Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Yo, Get Your Freakin' Wind Bag Outta Here!

Sorry for lack of postage... busy with school (stupid professors who expect me to learn; stupid editors who expect me to cite check AGAIN!; stupid wife who expects me to earn a living, so I have to interview... stupid life).

Anyway, I just saw this article that the National Hurricane Center may run out of storm names for this year's Hurricane season. But here's the best part
"We only have four names left on the list this year: Stan, Tammy, Vince and Wilma. If we have a fifth storm it would be named Alpha," said Daniel Brown, a meteorologist at the center, which is based in Miami, Florida.
Excuse me? Hurricane Wilma? What happened to Hurricane Bam Bam? And Hurricane Stan? My personal view is that hurricanes should not be named after Eminem Songs.

But my favorite is Hurricane Vince. Not Vincent, but Vince. If hurricanes could talk, this one would be entertaining:

Hurricane Vince (with a heavy Italian/Brooklyn Accent) I'm coming for you, you freakin' Florida coastline. We warned you that if you didn't pay up we'd have to come over their and break your freakin' legs. Why you wanna fuck with us like that?*
Florida Honestly, Vinny, we're getting the money today... you'll have it by 5 o' clock.
H.V. The big man is tired of waiting, Juice Boy, and we are tired of axing for the money. So, I will request it only one more time. The money.
FL No, please! What if we promise to restore the Everglades? How 'bout that?
H.V. I'll take it up with my associates

OK, not funny... oh well. Sleep deprivation will screw up your funny bone.

*The author of this blog in no way means to imply that all Italian Americans are members of the mafia, especially my two friends of Italian decent here at school, so don't send out the hit squad just yet... but come on this bit was too funny in my mind to resist, unfortunately, not that funny on the screen. Eh, waddya ya gonna do?


At 10:11 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lewis Black on hurricane names from his "White Album"

"...And you know what they called that Hurricane? "Bob." I don't know a lot, I know this: "Bob" is not a hurricane; "Bob" is an insurance salesman. From Topeka, Kansas. You meet Bob when your stuck in an airport cocktail lounge for two hours, because the airport's been watching the Weather Channel [reference to joke earlier in the routine]and you're stuck next to Bob and Bob starts talking about his wife and kids and he buys you some drinks and shows you pictures of the family and you start to think 'Hey, Bob's not a bad guy." and then Bob tries to sell you insurance and you have to say 'Fuck you, Bob!' That is a Bob."


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