Panda Watch!
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So it's raining. Midwesterners like to scoff at the People's Republic of God's Country for being "soft," if only because the temperature here doesn't drop below 40, under, say, fifty-thousand feet.
The superior beings we are, we Citizens of the Republic just chuckle. We recognize jealousy when we see it. We realize that by calling us soft, those sad parka-packers intentionally ignore our devastating lamp-to-the-skull-in-the-middle-of-the-night earthquakes. Our race-fueled riots. Our let's-take-a-flamethrower-to-Malibu fires and our holy-shit-that-would-be-the-entire-Philippines-coming-down-the-mountain floods.
Okay, so maybe they've got us on the floods.
In fact, I'll bet that douchebag Paul Moyer or one of his Channel 4 cronies is out there covering "StormWatch! 06" as I type, like it's fucking Katrina. And I didn't think it could get any worse.
Until tonight.
You should see the panic that's engulfed God's Country East over the drizzle-mist outside. Now, you might find this hard to believe but apparently it doesn't rain very much in the desert. So when it does, well, it's a deal. Tonight I had to call my respective directors of public works and ask them - I shit you not - what a fucking inch of rain might do in terms of floodings/street closures.
It was a new low. I mean, if those Midwesterners put the brats and deep-dish down for a sec and paid attention, we'd never be able to live this incident down.
Apparently the drains here are all filled with sand. Hey, it could be worse - some cities flood when the drains clog with sewage.
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In other news I got my first A-1 the other day. Go figure, of all the stories I've written so far, it was the last I ever expected to make the front page. While running around on a seemingly far more important story, I stuck my head in on this little meeting, expecting to write a brief, tops. Nope! Which brings up an interesting point: $60K in student loans and apparently I have zero news judgement. Good times.
The superior beings we are, we Citizens of the Republic just chuckle. We recognize jealousy when we see it. We realize that by calling us soft, those sad parka-packers intentionally ignore our devastating lamp-to-the-skull-in-the-middle-of-the-night earthquakes. Our race-fueled riots. Our let's-take-a-flamethrower-to-Malibu fires and our holy-shit-that-would-be-the-entire-Philippines-coming-down-the-mountain floods.
Okay, so maybe they've got us on the floods.
In fact, I'll bet that douchebag Paul Moyer or one of his Channel 4 cronies is out there covering "StormWatch! 06" as I type, like it's fucking Katrina. And I didn't think it could get any worse.
Until tonight.
You should see the panic that's engulfed God's Country East over the drizzle-mist outside. Now, you might find this hard to believe but apparently it doesn't rain very much in the desert. So when it does, well, it's a deal. Tonight I had to call my respective directors of public works and ask them - I shit you not - what a fucking inch of rain might do in terms of floodings/street closures.
It was a new low. I mean, if those Midwesterners put the brats and deep-dish down for a sec and paid attention, we'd never be able to live this incident down.
Apparently the drains here are all filled with sand. Hey, it could be worse - some cities flood when the drains clog with sewage.
***************************************************************************************
In other news I got my first A-1 the other day. Go figure, of all the stories I've written so far, it was the last I ever expected to make the front page. While running around on a seemingly far more important story, I stuck my head in on this little meeting, expecting to write a brief, tops. Nope! Which brings up an interesting point: $60K in student loans and apparently I have zero news judgement. Good times.
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