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This Must Stop

8:00 AM EDT on May 19, 2010

Alright, who pissed of Gary England?

My guess is it's this guy whose back now looks like Patrick's during the brief period of time he was really into body building. Whatever he did to coax the man who controls the weather to pelt him with ice from the sky is having adverse collateral damage to everyone else.

Because everyone is very concerned, Matthews Manor was in the line of the storm. In fact, I'm pretty sure that when I turned on my TV to watch game one of the Eastern Conference finals, the arrow Rick Mitchell was drawing from Kingfisher was pointed directly at my house.

The thing was, at that time, the temperature was about eighty degrees, it was so sunny outside that my skin had chastized me for sweeping the front porch five minutes earlier, and there was hardly any breeze. Thirty minutes later, I was restricting the ClarkPupp (who, for the first time in his life, demanded to play next to the picture window) to the sofa while the gods used my property as a driving range.

I actually got off kind of lucky. My six month old roof, and gutters are dented to hell, but my giant tree limited the amount of hail damage to my car and kept any windows from being broken out. One of my side mirrors got busted, though, so Gary is going to have to deal with those seven years of bad luck.

Afterward, the ground was covered in healthy looking leaves, sticks, and a thick coating of ice that created enough steam to make Oklahoma City look like Tim Burton's vision of Sleepy Hollow.  The goth kids in town were as excited as Chad when Cinemax runs a free preview weekend.

After half a day of cleaning up storm debris, though, you would hardly be able to tell that the sky opened up on us, at all, if it weren't for the army of roofing contractors deluging the neighborhood including a single engine plane flying a sign a hundred feet overhead. Except now, there is even more severe weather headed this way. Something must be done. We must appease Lord Gary.

So, in the comment section, I invite you to massage the ego of our most powerful weather forecaster. Otherwise, we might have a snownado next week during an earthquake.

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