Frog Applause by Teresa Burritt for September 01, 2024

That’s rough. My inner Renaissance Man thinks I’m a doofus.

You may be misinterpreting things. To a meteorologist, chemist, physicist, or anybody in the hard sciences, it is all about pressure. There is pressure, and the absence of pressure. Things move from areas of higher pressure, to areas of lower pressure, forced by pressure.

To quote one scholarly work on the process:

It’s the terror of knowing what this world is about

Watching some good friends screaming, “Let me out”

Pray tomorrow gets me higher, higher, high

Pressure on people, people on streets

My inner temptations blowing in the kitchen.

Well, if he’s anything like the meteorologist around here, he is always wrong, so maybe you can take heart in that, and go kiss the sky.

I need paper with training ruling.

I kind of liked the weather A-holes back in the day…before they all had to go to Weather School. They’re just as dopey, but now they pretend to know more.

Joe? Joe Btfsplk? Is that you?

Faulty Brain Mannerism Slop.

Looks like his inner meteorologist just ejected from his left earhole.

Phone your cable person, as The Weather Channel is breaking up.

Hippy Dippy Weather Man™>George Carlin.

Bic® lighter and a fart…

Wow! Not only does he hate you, but he’s given you a splitting headache! —Yep; he’s a Weatherman, for sure….

At least your inner voice is respectable. Mine is a telemarketer.

We’ll weather it.

I don’t want to rain on my own parade, but…

… the meteorologist had a see-through blouse…

…and a run in her stockings…

…it made me think back to when the internet was brand-new…

…and these voluptuous newscasters undressed…

…while reporting the latest headlines…

…being totally naked at the end…

…what kept me there was actually the news…

…because when I even go further back in my memory…

…nine years old at Gramma’s…

…watching the small b/w tv in the enclosed porch…

…looking through Playboys …

… objectifying women…

…yet turning their beauty into a weapon…

…terrifying…

…switch forward to my tree trimming days…

…two male strippers were hired on …

…the first guys I ever know that shaved their chests…

…not so much incredible hulks …

…but well defined…

…they were both the most timid…

… insecure…

…the most broken fellows I knew…

…very little self worth…

…the felt shame…

…guilt…

…but said when they went stripping….

…they felt like gods…

… then the director’s cut of Apocalypse Now…

…showed Playmates…

…broken in the same way…

…and I see myself broken…

…tongue tied around women I find absolutely blown away beautiful…

…while cruel jerks circle them like sharks…

…and tomorrow it will sunny with the temperature back up to a very comfortable 78°…

…back to you, Ted…

…with a 48 percent chance of reign of terror and getting thunderstruck — and now, on to your weather forecast…

Weather rock on …!

( if it’s wet = rain )

Inner Indian Giver.

Grand Pooba of Fred Flintstone’s Water Buffalo Tribe. Barney too!

Meter Yard and goalalagym four a touchdown. Goal Post Swinger spinner chicken man.

Odd, this did not load on my page yesterday. My inner meteorologist must have had a rain date.

Weather gives me a splitting headache.

My therapist doesn’t even understand me!

And HATES me, besides!!

Mine just laughs and says, “Now over to Brad Wacker for sports…”.

Nuts