In our area weatherpersons come and go like gypsies and cold fronts. Some are good and some are bad.
Generally speaking I’ve found that the
best TV weatherpersons are found where the weather is the worst. My
problem with most TV weather reports is that the weather is not taken
seriously enough. To me the weather report is far more important than
what happened in Syria or what Congressperson got caught with his pants
down, or his hand in the till. I guess I’ve been in the beef business
for too long but the weather is no joking matter. In many instances the
weatherperson is some sort of clown. It’s no accident that Willard
Scott, the most famous weatherperson in TV history, was the original
Ronald McDonald, or that his “training” to be a weatherman included
stints as Bozo the Clown.
I’ve met a few “celebrity weathermen”
over the years because at many of the charity auctions we worked the
local TV station would send the weatherperson to “jazz up the auction.”
Usually these local stars felt compelled to imprint their personality on
the sale. Years ago I was at a Junior Livestock Auction and the local
TV station had sent their weather reporter with the idea that his
presence would help create excitement and therefore raise more money for
the kids. When we were selling the Grand Champion Steer the weatherman
first stood ringside with a cane he’d borrowed from a hog showman and
was swinging it so wildly he nearly decapitated one of the real ring
men. To everyone’s shock the weatherman then grabbed the microphone off
the block from the auctioneer and tried to call bids. Needless to say,
he had no chant and was awful. He didn’t advance the bid one thin dime
and the crowd had clearly had enough of his narcissistic behavior. As he
obnoxiously implored the crowd to bid he walked up to the rear of the
steer, raised his hand and emphatically slapped the steer on its rump
with a big THWACK!
In the flick of an eye, with a crack that
sounded like thunder the steer shot a kick that landed… well let me put
it this way. If we suppose the weatherman’s head was number one and his
feet were number ten, the weather guy got it right about number five.
He dropped the microphone and fell to his knees with his lips forming a
big round circle of pain… “OOOOOO!”
There was a smattering of groans and
impolite cheers and a couple standing ovations from the cowboy crowd who
for years had been given a bum steer by this obnoxious weatherman.
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