Hurricane Irene: The Bust.... I mean Storm of 2011
Friday 8/26, 11:57 am:
At this point, Hurricane Irene is a bust.
Reporting live from New Jersey, this intrepid investigator has seen little sign of the storm. Right now there are a few clouds in the sky, no wind, and no rain. People are proceeding their days normally, traveling to work, and not panicking in the streets. All batteries in Northern New Jersey have been bought up by customers, except for those strange 9 Volts that no one seems to need anymore. Customers at the local Shop Rite gave this reporter confused and annoyed looks when asked to respond to the question, "Hey, did you hear about the Hurricane?" and/or "Why is this place so crowded today? I just need my perishable goods."
The lights in this apartment have been flickering, but that's because I keep flipping the switch up and down.
Meanwhile, the snark level is surprisingly low. A quick check of Twitter turns up few jokes about the storm, while Facebook has been overtaken by pictures of babies lying on their backs and people wishing Happy Birthday to people they don't really know.
Continue to check the Writing Block for more updates on this developing story.
Friday, August 26, 10:25 pm:
Irene is still a bust. There's a stiff breeze, but no clouds. The most tragic part of the day wasn't the crowd a Shop Rite, but the fact that the Franklin Steakhouse was out of Harpoon IPA.
Chris Christie has taken on the Jersey Shore telling people to forget their gym trip, forget their tan and forget their laundry and just get the hell out.
The Giants/Jets game has been postpone until Monday when no one will still care.
I'm looking at houses tomorrow. Then watching Doctor Who. And eating a hurricornicopia of food. Should be fun.
Saturday, August 27th, 9:43 am
The skies are overcast. I'm watching the news. Judging by their warnings, here's what I've decided to do before and after the storm:
-Get a box out of my car.
-Eat a bagel sandwich.
-Drink some coffee.
-Grow a beard and really long out of control Braveheart hair.
-Hoard barrels of oil and water for trading after the hurricane.
-Develop my own language to be able to talk in front of the ravagers.
-Sharpen wooden branches.
-Watch Doctor Who.
-Panic. That's what the news wants. Panic.
-Eat mini-hot dogs tonight.
Keep watching this spot!
At this point, Hurricane Irene is a bust.
Reporting live from New Jersey, this intrepid investigator has seen little sign of the storm. Right now there are a few clouds in the sky, no wind, and no rain. People are proceeding their days normally, traveling to work, and not panicking in the streets. All batteries in Northern New Jersey have been bought up by customers, except for those strange 9 Volts that no one seems to need anymore. Customers at the local Shop Rite gave this reporter confused and annoyed looks when asked to respond to the question, "Hey, did you hear about the Hurricane?" and/or "Why is this place so crowded today? I just need my perishable goods."
The lights in this apartment have been flickering, but that's because I keep flipping the switch up and down.
Meanwhile, the snark level is surprisingly low. A quick check of Twitter turns up few jokes about the storm, while Facebook has been overtaken by pictures of babies lying on their backs and people wishing Happy Birthday to people they don't really know.
Continue to check the Writing Block for more updates on this developing story.
Friday, August 26, 10:25 pm:
Irene is still a bust. There's a stiff breeze, but no clouds. The most tragic part of the day wasn't the crowd a Shop Rite, but the fact that the Franklin Steakhouse was out of Harpoon IPA.
Chris Christie has taken on the Jersey Shore telling people to forget their gym trip, forget their tan and forget their laundry and just get the hell out.
The Giants/Jets game has been postpone until Monday when no one will still care.
I'm looking at houses tomorrow. Then watching Doctor Who. And eating a hurricornicopia of food. Should be fun.
Saturday, August 27th, 9:43 am
The skies are overcast. I'm watching the news. Judging by their warnings, here's what I've decided to do before and after the storm:
-Get a box out of my car.
-Eat a bagel sandwich.
-Drink some coffee.
-Grow a beard and really long out of control Braveheart hair.
-Hoard barrels of oil and water for trading after the hurricane.
-Develop my own language to be able to talk in front of the ravagers.
-Sharpen wooden branches.
-Watch Doctor Who.
-Panic. That's what the news wants. Panic.
-Eat mini-hot dogs tonight.
Keep watching this spot!
Labels: Batteries, Bust, Davey Being Davey, Hurricane, Hurricane Irene, Snark
posted by Dave White at 10:50 AM
7 Comments:
You must be my demented son!! Pretty funny stuff.
I love Dave White! Good thing I taught him to keyboard so he can get his hilarious thoughts down so quickly . . . wait, was it me or someone else. Anyways--hunker down!
Will be braving it out here in Bayonne. Have battened down the hatches as best we could, have a good supply of food and water, just praying all will be safe! Probably flooding, loss of power. Hmmm! Perhaps another grandchild in . . . that would be May?! Keep us smiling, Dave.
How can it be a bust if it hasn't arrived yet? Although you can kiss your career as a meteorologist and a reporter goodbye, you may be right, albeit not intentionally. It will likely be a tropical storm by the time it arrives, plenty of rain, a strong gale and power outages. Otherwise, the only city that seems to matter (New York) will be up and running by Tuesday. Dan Rather will naturally be upset because he was hoping to live to see a catastrophic hurricane hit the northeast. He still hasn't gotten over the Hurricane Gloria bust of 85, he was furious that more people didn't die. He was so upset that he made an ass out of himself by attacking Neil Frank! lmao
Ah, 2nd anonymous. I see my humor is too subtle for you.
You're almost an unofficial Floridian now.
Honestly, the calm and boredom before the storm is almost as bad as the first two days without power after. If the power stays off, things get way more annoying.
I'm bored, Dave, so I wrote you a story. Not as good as yours, but it kept my mind off the hurricane news for about half an hour.
All eyes had been glued to the tube for three days. The planning, watching, the waiting. The anticipation activated their adrenalin feeding a single focus—Irene. I take this as a sign, a good one. Entire transportation systems are shutting down as we speak, rail, roadways, Christ, even the bridges! Un-friggin-believable! Mass evacuation started the exodus, scattering populations, electrifying the entire eastern seaboard. Ho, ho, not to mention causing the deployment of city, state, and national resources toward that cause. I'll take that as sign.
The wait is on. I can’t believe my luck. Every form of media echoes “the calm before the storm” mantra. I laugh out loud about that one! I am redefining the meaning of organized crime, my every action as purposeful, exacting, and precise as a surgeon’s. Irene is expending their energy before it gets here; I’ll do that after I leave. My girl, Irene, and I will arrive at the same time like a synchronized dance routine, a perfectly timed movement, with deliberateness, and wreaking ultimate destruction. Here’s the difference: Irene’s arrival mimics the proverbial bat out of hell; mine is like a stealth fighter plane. As everyone returns to their dysfunctional “normalcy”, I’ll be far gone from the scene of the crime. They’ll remember Irene and her destruction for years to come; but they’ll never forget me.
Well, Dave, how'd you like it? Be kind!
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