Marlins and Dolphins and Heat, Oh My!

I'm not a meteorologist by any standards; when it comes to the weather, I am rarely right and awful often. I can't remember a time in the last six years when it has rained and I have actually had an umbrella. And judging from my efforts at Spring Break in Miami, I have no clue about how intense the sun will be on any given day (my poor skin). I wear shorts when it's 40 out, and wear sweaters on Casual Friday in June. Even my word association is skewed. You say Storm, I think X-Men. You say Hail, I say "to the Chief." You say Hurricane, I say Rod Brind'Amour.

But I do know one thing: there is a Category 4 hurricane headed for the state of Florida, and it could be making landfall as you read this. (If you are in Florida, I appreciate the readership, really I do, but get the heck out of there. These are times that try men's weatherproof siding.) It is supposed to be more brutal than Charley, and could really cause some substantial damage (Worse than Bowa to the Phillies). I'm sure the Floridians were sitting days ago in their hammocks and Adirondack chairs just thinking, "Why worry? The NWS didn't even give this one a tough name! I'll leave when we're being warned of Hurricane Brutus or Rex or Wolf Blitzer." But Frances?

Words of wisdom: Don't screw with Frances.

I did my pseudometeorological research this morning, and I'm sorry to say, it doesn't look good for the Sunshine State. (By reseach, I meant I looked up natural disaster movies.) The most devastating natural disaster in history was not at Pompeii, it wasn't on the Ring of Fire, and it wasn't in Japan.

It was in Kansas.

Back in 1937, a massive tornado hit the hometown of Dorothy Gale with power previously unimaginable. It did the standard textbook damage to this farming community: tore the roof off of a barn, sent bicycles airborne, did fatal damage to the few trees in the area. Only the most powerful tornadoes lift houses off the ground to swirl them in the air, and this one did just that. But what sets it apart, tilting the scales of destruction in its favor was then when it put its uprooted houses back on the ground, they were put in a completely different land. Oz.

Like Seabiscuit, Remember the Titans, and PCU, so many movies in cinema history have been based on true stories. For one, it makes a movie more impressive because the story has such a real basis behind it. Secondly, it's no secret people these days love reality in any visual media. Well, in 1939, MGM took the time to take this 1937 tornado, in all of its horror and charm, and put it to the silver screen, compete with talking scarecrows, flying monkeys, and tacky shoes. They followed the history books to the letter, and it has since been regarded as one of the best movies in history.

Condon, what does this have to do with Florida?

The actress cast to play real-life woman Dorothy Gale was none other than the multitalented Judy Garland. She was a perfect fit for the role, since her impression of real-life Dorothy Gale was dead-on. Of course, at this time in Hollywood, no one went by their given name. Stage names were created to give actors a name that would look good in lights. Cary Grant was born Archibald Leach. Mae West was born Jane Mast. Spencer Tracy was born Dick Tracy. Judy Garland was no exception, and from this obscure clue do we realize that the Tornado of '37 will predict the severity of damage Florida should expect this weekend. Ms. Garland's real last name: Gumm. First name:

Frances.

Toto, I don't think we're in Tampa anymore.