A Meteorological Message from Mean Old Man

I’m fit to be tied like a cow to the slaughter over the way the stupid liberal weather forecasters are trying to scare everybody over the coming hurricane!!!  And even worse, the dumbbells all fall for it!!!!!!!  I guess now my weekend trip to Wal-Mart and the grocery store will be ruined because all the namby pamby commie heathens will be out hoarding flashlights, candles, and every other damned thing under the sun.  Then I’ll have to wait in line for an hour or a half hour at best just to check out my few things!!!!   And don’t tell me to go to the ten items or less line because the stupid morons always line up in that aisle with thirty!!! DAMN!!!!!!
Back in my day we had hurricanes too, but we didn’t get all upset about them!!!!  Hell,  we  wouldn’t even know if one was arriving, let alone a snowstorm because we didn’t have 24/7 weather on the radio (no TV back then---thank the Lord).  You woke the hell up, got out of bed and looked out the window.  That was the weather forecast!!!!  If it was raining you wore your rubbers, if it was  snowing  you put on  your trusty stocking cap and if it was sunny you enjoyed it!   It was never sunny, at least as far as I can remember.

I remember my old man during a hurricane back in the good ol’ 30’s.  He sent me out to Joe the Butcher’s corner pickup to buy a sixer of Ballantine.  Good ol’ Ballantine, I don’t think they make that anymore.  Anyways, I was a little runt and made it a point to be seen and not heard as Pops wanted it.  I remember he told Mom to go to the ice box and get him a bottle after returning from a rough day at the breaker.  She told him that it was all gone since he had brought the boys home the night before for an surprise evening of poker.  Well, good ol’ Pops flipped telling Mom that as lady of the house it was her place to see that all his needs were met since he spent all day doing actual work.  I still can recall the whistling wind outside the house and the shaking of the windows and rafters.  The lights were flickering off and on but Pops needs came first. 

“Hey, dunce (Pops always had a nickname for each of us kids) take this fifty cent piece and get yourself down to Joe’s for a six pack, and I want it yesterday!”  He then proceeded to put the half buck coin in the palm of my hand and cracked me across the face with the palm of his hand.  Because he knew the importance of discipline, something the spoiled brats of today don’t get.  So, I put on my coat and hat and tread down the road to Joe’s.  I can still recall the stinging rain hitting my face and taste the small bit of blood that had seeped into my mouth from my whacking a few minutes before.  A huge gust of wind hit me and pretty much lifted me from the ground and down onto my kister.  It was then that I realized that the fifty cent piece flew out of my hand and damned if I could find it.  I looked all over but what with the darkness the rain and the heavy wind, I couldn’t see it.  It was then that I did a reverse trek on home and knew what was waiting for me.  When I opened the door Pops heard my voice from inside the kitchen.  “Wow, the twerp really was fast tonight!!  Maybe we should have a darn hurricane every day!!!”

Of course, then Pops walks into the kitchen and sees none of his beloved Ballantine.  “Where the hell’s my beer, runt!!??  What did you spend that half buck on candy again???!!!?”  I then began to tell him of the heavy wind that threw me and how I lost the coin but I didn’t get a chance to even finish my words.  He proceeded to place a shiner the size of a silver dollar on my left eye and then place a similar one on my right eye for good measure (to be fair, the one on my right eye was probably the size of a quarter).  Calling me every vile name in the book he kicked my down the basement steps and threw me in the coal chute where I was told I was to spend the night.  Lying amongst a pile of Anthracite feeling the wind seeping through the basement windows onto my body I felt like hell.  MY eyes were now beginning to swell to a point where I could barely see; my throat became dry from breathing in the ash and lack of water; my back and legs were throbbing as a result of multiple kicks on my trip to the chute.  It was agonizing, degrading, frightening……almost inhumane……and I loved it!!!!!!!!  Because I learned a very simple lesson that night.  When your old man gives you money to buy beer, put the damn money in your pocket and not in your stupid hand especially if there’s a hurricane going on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Every time hurricane season arrives I think of good ol’ Pops.  He was one of a kind….when they made him they broke the mold.  I miss him a lot.

So, when all you prissy liberals start crying and shaking about the upcoming hurricane remember that you ain’t got it so bad.  I’m sure you’ll be in the corner shaking in your thousand dollar designer shoes---not Praying because most of you are so full of ego that you don’t even acknowledge our Lord Jesus Christ.
As for me, I’ll be sitting in my trusty recliner, lighting a lucky, swilling a Steg (Gold Medal) and listening to the late great Lena Horne singing Stormy Weather on the ol’ Victrola.
That’s how I deal with a hurricane…….
I hate you all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!