Biggest. Worst. Strongest. Deadliest. Historic. The mother of all blizzards. Any time you describe something as being the most extreme you set yourself up for failure and criticism, unless you are doing it after the fact when there is actual physical evidence to support the description.
This week all of Manhattan shut down based on predictions of a blizzard of historic proportions. Two feet of snow as predicted with hurricane force winds. The nanny state jumped into full effect telling people to stay indoors or else. TV crews scurried into position and waited in Times Square for the storm that decided to take another tack.
The National Weather Service meteorologist whose educated guess at where the storm would hit sent out a Twitter message of apology. It basically said, "I did the best I could do with the data I had in hand and I blew it. Sorry."
Bostonians got the brunt of the storm, which was bad, but by Buffalo, New Standards not really the be all, end all winter storm. Buffalonians scoff at such stuff.
Each time we run into one of these situations I can't help but think how it's setting us up for cry wolf syndrome. It used to be that when a thunderstorm rolled through the Metroplex we would look at the sky and say, "Hey there's a storm. I'd better get an umbrella or get inside before I get wet." Now the TV stations go into full-on crisis mode, each wanting to be the first to make the leap to continuous storm coverage and each wanting to be the last one standing as they milk every drop they can what are usually lackluster storms.
It used to be that instead of having broadcasters breathlessly predicting our demise from that dime size hail in Decatur that we would, as I said earlier, look to the sky and see that the winds were increasing and hail was falling and we would scurry for shelter. It was common sense.
All this huffing and puffing and scaring people over mundane or even borderline dangerous situations is turning us into fretting, panty-wetting cream puffs. Everybody is afraid of the doom to come from the clouds including my pathetic dog Lucy. Even a thundershirt won't calm her down.
Look, I'm all for putting on the storm sirens and breaking into Wheel of Fortune or the Ben Ferguson show when it's legitimately necessary, say like when ISIS is mounting suicide attacks in my neighborhood or a tornado is bearing down on Jerry World in Arlington.
Until then can we just give out a nice measured, well-thought report that says we might have a pretty bad situation but we can't be sure. Use your common sense people and if it starts getting bad head inside. Is that really too much to ask?
That's what I'm thinking.
Rick Hadley
24/7 News
