CHICAGO (SNARKY) -- As a weatherman here in Chicago with its notoriously unpredictable climate, Tom Skilling expects to take his lumps along the way. That is, of course, assuming that he possesses the mental fortitude to be so circumspect. Judging from that dopey smile and his "aw shucks" demeanor though, I'm not so sure about that.His forecasts are foolishly optimistic and I take them with a grain of salt while typically wishing him great bodily harm. Especially now that he's ruined two of my suede jackets with his off-the-mark precipitation guesses, err, I mean predictions.
As the chief meteorologist at WGN and a tie in over at the Tribune, Skilling is one of the best known weathermen in the land, David Letterman notwithstanding. But his gaffes and buffoonery are wearing a little thin; thinner than that head of hair of his.
That's why I celebrate the trial of his brother, Jeffrey Skilling. Yes, that Jeffrey, the one of Enron fame because it sullies Tom even more. As if the unctuousness of his brother has washed over the weatherman like an oily rain.
I've just had an epiphany: I need Tom Skilling in my life. I need an antagonist to set myself against; someone pseudo-real but not real real, someone omnipresent but in a negative sense; someone who is my complete opposite, so different from me that he causes friction, my foil.
And that's why I continue to check his forecasts everyday.
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