Innsmouth. Infamed in story and song. Bordered to the west by marshlands, to the east by cliffs, tracing a semi-circle around a dank and squamous harbor where abandoned fishing boats bob in the perpetual misting rain not taking fish for fear of what they'd find. It is a town of lore, at once ancient and brand new. It didn't exist until yesterday; today it has been here aeons. Not the sort of place for one such as me.

But if the mountain won't come to Mohammad...

(see link for the rest of the story)

Lewis Black:

"The weather in this country is completely out of control and nobody seems to care about it. I knew we were in trouble 12 years ago when I was in Boston, MA and in 4 days in February, I experienced 5 seasons. It was 30, it was 60, it was 90 and it was 12. And on the last day, there was thunder, lightning and snow together. And I had not done drugs.

Cause when you're lying in bed, you hear thunder outside, and you get up to look, you have an expectation. And it's not snow with lightning behind it. That's not right.

They don't even write about that kind of weather in the bible! And I imagine if a prophet had seen that kind of weather, after he wiped the poop out of his pants, he'd have told us about it. I was supposed to work that night, I said I'm not coming in. I'm scared to death, cause I know what the next season's going to be....locusts.

And there will come a time mark my words where there will be a season of great big giant frogs that fall from the sky. You'll be watching Willard Scott on the Today show. What a scary fellow he is. He smiles so much I don't think he has a central nervous system. And he'll be standing in front of the Washington Monument dressed like a Chipmunk and frogs will be bouncing off his head. And he'll be going 'giant frogs, giant frogs, what can I say, back to you.'"