Winter’s here and it snows, so get over it!
Have you noticed the weird weather pattern that develops this time each year?
The nights grow longer. The temperature plummets. Moisture droplets freeze into fluffy crystals, which then cascade over the Inland Empire and …
Turn our local TV news crews into a gibbering pack of parka-clad weather monkeys.
It happened again Tuesday night.
Snow-addled broadcast journalists scampered out into the icy dark as if Elvis had been spotted sledding nude in Manito Park. Plus, the stations kept airing those warning crawlers across the bottom of our TV sets.
“White death is descending from the heavens. Run for your bloody lives. Run for your…”
I’d like to take a moment and ask my media colleagues a gentle question:
WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU IDIOTS?
Mount St. Helens didn’t erupt again. We aren’t in the midst of another Ice Storm ‘96.
It’s winter, man. Plain ol’ winter.
Snow falls. Streets get icy. Fenders get dinged …
Stop trying to scare our elderly out of their Depends.
Personally, if I have to watch some TV babe interview another disheveled, monosyllabic snowplow driver I’m going to get up off my couch, march into my kitchen and stick my head into the microwave.
Today’s TV weathercasts are video games with scary “War of the Worlds” images. Storm clouds look like giant green amoebas that slither across the landscape, gobbling hapless farming communities like Spangle and Usk.
Every station dubs its weather coverage with some nonsensical name like “Storm- Team-Accu-Scam” or “True-Tracker- Panic-Cast.”
My saying all this won’t stop our broad- cast blizzard blowhards from whipping themselves into a semi-orgasmic lather with each and every snowfall. But I hope the following dramatization of a typical TV weathercast adds a bit of sunshine to your day.
ANCHORMAN ROCK CHINCLEFT: “We now interrupt the best part of your favorite show to go live with reporter Chip Chipley who is on the scene at one of Spokane’s most dangerous ice-encrusted intersections. Chip, where are you reporting from?”
CHIP CHIPLEY: “Uh, Rock, I haven’t been able to make it out of the station parking lot because some fool forgot to put snow tires on the satellite truck.”
CHINCLEFT: “Oh.”
CHIPLEY: “But it doesn’t really matter, Rock.”
CHINCLEFT: “And why is that, Chip?”
CHIPLEY: “Because everybody watching our sensationalized weather reportage is safe at home. The drivers who might actually benefit from this information are not watching because, well, they are out there sliding around in their cars.”
CHINCLEFT: “Gee, Chip, I’ve never thought of it that way. Let’s go now to Washington State Police Sgt. Otis T. Mudflap for a live report on road conditions. What’s it like out there, Otis?”
OTIS T. MUDFLAP: “It’s slick, Rock. Very slick.”
CHINCLEFT: “How slick is it?”
MUDFLAP: “In my professional estimation it’s quite slick.”
CHINCLEFT: “And have you ascertained any atmospheric irregularities that might account for this increase in highway slickness?”
MUDFLAP: “Yes, Rock. At the moment we’re blaming the white stuff.”
CHINCLEFT: “Ah, yes, the dreaded white stuff. And has this condition accounted for any driver-related mishaps?”
MUDFLAP: “That would be an affirmative, Rock. So far this evening we’ve taken reports on over 50 vehicular slideoffs.”
CHINCLEFT: “Slideoffs? My, god. That’s alarming. Is slideoff even a word?”
MUDFLAP: “I have absolutely no idea, Rock.”
CHINCLEFT: “Until we get this sorted out we’re going to pause now so that all of you local TV news viewers can end your misery by committing mass microwave suicide.”