This is John Robinson (who my wife has always affectionately referred to as "Skeleton Boy"). He was my local weatherman growing up for, well, as long as I can remember. Pretty sharp. Experienced. Trusted. And professional. But not very gangsta. I spotted him back in Lubbock one time driving a Volvo stationwagon. Not that Volvo's aren't nice cars. In fact, their probably ideal for a medium-market meterologist. It says "safe" and "sterile"--like the Tom Hanks of the Weatherman World. Some people like this, however, if there's anything to be gained by two insane storms pounding our coasts, I've been introduced (as many others have) to some incredible and dynamic weathermen. Firstly, there's the aforementioned Amazing Orlando who taught us all we wanted to know about "street cops" and "debris" and now (get ready for a shocking juxtaposition) our boy Joe Bastardi:
Check this muddah out. Man, what a freakin hunk (in the most heterosexual of senses, of course). That's not a weatherman, that's a WEATHERHULK. And as anyone who grew up with a last name containing the word "bastard" with only one additional letter situated at the end, knowing the ridicule this kid got growing up, can play for my team any day. C'mon, Joe, let's go pillage the village! Anyhow, Rita is about two hours from making full landfall. Lessened in power, but still throwing some serious winds into Beaumont. Houston might have been spared the worse of it, but b'lee dis, it's gonna flood deep down in Houston.
Just disappeared into the bedroom to watch a little 'cane footage when my brother queued me. He said Shep (who I call "Smitty") had his feet taken out from under him. I'm having to go to the bedroom because my lovely wife had to take a "break" from the Rita footage. We got Baby Ray and Jacko over (that'd be Jace, my brother-in-law) and we're watching I "heart" Huckabees. Seems to be a pretty good flick, but I'm already too far behind because I'm typing on THEROOTDOWN.
I'm watching Rita so I don't watch baseball. And now, I'm watching a movie so I don't watch Rita. It's like going from wanting a beer to drinking O'Doul's. And then moving from O'Doul's to ranch dressing. Where's my Shiner?