Boston, MA – Well, that’s the last time I listen to the Wicked Improper Live Doppler. That shit was real. That storm tracker could not have been more accurate. When the system originally began gathering energy off the coast of Somalia, the novice meteorologist in me was like “no fucking way is this shit going to reach Massachusetts.” It honestly felt like it was a continent away. And then it was off, just like a Beach Boys song, through Bermuda and Jamaica, and a few other places I’d like to take ya. It even paused to sprinkle a little jism into Castro’s beard in Cuba, then skirted around Florida to gather up enough speed to violently ram all 10 inches of its’ dick into the vagina of New York City. Raw. No lube, no steak tip dinner, no Maroon 5 tickets or anything. Subways flooded. Hospitals closing. Generators failing. Just think about that conversation with a patient.
Nurse: “We have good news and bad news.”
Patient: “Bad news? Motherfucker, I’m already on a ventilator. What could be more bad than that?”
Nurse: “Well, you know how when the power goes out, the Hospital has a bank of generators that allows us to keep all of the machines, including your ventilator, completely operational?”
Nurse: “Well, they are not working. Like many of the patients in Intensive Care, the generators have literally shit the bed. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
Patient: “No, no. That was pretty good. So, what’s the good news?”
Nurse: “You’re first on the list to get your last rites!” (blows into noisemaker and tosses a small handful of confetti)
Fortunately for me, the hardest part of the storm was having to ‘weather’ every asshole saying “At least it’s not the white stuff!” Let that weather pun wash all over you. Ahh, there it is. Yeahhhhhh.