If they can’t get Tuesday right, why should I trust them about anything?
Last Tuesday, the weather forecast was wrong again. They said there was an 80% chance of rain. I checked three different apps. I watched the local news. I even looked at that fancy radar thing where the green blobs move across the screen. Everyone agreed: rain was coming.
So I canceled my golf game. I moved my wife’s car into the garage. I brought in the patio cushions. I was prepared.
It didn’t rain. Not a drop. Not even a cloud, really. Just pure sunshine all day while I sat inside like an idiot watching my neighbor Doug wash his car in the driveway.
The Weather Forecast Wrong—And So Is Everything Else
Now here’s what gets me. These are supposed to be the experts. They have satellites. They have supercomputers. They have those little weather stations that cost more than my first truck. And they can’t tell me if it’s going to rain in twelve hours?
But somehow I’m supposed to trust other experts about things that are way more complicated than rain. Things you can’t even see. Things that happen over years, not hours. Call me crazy, but if you can’t predict water falling from the sky, maybe—just maybe—you don’t have everything else figured out either.
I mentioned this to my brother-in-law, who teaches high school science. He said, “That’s not how any of this works.” Then he tried to explain something about chaos theory and butterfly effects. You know what I heard? Excuses. That’s what I heard. Fancy excuses dressed up in math.
Following The Money
Furthermore, think about who benefits when the weather forecast is wrong. Umbrella companies. Raincoat manufacturers. The people who sell those overpriced weather apps. Not to mention the news channels that keep you watching through the commercial break to find out if you need a jacket.
I’m not saying it’s a conspiracy. I’m saying it’s interesting. I’ve done my own research, and the same pattern keeps showing up: experts get things wrong, nobody holds them accountable, and regular people like me are left standing in our driveways holding umbrellas under a clear blue sky.
Trust Your Gut, Not The Forecast
You know what’s never wrong? My knee. Thirty years of living in this body, and my knee knows when rain is coming better than any satellite. It aches. It always aches before rain. Last Tuesday? Nothing. My knee knew. The experts didn’t.
I’ve decided to stop checking the forecast altogether. From now on, I’m going with what I feel. If my knee says rain, I’ll bring an umbrella. If some guy on TV says rain, I’ll assume the opposite.
Doug’s car looked great, by the way. Really shiny. I watched him wash it for forty-five minutes. Could have been out there myself. But no. I trusted the experts.
Never again. From now on, I trust my knee, my gut, and my own two eyes. The experts have their satellites and their supercomputers and their chaos butterflies. I have something better: common sense. And I’m full of it.
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