Today is the first day of Spring, so I should be happy, but right now, as I look out onto 32nd street, it is snowing. But it’s not the snow that’s bothering me really, it’s the fact that I didn’t know about the snow before it happened.
That’s because the weather said nothing about snow when I went to bed last night. Nothing. But that’s what makes being a meteorologist the best job in the world: you can do whatever the fuck you want.
When I was growing up, I wish I would have had the damn sense to want to become a meteorologist. No. Instead I wanted to do something that involved being around pretty girls and Being Awesome, which of course is why I ended up at a job with no pretty girls and lots of time spent Being Lame.
If a Weather Man tells the people in TV Land that it is going to snow tomorrow, and it doesn’t, all he has to do is shrug his shoulders and say, “That Mother Nature sure is crazy!”
Weather, in essence, is completely unpredictable, so all a meteorologist has to do is say some Words, then call it a night. It’s one of the few jobs out there where you can basically say a bunch of complete bullshit, and people will listen to it and think, “This guy knows what he’s talking about.”
Okay, other than what Bill O’Reilly does.
I don’t know why meteorologists even bother with the act. They should just roll into the studio, wasted and still clutching a bottle of OE, then scream at everyone “IT SNOW MIGHT RAIN OR SOME SUN 40% PARTLY CLOUDY WINDS!”
That pretty much covers it all.