NOVEMBER 30, 1996. 3:44PM
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The Authorities predicted rain for tonight.
I should call to report the drop of rain that just landed on my right cheek. I should call The Authorities, and say "Hello? Hello? Is this the Weather Department? Is it you who predicted rain for today? Well, I just wanted to report that a drop of rain hit my right cheek as I crossed the intersection of 1st Avenue of 78th Street. Yes, in New York City. Yes! I thought you would want to know. "I was walking East, toward the East River, and it hit me at approximately 3:15pm. I wanted to be sure you knew, so that you could compare your predictions against what happened, and make adjustments to your predicting mechanisms as necessary. "There was only one drop. Yes, I am sure it was rain. Positive. Yes, positive. I, too, thought that it might have been a stray drop of condensation from a near-by apartment building, but I was right in the middle of the street. Oh, I suppose it could have been that, or spit or pee or whatever other fluid New Yorkers are liable to squirt from rooftops. But considering your predictions of rain today, and the fact that this is today, I thought you should know. Thanks." That would be the right thing for me to do. The Authorities also predict a mean, bitch of a winter, cold as an unanswered phone call with more snow than a pack of lies. I am ready for the winter, but not so sure about tonight. Buy beer? Nah. Go out to a bar and meet gorgeous, sexually malcontent alcoholic college women? Nah.
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Predictions |