Hurricane season started on June 1, although many hurricane experts predict that 2026 will be "below normal" in terms of the number of named hurricanes and major hurricanes. These are real experts, by the way, not some Facebook fraud.
That doesn’t mean hurricanes won’t happen, it just means we’ll have fewer of them. And it doesn’t mean that climate change is not as bad as we thought, or that everything is all better. It’s still terrible and only getting worse.
It still means the U.S. will experience many severe storms between now and November 30. It means we’re going to see a lot of rainfall, fallen trees, and flooding. And we’ll see a lot of people drive through flooded stretches of road, only to stall out and have to be rescued.
It happens every time we have a major storm. Water floods a road so deeply, there’s a little old man building a boat, with a bunch of animals standing around nearby. And then someone in a car or truck that’s compensating for something tries driving through it, except it stalls out and just sits there, like a monument to their own idiocy. Or worse, it gets swept away as the person sits on the roof, wondering where in life they went wrong.
Now, I’ll admit to having done this on my bike, but I have a valid excuse: I was a teenager, and thus, very stupid. The water was so deep, it rose over the crankshaft of the bike as I pedaled, so I took it to my bike shop afterward because it was making funny noises. Water poured out when I opened the bottom bracket, and a fish fell out.
To prevent flooded vehicles and needless deaths after a storm, police put out giant signs that say "Caution Flooding Ahead," or "Do Not Enter When Flooded," or "What Are You, An Idiot?"
But nowadays, people think facts are a matter of opinion, science is a lie, and warnings are fake news; they believe the flood warnings are a misinformation campaign that the Deep State doesn’t want you to know. So they drive into the flood because it’s not that deep, and that sign is for the sheeple, and if things get bad, they can just put some Ivermectin in the gas tank.
As the water creeps higher and rushes into the car, common sense screams at them to turn back because it’s going to get worse before it gets better, except they don’t. And their final thoughts as they’re swept away are, "Oh, look! It’s the consequences of my own actions."
You’d think we would know better. That while we can argue and politicize anything, there are a few things we should agree on: Don’t run in the middle of the interstate. Don’t eat things that are on fire. Don’t pet rabid dogs. And don’t drive past flood warning signs.
But humans are going to human, and every year, we’re going to hear about some moron who thought he — because it’s always a he — shouted, "No sign can tell me how to live!" and plowed ahead until his car flooded and died. And maybe he did, too.
It happened in Wisconsin last month, only this time, it was cement and not water.
Into fresh concrete.
Imagine the scene: It’s a clear spring day in southeast Wisconsin. There’s a 30-yard stretch of road with newly-poured concrete, and a sign blocking it off. It wasn’t just a patch job; it was an entire stretch of road covered in concrete.
Imagine the guy: He’s driving in his truck, imagining himself beating a bear in a fight, when he sees the Road Closed sign and says, "Idiots, I don’t see any water. Fake news!"
So he gets out of his truck, moves the sign, and drives forward. And as he starts sinking, he thinks to himself, "It’s only 27 more yards to go. How bad could it be?"
His wheels were almost completely covered, the truck came to a stop, and he had to be pulled out by heavy equipment. There’s a video of it on YouTube.
But remember, when it comes to traffic signs, local folks usually know what they’re doing. City planners have to move the largest number of the dumbest people through the roads without causing traffic hazards. They won’t close off a road unless there’s no better option.
So when a sign tells you a road is closed or there’s a flood ahead, heed the warning. Turn around and go the other way. Because there are some things — well, a lot of things — that Ivermectin can’t fix.
Photo credit: Wisconsin Department of Transportation
My new humor novel, Mackinac Island Nation, is finished and available from 4 Horsemen Publications. You can get the ebook and print versions here.