Talk about an “isolated thunderstorm”, we had a storm almost perfectly split the Mandalay and Hard Rock like a football through the uprights. It sat over the edge of the airport for a good ten minutes, just hanging out and taunting the pilots.

There was lightning, there was thunder, there was wind, and it looked like the world’s largest funnel cloud.

Despite it all, aircrafts lifted off from McCarran straight through the thing every 30 seconds.

I think the pilots took it as some kind of challenge or something.

Pilot: “Hey Fred, twenty bucks says I can fly through this thing with only minor fuselage damage.”

Co-Pilot: “You’re on, now give me another swig of the Jack and fire up that blunt … I need something to calm my nerves.”

If I was a passenger, I would have been unhappy.

I would have asked to wait the extra 15 minutes for the storm to move somewhere over the Bellagio (which it eventually did).

What can I tell you … I don’t like to change my underwear shortly after takeoff … I’m weird like that.

Anyway, monsoon season has provided some of the best visuals in this town I have seen in a long time. I got to watch downpours and lightning shows in other cities, from the dry comfort of my own neighborhood. I would stand and applaud when a particularly large bolt would ignite over Henderson or Summerlin.

There is nothing like living vicariously and watching as god tries to annihilate Henderson with a billion volts of electricity. Over the past few days, they seem to have gotten the worst of it.

And I think this really does vindicate me again. If I learned anything over the past week, it is that god hates Henderson too.

And really, can you blame him?

Even he thinks The District is lame.

The useless local “meteorologists” gave us a 20% chance of rain every day for the past week, which means as usual, they were right when it rained, and they were right when it didn’t rain.

I really want one of those swell jobs.

I’d clock in at 7am, throw “20% chance of rain on the board”, clock out at 7:05am, and go home and surf porn.

“Las Vegas weatherman” really is the perfect job.

And most of our “meteor people” are dudes, so we don’t even get to ogle women with huge knockers as they state the obvious (”maybe it will rain, maybe not”).

The whole thing is an unfortunate tragedy.

Anyway, it’s all blowing over, and we should be back to 106 tomorrow.

And you know what that means!

Wear something flimsy ladies, and if you see me around town, don’t be shy … lift up that top and show me (and all of our readers) what you’ve got.