Beware The Acronym......

Tempest Chronicles Day 50

The entire weather community (those who lie to our face, not those who participate in weather) is completely up in arms over this “Invest” that they’re now saying is “Depression Two” and later today should he donned with the timely and modern name of Tropical Storm Bertha.

Yesterday at 3:19 PM I received a text from NOLAREADY telling me where to get sandbags. And all this is happening BEFORE the great OZ has even issued us any spaghetti models.

Spaghetti models are the colorful lines that show a projected path of a storm, I assume they are called that because, like trying to track where your noodle is in the bowl, the projected path of a hurricane is about as easy to follow. Clearly no one really knows what it’s doing until it’s about 48 hours from doing it. Sort of like if your drunk uncle called you and said he was headed your way, but you hadn’t seen him well past the time he pulled out of the driveway and GPS is showing him sitting outside the liquor store around the corner from his house.

I thought weather panic was just a New Orleans thing that went on after the debacle that was Katrina, but the other night somehow a Houston, Texas weather station appeared on the TV. The clearly STRAIGHT meteorologist was a man with a tiny little gun metal gray pony tail so I’m not even sure if he was real or some sort of Tik Tok performer.

He said something to the effect: “Everyone in the weather room was betting that this system would not be able to get itself together enough to be of any concern, but somehow it managed to.”

Ok first of all, no NOLA weathergay would even come close to the phrase: “Everyone in the weather room.” The sanctity of predicting the end of the viewing audience’s life is something that is decided singularly. There is no panel, I assume that it’s all very cut throat in the meteorological circles. I imagine if one weathergay runs into another weathergay at a gallery opening or a drag show, they do the adult thing and throw their drink in the other’s face.

It’s like if Bette Davis and Joan Crawford were seen hugging at rehab, or imagine seeing Taylor Swift standing in line. The concept of a weather room is just as disorienting.

I vaguely remember at the start of the season, it was announced that they were changing the way that information was to be disseminated. It was somehow thought be more helpful because we’re too dumb to come in out of the rain. However, after searching for the comfort of my spaghetti model, the only thing I can find is something called a “forecast cone” which is clearly just their way of saying: “Maybe” .

This cone, is shaped like a big headed tadpole. Very pointy and small at the current location of the depression, getting progressively bigger until the farthest most end which is supposed to be happening at 1AM on Saturday morning, 7 days away, takes up the entire state of Texas. What good is that?

So the entire Lone Star State should be on alert because we’re gonna have all the sandbags and they’re are just gonna be left with some pudgy heteroweather forecast saying that the meteorological cabal got everything completely wrong????

When it comes to weather, just like when it comes to life, we want ACCURACY. Don’t come at us with a big ass I DUNNO. We are a species that LOVES to cast blame away from ourselves and onto anyone else. If you tell me that the Tropical System is going to pass over the French Quarter at 8:30 PM, I know exactly how many shots of Fireball I can have before I need to call the Uber. This bullshit “cone” is just one more way of trying to blame the 99% for everyone’s problems.

I am hereby declaring my protestation by starting my own society of concerned weather recipients. The time for sitting idly by has long passed it’s time to take to the streets. We shall be known as the Bring Down Stupid Meteorology society, or BDSM for short.

Wait……Maybe this needs more fleshing out…..I’ll get back to you…

Vitals:88 degrees with a 7MPH hot air blast and a 63% humidity makes it feel like the sound you just heard coming from under the bed was actually your kneecap as you turn over in your sleep.

49 days down……..

134 days to go…….