Imagine that at one time, meteorology was a rather serious career in which you needed a four-year degree so that you could fully understand isobars, occluded fronts, and how to properly interpret a barometer before they would even think of putting you on TV to try and explain it to the folks watching at home.
If you could not explain the difference between cumulous clouds and nimbostratus clouds, you need not even apply!
Nowadays, they are only putting hot babes on the TV and slipping a few graphics behind her as she wiggles and giggles in front of them. The real meteorologists are upstairs in cramped cubicles, drinking styrofoam cups of stale office coffee, while they parse down all the incoming data and weather models, so that they can come up with some simple scripts for the weatherbabe in the fancy studio downstairs to explain about the weather in her tight dress and super high heels.
That’s the truth. There was only one weatherman when I was growing up...Clyde Wilson “Cloudy” McClain Jr. (Of course, we only had two channels on TV, LOL.) He died young...61...but he’ll long be remembered after these new “weather babes” frontal occlusions are drooping to their waist.
There’s actually a male weatherman on one of the local news channels. He lives in the neighborhood across the road from our neighborhood. We had a craft sales event at the clubhouse parking lot and his wife was involved. It was a nasty day and she was communicating with hubby to keep us abreast of an incoming storm. It all worked out, but it was funny having our very own professional weatherman.
Here we have a weather witch.
Hooked nose and chin, but always well groomed, well dressed, well spoken, and very personable and liked by those around her.
Were I a younger man, I'd say definite marriage material!