Went to bed at 11 p.m., with the idea of getting up around 4 a.m. to check out the haughty action of Hurricane Irene as it allegedly begins gritting its teeth in New York City. Nothing to see. I stepped outside and made a quick loop around Brooklyn Heights. It's raining. It's breezy. No water standing, nothing in the least out of the ordinary.
I'm beginning to wonder if newscasters are getting a bonu$ every time they use melodramatic superlatives. Every channel—local and national—is still treating this story as if it's the second coming. And the persistent yammering about "tornadic activity" is becoming giggly. Hype much?
Latest reports: 4" of rain in Central Park, "dangerous winds" into the afternoon. By 8 p.m. tonight, the sun'll come out and everyone in New York will be wondering whatever happened to "The Great Hurricane of 2011." It's an insult to the areas of the East Coast that sustained real damage.