Seems like after 4.5 billion years the planet would have run through all the possible meteorology by now and wouldn’t be whomping up new weather, but in addition to bomb cyclones and atmospheric rivers, we now have megaflashes. If they discover a Great Red Spot around here it’s not going to come as a surprise to me.
Unlike the ordinary mannerly lightning that comes to ground and fries the occasional golfer, megaflashes are gigantic masses of horizontal lightning that travel orgiastically across the sky for great distances and for significant lengths of time. For instance, a 477.2 (point two!)-mile lightning megaflash was recently recorded stretching from Texas to Mississippi. God as usual could not be reached for comment and his intent remains a matter of speculation, but these things generally occur in the red states.
They also generally occur at night. The proximate cause of these massive platters of lightning is a pair of weather satellites, GOES East and GOES West. Prior to their launching, the events were nearly unknown. If lightning lit up the skies over Thackerville, Oklahoma and concurrently in Burlington, Kansas, an event which has not been hypothetical since October 13, 2017, nobody really put it together. But now, thanks to new geomenopausal detection systems, we can.
The phenomenon is significant even in areas not directly affected by the nocturnal megaflashes. For instance, in the Oklahoma/Kansas event, Arkansas was a little leery of setting anyone off, and neighboring Missouri didn’t get any sleep at all.
The Thackerville event was described as being four times larger than the state of Connecticut, a helpful analogy for those whose only acquaintance with the Plains states is from 30,000 feet up while watching Shrek on a tiny screen. It sounds impressive, but Connecticut is an itty bitty state. They might equally well have said it was 4/5ths the size of West Virginia, but that is problematic. Connecticut is nearly rectangular and its square miles stay more or less square, whereas West Virginia’s are squiggly. Moreover, we’ll need an extra satellite to keep up with the area of West Virginia since they keep lopping off their mountaintops in order to get at a month’s worth of coal and poison their water for all time. Really, in square mileage as well as in Congressional representation, beautiful West By-God Virginia is more of a cautionary tale.
We might equally well describe this megaflash as being zero-point-eight percent of Alaska but that just makes it sound pitiful. Alaska probably loses track of that much territory in earthquakes every month. And has Northern Lights besides. Alaska spits on your lightning storms.
What is true is that these megaflashes have been breaking records ever since records were kept, which is a little under six years.
Thunderstorm experts warn that any time you hear thunder, you should get inside, or stay in your car, hovering near the gearshift, and don’t touch anything, not even yourself, which is good advice anyway in polite society. Specifically, they caution that lightning can appear to come out of the blue, ten miles distant from any observable storm, and incinerate you where you stand. Now that we know one lightning event can encompass nearly five hundred miles, the protocol is: if it’s thundering in Alabama, pop indoors in Tennessee.
There’s no good reason not to expect these things to get ever larger and more homicidal due to climate change, but there is cause for optimism. Evidently the number of people who have died from lightning strikes has averaged 27 per year for the last ten years, compared with 43 per year for the last thirty.
Of course, this is because everybody’s already indoors. On their phones. In their pajamas.
…Or we’re inside, cowering under our beds with a bottle of booze because — besides all the other shit we’re apparently supposed to panic about — now we have to panic about being struck by lightning from a hundred miles away. Y’know what? Bring it on Lightning! My panic dance card is full, and I’m starting not to care anymore.
You know what? You DO get used to a certain amount of dread.
Oh no, a new enemy waiting to turn me to toast. Kind of hard to defend against what is happening in Oklahoma while riding my mower in Arkansas. Guess I’ll have to take my chances. I do like that the overall numbers are down. I’ll go with that.
I think you’re fine on the mower as long as you’re hovering above the seat. Hands off that steering wheel too, little missy!
I always thought a mega flash was something that happened once in a while if you did A LOT of acid back then. Heck, I wonder if a person could even FIND some purple microdot anymore? You know, for fresh mega flashes.
Mega flashes mean something totally different to a “woman of a certain age.” Fortunately, mine were like my mom’s were: hardly noticeable. My neighbor, the same age as I am, ONOH, wears tank tops in the middle of winter, because she’s always hot, whereas her partner wears layers even in nice weather because he’s “chilly.” Guess who gets to control the thermostat?
My father had to take Lupron during his later years. I would be talking to him and noticed that he was beginning to turn red and droplets would form on his head and face within a minute or two. It didn’t look fun at all.
In your neighbor’s case there is no doubt about who controls the thermostat. Was there ever?
My husband was always hot and I was cold. Along came the menopause and I was hot too. Oh joy oh rapture. Then about two weeks later he was cold. Resumption of the thermostat wars.
I know! The women I know feel quite comfortable with a lower thermostat in the winter, with just a warm sweater over their regular clothes. The men I know dress like they’re going on an expedition to the Yukon. Paul even wears wool fingerless gloves around the house, as well as merino wool underlayers and a hoodie — even to bed. I would love to know how and why this dynamic happens.
What’s a thermostat? Kidding. But I mostly leave it alone. It’s about 47 in the bedroom and the rest of upstairs, all the way up to about 60 elsewhere. Dave, who USED to be a furnace, would like it warmer. PUT A SWEATER ON, I say, because my parents Yet Live on.
“God as usual could not be reached for comment.” Haha!! Love it–what I DON’T love is this nightmarish phenomenon and Murr aren’t you the one who put the fear of undersea creatures back into many of us with some sort of shark?? Yes I’m indoors alright–cowering! PS. As someone who grew up 10 minutes from the border into “Wild n’ Wonderful West Virginia”, boy you sure nailed that state–now if we could just crucify Joe Ma–nevermind
“these things tend to occur in red states.” Could that be God’s comment?
I giggled all through this, ’til the W VA part- too true and not really funny since I had a kid there when American Water got caught. Bottled water ensued until the kid transferred; the pay raise and vastly improved standard of living were nice too.
I’m with the other Mimi who commented above. At this point, there is a certain limit to how much panic one can take on simultaneously. And, as always, the post and comments are all witty! Love your blog, Murr.
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Thanks! We’ve got a good group here all right.
And here I thought a mega-flash was when the whole high-school football team dropped drawers at once.
Seems a particularly vivid memory, Rox.
I hadn’t heard about these Mega-flashes until now. Maybe we don’t yet get them in Australia, where thunder’n’lightning storms are few and far between. A lot of people I know, including me, still stand on our front porches looking for the lightning and enjoying the ozone smell and the rumble and crack of thunder.
I had a lightning bolt strike the middle of the road right near me once long ago when I was walking home after ark having done overtime at work that night. Probably only three metres from me, but didn’t scare me a bit. I was probably too tired to think more than “Huh, look at that.”
Three METERS? At least that’s farther than three yards. And BTW that was too much overtime.
“dark” not ark.
At least on my page there’s an “edit” function next to the “reply” function if you’re a purist–but I’ve heard not everybody has it. Beats the hell out of me.
I love lightning storms and have always enjoyed watching the skies (from a relatively safe place). One morning as I was making my tea, ball lightning appeared over my stove. I was transfixed. It floated gently for several seconds and then shrunk and popped out. Perhaps a gentle baby sister to a mega flash.
My father told me about watching ball lightning come in one window, roll along the floor, and out the other window. If it hadn’t been my dad, I would’ve thought he was kidding. Now I WANT TO SEE THIS.
Is god a he? Thought god was a she.
Kind of a moot point, innit? Fictional characters can be anything one wants.
I default to the Old School English habit of using “he” for anyone partly because I’m a bit of a reactionary when it comes to being herded into new locutions. I know, I know, what a rebel.
Mimimanderly-R’amen!