Fuck, Marry, Kill: Jim Cantore Severe Weather Edition


In the days before the internet, plucky frontierspeople had a folk wisdom way of telling when a big storm was a-coming — animals behaved strangely, the wind would pick up a spooky chill, and The Weather Channel’s Jim Cantore would appear, striding, like a hairless, sentient, be-slickered penis into your town. And since today, many New Yorkers and other East Coast dwellers are holed up in their homes making jokes about the hurricane and secretly hoping it’s awesome enough to keep offices closed but not awesome enough to rip the Statue of Liberty’s arm off, we’re going to celebrate being weatherbound by playing an absurdist game of Fuck, Marry, Kill — this time, with three famous moments from a guy who has become famous for getting visibly excited by severe weather. I hope you’re ready for a triple dose of Cantore magic.

For the uninitiated, the rules of Fuck, Marry, Kill are simple. If you play, you must engage in a fucking, a marriage, and a kill with the three contestants in the game. You must choose one option for each entry, and you cannot reuse one selection for all three contestants. And there’s no getting out of it, either. You literally must have sex with Jim Cantore during the middle of the Thundersnow if you select Thundersnow Cantore for “Fuck.” Fuck, Marry, Kill is a legally binding contract. Please take this as seriously as Jim Cantore takes severe weather.

Hurricane Isaac Cantore

The case for fuck: During this summer’s storm, which killed dozens of people from the Caribbean to the Gulf Coast of the US, Jim Cantore was there to stand in it and act excited by the weather in a way that bordered on sexual. Wouldn’t be surprised if that rain slicker was disguising a Category 5 erection.
The case for marry: This clip of Cantore and Al Roker, in the words of Jessica, “learning how to love,” shows that a union with Cantore would mean lots of time standing out in driving wind and rain, sure, but you’ll be standing in driving wind and rain with a guy who knows how you should best position your foot so that you don’t fall down go boom. Look how tender he is with Al Roker.
The case for kill: Isaac hit New Orleans seven years to the day after Hurricane Katrina. How about we leave the tragedy exploitation to politicians?
Verdict: Marry.

Thundersnow Cantore

The case for fuck: Listen to that enthusiasm! A sexual partner with Jim Cantore In The Thundersnow levels of enthusiasm for whatever it is you’re doing can only do well for your self esteem. On the other hand, being with a guy who shouts “OH MY GOD! WOULDJA LOOK AT THAT! HO-LY SMOKE!” every time you take your bra off could get irritating.
The case for marry: Communication is the key to a successful union, says the back of books written by sassy female therapists with pageboys, primary colored blazers, porcelain veneers, and confidently crossed arms. And this version of Jim Cantore holds nothing back. That’s the sort of openness a lady needs in a long term partner.
The case for kill: Seriously, that’s enough yelling, bro. You’ve been a weather reporter for like a jillion years and I’m sure you’ve heard thunder before. You’re faking it. FAKING IT.
Verdict: Fuck. What can I say? Lots of ladies like ’em loud.

Packing for Hurricane Irene Cantore

The case for fuck: Um, muscles? In this video, Jim Cantore demonstrates that his neck has gone into J. D. Salinger-style hiding.
The case for marry: Well. The man appears to own a home, so he’s not going to try to steal your money.
The case for kill: EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS VIDEO. A closet full of storm supplies? Hurricane Katrina sandals? The “Ladies, you know about shoe packing!” comment? The unexplained twin bed with a pink bedspread and a Spongebob Squarepants plush toy in the background?
Verdict: Kill. OMG Kill.

Seriously, though, don’t kill Jim Cantore, even if he tries to take you on a tour of his hurricane supply closet on your first date. America needs him to stand in the middle of things and get rained on.

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