. They might have chosen the phrase “Trump presidency apocalypse,” if it hadn’t already been taken.
So stock up on canned goods and batteries but don’t actually use anything, because your garbage won’t be collected for two weeks. Nothing useful happens during a bombogenesis cyclone. I can’t wait to get back to a world where white-out is something you used to use to cover up your typing errors and black ice is just a great name for a rapper.
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