Cloudy, with a Chance of Golf

Staring out the window, you mutter a string of choice words. In your mind; not out loud, even though you are the only one here. Then you laugh.

“It’s true,” you tell yourself. “Weathermen,” you ponder briefly, wondering if weatherwomen is a word yet, and you decide it probably isn't, “and weather women get paid a lot of money, and they don’t even have to get it right. If they share their best guesses on television they get paid even more.”

This isn’t the first time the forecast has been wrong. It isn’t even the first time this week. You should know not to rely on the forecast.

“I wonder why intelligent people spend a lot of money getting an alleged education in weather prediction when a dartboard would be just as effective? At least if the person throwing the darts has half an arm and one good eye to aim.”

The rain is still pouring down outside. You still can’t go play a round of golf. You can’t even go play a round of disc golf even if you were willing to skip real golf. Sure, you know you could play in the rain. Lots of people do. Of course, most of them get paid even more than the weathermen. Then your mind takes you back to that humorous track, thinking about dashboards.

“They could have different dartboards for varying climates, just to improve their odds. Maybe they do have dartboards, and all those projected weather maps are just for show.”

You chuckle at yourself, talking out loud to the raindrops sliding down the windowpane. You also find humor in the dartboard concept, with a variety of boards in your mind’s eye.

“The dartboard for Oregon and Washington state wouldn't have twenty slices all the same size, like a standard dartboard. One large part of the board, covering 75% and blue, would say rain. A tiny yellow sliver for the sun. The other sections, varying in sizes and shades of grey, for mostly cloudy, partly cloudy, scattered showers, scattered clouds. Oh, and maybe one sort of yellowish-grey for partly sunny, just a tiny bit bigger than the sliver for the sun.”

You look up. All you can see is clouds and rain. It doesn’t look like it will let up all day. Certainly not in time to get in a round of golf. Another heavy sigh. Back to the drawing board. No, back to the dartboard. Boards.

“Arizona and the southwest would almost be the same in reverse,” you tell yourself. “Maybe 80% of the board would be one slice, bright yellow, for sunny and hot. A few very small slices with hints of grey for various degrees of cloudiness. And an almost imperceptible sliver, too small for letters, indicating rain. Perhaps the inner third of that tiny slice colored dark blue, for heavy rain. And the flash floods that come with the downpour.”

You look left; streaks of water sheeting down. You look right, only to find more of the same. Even the pros wouldn’t play golf in weather like this. OK, you’re not such a duffer after all. Back to boards.

You could go back to the drawing board and work on next week’s comic strip. But you know how it is when your plans to play golf get thwarted. Or any other plans. Or disappointments. When your mood goes dark, so does the strip. Garbanzo, your protagonist, ventures into dark places when you’re in a foul mood. And foul weather equals foul mood, most of the time. Especially when you expected better, because of a faulty forecast. Eyes back to the window.

You look left, right, and up again. Rain, rain, and more rain. You look down. No rain puddles now. Just a solid sheet of standing water, covering the lawn, the sidewalk, the flower beds.

Hmm. A solid sheet of standing water. But if this was snow, it would be a blanket. You wonder why the difference? Especially since a good blanket would be warm, and snow isn’t. Ah, but if you were snuggled under the snow, completely covered, you could be warm. Right? Well, back to the dartboards again. No, back to intelligent people paying good money to learn all about how to get paid the big bucks for being wrong.

You consider, briefly, how your mind changes, switching from one topic to another. More changeable than the weather, obviously. Oh well, that’s a topic for another day. Another rainy day.

“They go to school and pile up student debt so they can be meteorologists. That’s why.” You’re sure about this one. And, your mind doing what it does best, you think of a joke now.

“A weatherman, a weather woman, and a meteorologist walk into a bar. No, they walk into a television studio, where there is a job opening for a TV weather . . . personality. They like the weatherman, so the hiring manager makes him an offer. While he’s thinking about it, they make an offer to the weather woman, because they really like her a lot. And she has a fresh, bubbly personality. So her offer is almost 75% of what they offered the weatherman.

But the meteorologist went to Texas A&M. Not just a great school for Meteorology, but for Atmospheric Sciences and Meteorology. His C.V. would certainly elevate their standing, and probably their ratings. They offer him the most, as much as their budget will allow. Before they get an answer from any of the three, they ask one question: "How often do you get it right?”

You take another look through the window. It looks like it’s letting up! You look up at the clouds, fluffy, a thick blanket of dirty grey. Nope; not letting up. Just your wishful thinking. You think about your joke again. Your painfully long, tedious joke. What’s the punchline going to be?

“The weatherman says he was right 85.2% of the time on his weather tests in school. The hiring manager glances at the man’s resume again, seeing that he is referring to his two-year degree in English, from a Community College.”

“The weather woman smiles and says she gets it wrong sometimes, but she always suggests viewers be prepared for sudden changes in the weather. The hiring manager smiles back. That’s a good answer, and one his viewing audience would appreciate."

“The meteorologist tells the hiring manager ‘I’m never wrong. But sometimes the weather pattern shifts unexpectedly.’ The hiring manager frowns. Maybe they should save some of that budget money, and hire someone that’s more relatable.”

You tell yourself this is a really long and terrible joke. That’s why you got into drawing comic strips instead of doing stand-up comedy. You can’t tell good jokes as well as you can draw something funny. Ever the optimist, at least according to all of your friends, you decide the joke is funny, and think about how it will end.

“The station hires the weather woman. She does great, gets it right most of the time, and ratings soar. So they decide to give her a raise and pay her as much as their last weatherman. The meteorologist goes to work for the competition, makes twice as much as the weather woman, even with her raise, and the station’s ratings drop.”

Nope. Not a good joke. You turn away from the window and look at the drawing board. Your mood hasn’t improved with that, so you probably shouldn’t work on the strip yet. But hey, you’re an optimist. The new strip isn’t due for another five days. The forecast calls for four of those days to be sunny, which means you’ll be in a great mood. That’s the silver lining you see.

Turning back to the window, you look at the rain. It looks more like drizzle now. You look up. You see a sun break in the clouds, and they’re lighter than they were. Smiling, you head to the garage to load up your clubs and head to the golf course. You pass the drawing board and the portable TV, tuned to the local channel.

The weather woman is smiling, pointing at the wall map projected onto the green screen behind her. It shows a weakening low front, the colors indicating almost no rain. 

“Looks like we’ll have more sun and warmer temperatures this afternoon,” she says.

“Looks like we will,” you agree. “She got it right. Again.”