Dear Doppler Radar,

I fucking hate you. The quirky local weatherman (or local slutty weather gal with huge juggernauts), gives you a special long winded name like, Mega Doppler 7000 Storm Tracker 2000 and claims you can track the weather down to a specific street corner. Yet when I watch your images, and see pixelated shades of green making their way across the Pacific towards my beloved Los Angeles, and I hear the weatherman translate your data into words, claiming a “major storm” is on the way, you always just end up betraying me. You are never right Doppler. Ever.

I get my hopes up for rain…it’s hot. I prepare to sweat…I’m cold.

“Storm will miss us” always means it will be a direct motherfucking bullseye.

“Light rain” means cats and dogs.

“Sunshine” means clouds.

“Get out your shorts” means put on pants and you better have an umbrella.

Thanks for making the one minute morning weather report a complete mind fuck. I thought you were supposed to be sophisticated…a technological marvel…a vast network of satellites giving me pinpoint accuracy. Afterall you are Doppler Radar 7000. 7000! I don’t even know what that means but 7000 is a lot, and frankly it sounds impressive, so just tell me where the goddamn rain is going.

So work on your craft and do better.

In the meantime, I think I’ll stick to the Farmer’s Almanac until you live up to the promise of your name.

Sincerely,

Yogurt Donor

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