A study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences has found that hurricanes named after women have historically killed more people than those named after men because, apparently, people don’t consider the female-named hurricanes to be as dangerous or worth taking the necessary precautions. [source]
People are obviously stupid. And this isn’t just men – men and women alike have categorically treated female-named hurricanes with less respect and regard. Here are my solutions to this obviously dangerous problem:
Five Ways To Name Hurricanes So That People Properly Respect And Fear Them:
We can name them after . . .
- Black people. Imagine how prepared Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas would be for Hurricane Obama. They’d just refuse to accept all of the rain and wind. If people will cross the street to avoid a black teenager, they’ll board the shit out of some windows for Hurricane Trayvon.
- Terrible visual images. Just think about a newscaster talking about Category Four Hurricane Skullfucking Deathmobile heading towards Louisiana. Or Hurricane Sharp Thing Pointing Awfully Close To Your Eyeball?
- Women, but done the right way. Instead of naming hurricanes after women, just add “On Her Period” to the end of it. It’ll work. People will take plenty of precautions for Hurricane Angel On Her Period or Hurricane Deanna On Her Period.
- Trends in the news. If we focused on whatever terrifying story the media is hyping up to kill us all, and used keywords to name hurricanes, the American people would not only be prepared, they’d be overprepared to the point of absurdity. There wouldn’t be a board left at Home Depot if Hurricane Killer Bees From Africa or Hurricane Lyme Disease or Hurricane Vaccines Cause Autism headed toward our homes.
- All four ways put together. I don’t know about you, but if I saw that Hurricane Zinquisha On Her Period Who Killed Her Children And Cut Off Her Husband’s Penis with a Butter Knife was coming to Orlando, I’d fucking move to Alaska.
I don’t care how a hurricane is named. I always prepare the same way – plenty of bacon, hookers, and vodka, hunkered down in my murder basement. That’s respect.