The real reason why hurricanes are deadlier than himmicanes

According to a report published by the University of Illinois in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, Atlantic hurricanes with female names are far more deadly than male-named hurricanes.

The researchers are quick to provide a reason for their sexist findings that will keep their scientific eyes from being scratched out. Female hurricanes, they say, are perceived by the public as less threatening, so people are less-prepared. Nobody would doubt that Hurricane Max could kick your butt, they theorize, but Hurricane Mildred? Meh. How hard a punch could a chick-storm deliver?

Go ahead, wail about the rampant sexism of U of I researchers. It won’t do any good, because they’ve got statistics on their side.

But still, though, they probably have plenty of numbers to back up their claim that female hurricanes cause more deaths than male hurricanes do, it’s hard to swallow their logic that people spend less energy preparing for a hurricane’s arrival just because it lacks a Y chromosome.

I would think that the opposite would be true.

After all, whenever I tell my wife that Bill and Mike are going to stop by, there’s no cause for alarm. Six pairs of shoes sit in a jumble by the door; a sweatshirt, jacket, and three ball caps lounge on the chair; a smattering of grass clippings litters the living room floor. No problem. It’s only Bill and Mike.

But the mere mention that Margaret is on her way, and the house is a perfect storm of preparation. Is that old macaroni and cheese still in the fridge from last week? These windows are a disgrace. When was the last time we dusted the top of the floor molding and ceiling fan blades?

Because there’s a woman on the way, and there will be hell to pay if she makes landfall before the house has been buttoned down to my wife’s complete satisfaction.

So I think it’s disingenuous to blame the victims for not giving female hurricanes enough r-e-s-p-e-c-t. It doesn’t have anything to do with preparation.

I think it has to do with the hurricanes themselves.

After all, think of all those deadly she-storms that have made history. Donna in 1960, roaring through Naples and Fort Myers. Katrina in ’05, blasting New Orleans. Sandy in 2012, leveling Atlantic City. What would cause female hurricanes to head straight for those centers of civilization?

Do you really think it’s a coincidence that all those cities are known for great shopping?

By contrast, consider some of the less-famous male-maelstroms in recent history. Earl and Otto, both in 2010. Omar in 2008.

None of these male hurricanes, though powerful, caused anywhere near as much damage or loss of life as their female counterparts.

And why?

Because, unlike those lady storms, they didn’t head straight for the mall. No, they set their sights just where you would expect a healthy male hurricane to target.

The Virgin Islands.

Oh, you won’t read that interpretation in the University of Illinois gender study of destructive hurricanes. Research scientists have a hard enough time getting chicks without spouting cold, hard facts like that.

And so they do what any sensible scientist would do in hopes of ever getting a date on a Friday night.

They blame the damage on the rest of us.

“You just don’t prepare properly for a hurricane with a female name,” they tell us. “You macho meat-heads think that only a male tornado can pack a wallop. You don’t have enough respect for storms of the female variety.”

As if sensitive talk like that might improve their chances of an actual female warming up to them enough to slide their glasses from their nose and slip that pencil protector from their shirt pocket before delivering a long, lingering kiss.

Yeah, right. Fat chance of that ever happening.

Look, let’s just stop making excuses for those deadly female hurricanes. That’s just the way they are, and if you want to blame anybody other than the storm, blame whoever it is that determines the storm’s gender and gives it a name in the first place.

I don’t know why people go to the bother of giving names to things, and then act surprised when the thing lives up to its name. A name has power. A name changes things. If you name a hurricane after a woman, stop making excuses when it has a bad hail day.

After all, look at the names we gave to all those planets if you don’t believe me. We started out with good, solid names for the first ones we found—Mars, Venus, Saturn, Jupiter—and they have all lived up to their name. They are beautiful, steadfast and powerful, just like the gods and goddesses they were named for centuries ago.

But then we got cute. We named one tiny late-discovered planet after a silly Disney cartoon character, and what does it do? It resigns its commission as a planet and walks off the job faster than an Alaskan governor. Well, that’s just the kind of silly behavior you would expect from a cartoon character, isn’t it?

Anyway, the hurricane season is just starting. Only time will tell if the ladies will be as deadly as they have been in the past.

In any case, whether the hurricane bearing down on you is a guy or a gal, it’s best to be prepared and to have a plan.

Me? I’m steering clear of the mall.

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