It snowed yesterday. Hardly an out-of-the-ordinary event in southeast Michigan; it wasn’t even that bad a storm. Having shoveled the sidewalk, I’d say we got, oh, five or six inches.
But even in a latitude accustomed to this sort of thing, a snowfall like this is a nuisance. Predictably so — commutes lengthen, school and other events are cancelled. It happens.
So last night, we watched the local Detroit news. First story: Snow. Second story: Snow. Third story: Snow. (Yes, friends, it was a “team coverage” event!) Next story: Snow. Then the weather report: Snow. Next story: Snow.
At this point I went to bed. (The reporter was gesturing to the snow at her feet — which the camera operator helpfully tilted down to show us — and saying it “could give drivers trouble.”) Alan reported the ENTIRE REMAINDER OF THE BROADCAST was: Snow.
The new wrinkle seems to be the device reporters are now issued along with their logo-branded jackets — little wooden rulers, like the ones in your desk in fourth grade. They’re occasionally commanded by the anchors to thrust these things into the snow and report how deep it is, so the anchors can then chuckle about being warm and dry in the studio and “Stay warm, Jill!”
The closest we came to anything approaching real news was the hospital angle, when a reporter went to an emergency room and reported people were arriving with injuries from “falls.” (Why they don’t go to dry cleaners in summer thunderstorms to see whether people are bringing their good gabardine suits in with water damage, I don’t know.) A woman wearing a cervical collar on a gurney was interviewed live, to report that it was slippery out there and she did, indeed, fall. “So be careful,” advised the somber reporter. “Back to you!”
Today’s forecast: Bitter cold. I’ll keep you posted.