My alarm clock is set to wake me to the local NPR station. Honestly, it’s a waste of the alarm clock to use the local NPR station as the station of choice because the alarm clock has HD radio built into it and the sound quality of our NPR station is anything but “HD”. Because of obsession with time, my alarm clock is set precisely to the atomic clock. When the alarm goes off at the top of the hour, NPR is firing off the national news. I usually listen to that, then the local weather forecast, before hopping out of bed and starting my day.
I’m not a huge fan of the weatherman on the local station. He tends to be overly dramatic whenever there’s anything more than a stray puffy cloud in the sky. I don’t want that. I want the forecast delivered in a calm, rational manner. If I want hysteria I can certainly find it elsewhere.
This morning this weatherman went on and on about storms moving into the area. He was quite concerned about snowstorms moving into the area, even though it is February here in Upstate New York and we have seen snow here as late as Mother’s Day.
As he went on and on and he got more and more excited. I pictured him jumping up and down with excitement in his little home studio from where he calls his forecast into the stations that contract him. I wondered if he was wearing sweatpants.
He then started talking about the “Grand Daddy of all storms” moving up from the Carolinas. There was something about Western New England and some swirling over the Hudson Valley, a retrograde and then some Atlantic moisture.
This “Grand Daddy Of All Storms” was going to dump … wait for it… “possibly as much as a foot of snow in some parts of the listening area.”
Big friggin’ whoopdie doo.
“Grand Daddy Of All Storms”? “Up to a foot”?
In 1994 our area had over four feet dumped on us in less than 12 hours.
In 2008 or 2009 (senile moment), parts of the listening area had nine feet dumped on them in 36 hours.
“Up to a foot?”
I had visions of having to contract a road snow plow to clean out our driveway before he announced expected accumulation. I had thoughts of 2012 coming early with this Grand Daddy Of All Storms bringing a white armageddon down upon us. I was ready for Judgement Day.
“Grand Daddy Of All Storms”. “Up to a foot.”
It was then that I jumped out of bed, slammed my finger down on the power button and then reprogrammed the radio to a different station for further alarm duties.
I don’t need unwarranted hysteria like that in the morning and especially from an NPR affiliate.
