I’m Awful Volume I: The Weatherman
While many people may want to come back in their next life as a world leader or maybe a movie star, I want nothing more than to come back as a Weatherman. I say Weatherman because meteorologist implies there’s some type of science involved and there clearly fucking isn’t. When you Google Meteorologist, the images come up show more avatars, studio workers, and douchey people than they do the modern convention of the the Weatherman. You’ll notice the emphasis on Weatherman only out of sheer convenience. If anything, women should be happy that they aren’t lotted in with the social albatross that is the modern day medecine man. No one cares what you have to say because you’re awful.
To put things into perspective, can you think of a job where you could be right never of the time and still keep your job? Even further into perspective, in baseball, you could bat .300 (meaning you got a hit 3 out of every 10 at bats for those of you who like soccer, fags) for your entire career and you are nearly assured of the Hall of Fame. Seriously? the American past time only requires 30% efficiency and weather we accept from failed abortions at whatever they give us?
Here’s how I get the weather. I look out my fucking window. If I want advanced notice, I call my sister in Indiana. The end.
36 Hour forecast? I’m skeptical. 3 day forecast? I doubt it. 10 day forecast? GO FUCK YOURSELF IN THE EAR, SHIT AIN’T NEVER GONNA BE RIGHT YOU PIECE OF WANNA BE SCIENTIFIC CUM DUMPSTER!!!
Just saying, it would be amazing to be wrong, everyday, and have everyone be thankful when I was right. I’d imagine it’s the same bliss a kid with down syndrome feels.
-The Friendly Asshole