A weatherman
in crisis
is not something the public is interested in seeing.
They want
forecasts, temperatures.
They get tears, confabulations, outbursts and exposure.
This could happen to anybody.
One minute, you're talking about high pressure.
The next, Woody with Sports enrages you with his talk of baseball and
basketball; his death seems mandated
and necessary.
Listen to me and learn, Grasshopper.
Just backpedal through the studio doors two minutes ahead of the cops.
Take over the crosswalk from the street preachers
and roll with it.
The arrest of a weatherman is not a common thing.
Tazed, his delivery becomes staccato and shrill, disturbing, mad.
If it begins to rain, oh then the cops will need him,
the station will be contrite,
viewers forgiving.
But if the sun stays out,
all day, all night,
the whole Universe will have lost its mind and the Weatherman,
installed at last as Supreme Commander,
will have his revenge upon
the public,
the European Model,
and every trend and anomaly that unhinged and changed him.
Try voice command then.
Try the mute button then,
you worms, writhing expectantly under the shadow of his unstoppable boot.
_____
a compound of idiocy and nonsense for real toads.
Well I love it, and it makes perfect sense to me. But something tells me you're just trying to take a jab at me. That's okay, baby. Bring it. Give me your hardest punch; I can take it. And if it turns out not, I'm quite ready to die.
ReplyDeleteThat fourth stanza launches me to the moon, man. Puh-lease keep writing!!!
How wonderful this is, Shay. I read it with an increasingly big smile on my face, thinking 'Where does this woman get all her good ideas?'
ReplyDelete*Fanning myself briskly with pleasure*
ReplyDeleteOh Shay! (Thanks for stopping by...QUACK!)
This is one of those poems that seen anywhere, anonymous, I would know for your own, Shay. Through the dubious wonder of modern technology, the madhouse comes to us, every day, and the madmen trapped within its little screened box self-importantly display their various talents. I love the surreal way the Weatherman becomes godlike, as indeed, all madmen think they do--and mistake our pity for fear--that said, there is also just a pure satirical side to this that is hilarious in its own right--and who can see TV take itself seriously at its own inflated face value without feeling that, really.
ReplyDeleteYou amaze me. Like Kerry, I keep thinking HOW do you keep coming up with these ideas? SO entertaining. I loved it. I will never look at a weatherman the same way again, now that I know what they are capable of.
ReplyDeleteWhoa.. you totally knocked off my socks with this one :D
ReplyDeleteWow, this is wonderful, I have had some of these feelings about various TV personalities. I enjoyed following this story with you.So well done.
ReplyDelete"his death seems mandated
ReplyDeleteand necessary."
Oh, yes!
Haha, this is terrific! But we NEED the Weather-Man. Man!
ReplyDeleteThis is bringing a story, a novel maybe? into the edges of my addled brain but I can't quite access what it is. If I remember I'll come back.
Wonderful, classic Shay.
Love it. What gets me is when they are out in a blizzard or hurricane trying to remain upright, then telling everyone to stay inside because the conditions are too dangerous. Really? I would never have thought of that or about buying extra water, batteries and candles.
ReplyDeleteLove the this.. is it really that way where we are heading?
ReplyDeleteEspecially that European way.
My daughter is listening to "Hamilton" (Broadway) non-stop and I seem to be rapping all the poems today. This one really works and I'm wondering if it is because of all your compound words. :)
ReplyDeleteloved it. we can all just 'snap!'
ReplyDeleteMan, I loved this wild ride. I felt like I was in a Pulp Fiction-style movie, for a second there, being coached by a crazy man with a gun. ;) Perfection. LOVE this: "his death seems mandated
ReplyDeleteand necessary."
I dunno – sounds serious to me.
ReplyDeleteEpic! :)
ReplyDeleteThe weather gods must be shaking in their boots at this rising star ready to contest their powerful throne. He will beat the cops at their own arrest and turn the sun on them. Once derided for his oblique forecasts, the weatherman will rule supreme, controlling not just the weather, but the patterns of daily life. What fun.
ReplyDeleteI know several people whose death seems mandated and necessary.
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm with Kerry. How DO you get all your great ideas? (You never share your secret ;)
Weathermen are such drama queens, but they know how to insert themselves into the news. As always I scratch my head and wish I could write like this.
ReplyDeletewell, there are plenty of idiots out there that need a weatherman to tell them it's raining outside. love the bite here ~
ReplyDeleteMy weatherman finally grew on me, but that anchor...
ReplyDeleteLove this!
I got used to my weatherman, and forgive him in advance for always being wrong. Great poem!
ReplyDelete