ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE!

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

As a kid, I often wondered how hurricanes got their names and how I could become an Official Hurricane Namer. As a grown-up kid, my curiosity was re-piqued by Hurricane Fay’s southern onslaught, so I turned to that info-seekers’ Bible known as Wikipedia.

Turns out they’ve been using the same six lists of names since 1979. The lists are recycled every six years, except in the case of exceptionally destructive storms (e.g., 2005’s Katrina), whose names are retired by the National Hurricane Center. What this means is that we could be reading about Fay again in 2014, 2020, 2026, ad infinitum. Bo-ring.

Since this column is as close as I’ll ever get to the real thing, I hereby declare myself DDN’s Official Hurricane Namer. I’m 86’ing unimaginative handles like Larry and Gert, and dubbing these destructive dynamos with names that do them justice. Ladies and gentlemen, I present my answer to the NHC’s rehashed lists, in alphabetical order:

Aniston: Lovely to look at and probably a very nice hurricane, but men still run from it.

Bob Dylan: The answer, my friend – as well as your house and car – is blowin’ in the wind.

Cowell: You call yourself a hurricane? You’re terrible! Just abominable!

Diddy: Name of storm subject to change without notice.

Elvis: Its gyrations have been known to drive women crazy.

Federline: Just an ill wind frontin’ like it’s got mad hurricane skillz.
NOTE: It bears mentioning that when I originally wrote this column for publication in the Dayton Daily News, I was in the throes of sleep-deprived delirium and omitted the letter F. So YOU, dear blog readers, are getting both the P.S. version AND a preview of the "correction" I intend to include in my next column!

Gibson: Speeds along drunkenly, targeting religious minorities and law enforcement officers.

Halle: Considered the most beautiful hurricane by weather geeks in awe of her warm front.

Isaac Hayes: They say this storm is a bad mother … shut yo’ mouth!

Jacko: Tends to lighten up quickly. Meteorologists are puzzled by its inexplicable gravitation toward young boys.

Kutcher: Gale-force wind machine + 3 million gallons of water = Dude, you just got PUNK'D!

Lavigne: Not as tough as it thinks it is; tends to go and makes things so complicated.

Madonna: Starts out vibrant and lusty before deteriorating to a withered, dusty shell.

Napoleon Dynamite: It’s, like, only the sweetest flippin’ hurricane of all time, freakin’ idiot!

Oprah: Characterized by fluctuations in size; a bit ostentatious.

Perez Hilton: Tags along after bigger, more well-known storms, bellowing hot air and leaving a trail of slime in its wake.

Queen: Any way this wind blows, doesn’t really matter to me.

Rihanna: So torrid and tempestuous, you’ll need more protection than an umbrella (ella, ella).

Springer: Deceptively benign façade; its lunar pull causes unsightly simpletons to fight and/or disrobe.

Tony Soprano: Unearths all them stoolies that was sleepin’ wit’ da fishes … unless they’re wearin’ cement shoes.

Uma: Not dangerous unless you’re Ethan Hawke’s ex-nanny-turned-new-wife.

Vanna: Without her, Hurricane Pat would’ve been just another low-grade tropical storm.

Wang Chung: In spite of the wreck and ruin, it ensures everybody will have fun tonight.

Xena: She’ll hit ya hard … and make ya like it.

Yoko: Notorious for emitting a high-pitched screech not unlike a cat undergoing a root canal. Without anesthesia.

Zellweger: Best viewed while cutely squinching up one’s face.