Attaboy

I see a lot of reporting this morning about Hurricane Dennis. Some of the stores have the tone that “this storm wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” comparing the 120 MPH Dennis with last year’s stronger Ivan. Dennis came ashore about 50 miles east of the Ivan trike point near Pensacola, and apparently moved through more rural areas, minimizing the damage.

But as one weather forecaster commented in something I read yesterday, getting hit by a 120 MPH Dennis versus a 145 MPH Ivan is like choosing between being hit by an 18-wheel truck and a freight train.

One more thing I’ll never understand: why do the Weather Channel and many local TV stations insist on having some poor on-scene reporter standing out on a street bordering the beach as the front the hurricane’s eyewall comes ashore? I watched a videotape report from such a fellow yesterday. The wind was literally lifting him off his feet, he could barely speak from the pressure of the wind and rain, and you could see the occasional projectile roll by as a sign or branch or shingle was ripped from it’s moorings. Of course, the person you don’t see is the poor cameraman/woman, who’s not only trying to stay upright, but trying to do so while holding a heavy object on his or her shoulder. No glory there.

We all know how dangerous these storms are. Human sacrifices are unnecessary. If you must videotape the landfall, try anchoring a camera to the roof of a building and let the reporter do a blow-by-blow account remotely from the nearest sound building. Or the next state. In fact, why is narration even necessary? We all know what’s up: high damaging winds, sideways-moving rain, big surf, storm surge. This is like watching the Yule Log on television: what’s there to narrate? There’s a log in the fireplace, and it’s burning.