Before I launch into the subject at hand, I must mention a new blog I like, Poefrika:
Some nice postings there, and the person has multiple blogs. He just posted a very witty short poem by Amiri Baraka.
....In less exciting news, I've always been attracted to the patter and rhetoric of weather-persons, especially in the Pacific Northwest, where the weather-persons on TV often have to invent weather-variety where there is none. They also often use the term "sun-breaks." In California, the same phenomenon is called "cloudy."
I played around with slightly more sinister forecasts:
Tomorrow calls for rain, followed by urine in the afternoon. (This is probably too unpleasant to be funny. Or just unfunny.)
Thursday looks like patchy morning fog, followed by a rash over your entire body in the evening hours.
By this time tomorrow, we can expect Hell to be cooler than Earth.
Partly cloudy in the afternoon, with absolutely no chance of meeting that special person with whom you might like to spend the rest of your life.
Snow in the higher elevations, turning into psychosis in the foothills.
A slight chance of rain, but no chance that your roommate will bathe within the next 10 days.
This morning, a colleague reminded me that Abe Lincoln, self-deprecatingly, once said, "By the time you're 35, you've earned the face you have."
This is a roundabout way of saying that I hope tomorrow brings you weather you enjoy, whether (nyuk, nyuk) you think you've earned it, or your face, or not.