August 30, 2011

Trivia Blog: Blow Me, Irene

These Trivia Blog posts come from the emails I send out as Quizmaster of the Gael Pub Trivia Night every Tuesday.  But seeing as how they comprise most of the writing I seem to do these days, I thought it fitting to include them on the Pale Writer blog as well.  I won't include things like info about categories or drink specials, but will keep the bulk of the rest.  Hopefully you enjoy, so much so that you come out some Tuesday at 8:30 (3rd Ave. b/t 82nd and 83rd)...

Thank god I live on the 4th floor…

Now that Irene’s much ballyhooed path has finished strolling through New York City and we’ve been able to pump all 0.6 inches of water out of the Gael Pub, I think we’re ready to offer up another night of trivia goodness for you fine folks.  Has this been the most overhyped week of weather ever?  First we get Great Quake ’11, the earthquake that half of the city didn’t even feel, while the other half had to suffer through only the pain of feeling like a jackass for running out into the street screaming like an extra in a bad 70s disaster movie.  (I, sadly, was not so lucky.)  Then, mere days later, we’re told to expect a Day After Tomorrow-like level of meteorological doom, and instead are treated to mother nature’s version of setting up the sprinkler in the backyard because your deadbeat dad decided to spend the money in the swimming pool fund on his crippling video poker/peach schnapps addiction.

(Quick Serious Note:  I’m speaking strictly as a Manhattanite in this here email, so I mean no disrespect to the places where Irene actually caused significant damage.  As a native Ohioan who’s had to witness what a tornado can do to an unready populace, I have nothing but empathy for those people who lost homes or loved ones during the storm. End of Quick Serious Note.)

My issue with how the Weekend of Irene went down isn’t with Bloomberg and his (probably overcompensating from the blizzard) preparations, or even how people in the city responded to these warnings.  After all, it’s better to over-prepare than to wind up standing on the roof of your apartment building, trying to catch pigeons using a stick and the drawstring from your gym shorts to fill the gaping hole in your stomach normally filled by brunch.  Although, some people maybe went a bit too Y2K with the whole thing, as evidenced by this line I saw that went out the Trader Joes, down the street,  and around the corner.  Just because you’re a potential storm refugee doesn’t mean you can’t buy organic at the same time, I suppose.

No, my main source of disgust came from how the media tried to validate their riDICulously over-sensationalized pre-storm coverage and predictions of blown-out high-rise windows and flying tree limbs/thin people that would surely come to plague Manhattan when the storm hit.  All day on Sunday, all I heard on the news was, “Now just imagine if the storm surge had been only a few feet higher,” and, “These trees are still standing, but if the winds had topped 75 miles per hour like we thought…,” and, “My god, I’m a joke.  I’ve given up on my dream of being the next Al Roker.  My wife is drunk all day and I think she’s banging her yoga instructor and all I have in my life is this haircut.”  Okay, I made the last one up.  But you can’t go from saying we were going to be blown to Canada (great porno, by the way) to making it out like you were still sort of right.  That’s like taking a girl home from the bar, being struck by the terrors of premature ejaculation, and then telling her how amazing you could have been if you were in your normal zone while she’s shoving you out the door.  Next time, let’s just stock up on crackers and booze and ride the storm out, eh?

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