Every year, those of us on the east coast of the United States are terrorized by weathermen and media pundits, decrying the "storm of the century." Oh! The mega-hurricane is coming up the coast! It's going to level every city, drown dogs in their back yards, throw great-white sharks up into supermarket parking lots where they'll eat your children! Help! Help! Aughh-gurgle-gurgle!
This year it was Irene, which did little more than bring a bunch of rain down upon us. There was one unfortunate guy who had a tree limb fall on him, but other than that and a handful of other unfortunate incidents, it was a pretty harmless storm.
Here's a little song I threw together for the blessed event! God save Biff Buffington!
It's been raining 'round the bend
Looks like it's never gonna end
And here I sit alone in this parade
No telling where I've been
Or when I'll be back again
For the Weather Channel calls for Armageddon!
But the wind and the rain
Don't cause a lot of pain
For me
'Cause I'm sitting in this room
Looking out at Sunday gloom
But the sun will still be shining in the morning.
The hurricane drizzle couldn't make a flag unfurl
And the trees are barely waving
Yet they evacuate the masses
Lock them up together
For their own protection
So the rapes and looting can go on unabated
Meanwhile the rain keeps falling
And the clouds are surely laughing
At the ludicrosity of man's folly
But you never know
God might send down his big toe
And squash all them unbelievers
It can't get much calmer
Eye of the storm is
The entirety of its being
It's not about to make
Widows of the great
Mover and shakers of our time
More people will die
Choking on candied ginger
Than fall prey to the storm of the century
Pray your way to safety
After all disaster is dead
God didn't send it to kick your ass
Or else you'd be kissing his now
Why must it take irrational fear
To send the faithful flying?
Shouldn't they believe in the glory
Of a bright summer's day?
The storm is a-comin'
Don't doubt it for a second
You'll all be eating string beans
And crying for your mommies
When the rain never stops
And the trusses fall apart
You'll be wishing you'd bought
Salvation for $19.95
Then maybe you'd still be alive
You know we'll all be
Better off tomorrow
Holler and cheer
That you beat the reaper yet again
Never will false prophecies of doom
Escape your waiting mind
It'll come true next time
So says primetime