Jim Morrison: One stormy personality
Anyone who whines about the fact that South Florida has no change of season ought to bear one thing in mind: We do have at least two seasons -- and sometimes, even three. The first extends six months, from June 1 to November 30 -- an ungodly long portion of the year if you ask us -- and is dubbed Hurricane Season, marked not by the changing of the leaves or a shift in temperature but rather by the intense interest in any little blob forming off the coast of Africa and its subsequent progress on a potentially deadly collision course with that spit of sitting-duck-type terrain otherwise known as Florida.
There's the three months preceding Hurricane Season, generally referred to as "Get ready to panic and prepare for ultimate devastation as predicted by forecasters as far away as Colorado and agreed upon by local officials, media, and meteorologists." We celebrate by conceding that it's not a matter of if but rather when we're going to be wiped off the map.
The third season is an option, but judging by the dire predictions that accompany the second, it's almost a certainty. It's called "Clean up all the shit caused by the storm" season, whereby we go through the devastation of our homes, our lives, our neighborhoods, and then welcome the National Guard and the prospects of living life without electricity for three months.
Ah, what better way to celebrate the passing of the seasons! Given that we're apparently stuck with this rather unfortunate scenario and a ton of rain already since June 1, we here at New Times have come up with a way to mark these circumstances with some musical merriment, namely, top ten songs well-suited for the stormy season.More »