Get ready, get set…FREAK OUT!

The media has dropped the ball in Georgia, so it's up to me to fill the void.

(newsroom)
This is anchorperson Grant broadcasting more or less live to keep you up to date on the latest developments with hurricane Rita and how it impacts the most important economic and sociological region on planet Earth, namely the Atlanta area. Learning a lesson from Katrina, we have pledged to do our best to serve all people in the storm’s immediate path, be they from downtown Atlanta or the much better cities in the Northern suburbs. We now go to meteorologist Grant in the Storm Stalker π center. Grant?

(weather room)
In accordance with prophecy, the salty wet hand of god is reaching from the heavens to lay the smackdown on our fair city. Katrina’s promise of worldwide destruction may have been limited to a puny 99,000 square miles that technically fell outside of the Atlanta area, but I have full faith that Rita now comes to fulfill our litany of devastation.

(newsroom)
Um, does that mean you’ve been praying for a natural disaster to hit us?

(weather room)
I’m tired of being treated like a second-class reporter.

(newsroom)
Okay, that’s enough of that. While Grant has his medications adjusted, we take you to Grant who’s out in the field getting necessary footage of trees and an expendable reporter being buffeted by high winds.

(external camera)
Well, as you can see, it’s getting a little overcast here, and the wind is almost strong enough to ruffle my hair. We’re still awaiting Rita’s arrival, which could happen any second now. She could be lurking behind those trees in the background even as we speak. So, although you don’t really see anything right now, if I was standing the in the middle of a real storm, you would be highly impressed. I would stagger around like a ton of invisible bricks had dropped onto my back and would shout into my microphone like a stoner at a Metallica concert, at least until a flying bus smashed into my face, hurled me into a ditch, and left me bleeding like a nun peppered with buckshot and left to die a horrible, screaming death as her guts oozed onto the ground like a hot fudge sundae under a heat lamp. *

(newsroom)
Thanks, Grant. Try to cut the simile from your diet. Let’s go to the computer where our team has been working around the clock for the last several days plotting the most likely course for hurricane Rita.

(computer image)


(newsroom)
This just in: Winds are currently exceeding light speed and the storm is expected to become the country’s first category Holy Shit! Mark Six hurricane. We now go to our part-time, backup, alternative, secondary assistant editor with this important message.

(editor’s desk)
Thanks, Grant. Let me begin today’s broadcast by saying AAAAAAUGH! WE’RE ALL GONNA FUCKIN’ DIE! But before that happens, I strongly urge you all to feel very nervous and flood the streets with your cars as you buy all the gasoline, milk, and toilet paper in the state. You never know. There might be a shortage. Back to you, Grant.

(newsroom)
Well, as you have just heard, there is almost no hope for the survival of the human race, especially not if you live in Georgia. Computer models predict a small contingent of humanoids could survive in the remotest regions of Canada, but recent studies show that you are five times more likely to be anally raped by moose in those areas, so I for one will stay put and take my medicine. Nothing to do now but make peace with our Satanic overlords, get drunk, and wait for the inevitable to pass.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.


* If the image disturbs you, imagine that a do-gooder finds the nun and rushes her to the hospital where the doctors proclaim she has a good chance of living but will most likely lose an eye and some of her teeth. **

** If that still bothers you, you may want to consider reading a different blog.