Another Damn Hurricane.

Pardon the preemptive blogging. It is actually Friday, July 8, but I will post stuff for Saturday and Sunday. As my Weather Channel addiction reveals, a massive evil hurricane lies only a day away, and my guess is that the Big Top will be without power for a few days. Please read Friday's offering and stop reading HERE until Saturday. Gottcha! See you went too far. You still are reading. Bastard.

Living in Florida during a hurricane gives one appreciation of what it is like to be a bowling pin. You see it coming, you will be spanked, and there is nothing you can do about it. I'm lamenting the fact that this is the first hurricane-oriented blog entry since I have started the NWodor. Perennially hurricane season sucks ass, but now global warming has brought the Gulf to new temperatures that fuel psychotic megastorms bent on pissing me off. Last year I got my ass kicked by Charlie, Frances and Jeanne. That sounds so gay.

I just cut my grass in anticipation of floods and rain associated with Dennis. With his kind hand the Creator has spawned an evil-low-pressure center of doom and it looks like we're going to get a good soaking and probably a tornado or two. Florida tornadoes are pretty lame. Being from the midwest, a tornado is something to fear. Here they are simply trailer tippers. Good thing, there are no basements in Florida.

A hurricane is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get. Flash flood, power out, lightning strikes, trees falling... it is like baby Jesus dun busted open a pinata of climatic events. All of the geeks on the Weather Channel have storm boners and local weenies track the storm on maps. The stores are packed and the only gas for miles is in my decending colon.

In the meantime, I'll pass time by calling insurance companies. I tell them I live in Pensacola on beachfront property and am interested in buying homeowners insurance. I have fun timing how long it takes to hear the "click".

I promise to sharpen a pencil and prepare for Amish Blogging, the results of which will appear here on Monday if I still have a house. The fun part is that all of the Southern fried tough guys like to "hunker down in the trailer and guard the homestead against the colored people". These are the same people that spell "ancestry" with an "I".

Rock on folks! Check your trees for misplaced clowns! See you in Oz!