Sax the Weatherman Saves Denver

Well, I was relaxing on a beautiful Saturday during a brief visit to the Mile High City where I had been were invited to the Grand opening of an Art Gallery named in my Honor. Once we got there, I was disappointed that the folks who ran the gallery were not too good on their American and misspelled my name. Not to worry, Saxettes, nothing permanent marker and a black spraypaint could not cure.

As we stood there, a horrible wind blew out of the east and ruffled by head(evidently nothing horrible comes out of the west). Having watched too many hours of the Weather Channel as I channel surfed, I knew that there was trouble brewing...

(Camera fades to a Casablanca type flashback)

My father encouraged me to enter such a noble profession were you have a 50% possibility of being right. His words still reverberate in the recess of my mind ."Damn Good odds boy, can't even get those in Vegas," he would mutter, "plus chicks dig the weather guy." After being told the latter, caution was thrown to the wind and I started out to discover the inner secrets of the world's oldest profession. (Historical Little known fact that the the second oldest, prostitution, relied on the oldest profession to determine the feasibility of being able to go out and practice the second oldest.) Well, when I discovered that science classes were a prerequisite and going outdoors to do live shots in the middle of apocalyptic storms was part of the job, I decided to stay in the sanctity of my home and take notes on how the guys on the tube handled themselves. The only stint I got was a the age of 18, when I was working as a bagboy at the local supermarket and was told to stay outside once to warn the customers about the coming drenching. Mind you, this was years before cable and the WC, but I did me best, after all chicks dig the weather guy. (Afterwards, the only woman who talked to me, holding my bags, as I stood drenched on the last car to Marseilles, was my mother, who scolded me for being a fool and getting sick by standing out in the rain and lightning).

(Fade Back To Present)

So as the Denver torrential downpour was imminent and the crowds began to get restless and panicked, I noticed that one of the stations was doing a local feed from the street corner. I knocked over the bottle of cheap gin and stumbled over to assist.

Hearing the distress in Sweet Anne's Voice and startled by the catatonic state this pending disaster had produced in Mike( Rock of Gibraltar) Landess, I went into action and did my best to calm the nerves of this great American city.





Wearing an over sized, but comfortable shirt, which would pass for a flapping windbreaker on any HDTV, I positioned myself on a deserted country road at the cusp of the storm and began, in a calming Orson Wellsinian voice, to give the play by play. Feeling like Heston parting the red sea, I raised the microphone/lightning rod into the air and damned the storm back into the Gulf of Mexico from whence it came. After almost getting electrocuted when a bolt came to close, I ran back into the over-equipped weather van and continued my broadcast until it became safe outside.



So, having given notice to the front range as to where and when this beast would hit, I slept well that night(still no chicks), knowing full well countless lives and property were saved by my quick bravado in the face of such doom,

So Sez Sax....



(No weathermen were injured or consulted during the writing of this blog)