
Vance VanPuffelen
Today we were overjoyed to finally get news from Vance in the form of an email.
I write to you all today in an effort to dispel any myths and to set the record straight regarding my whereabouts following the premeire of the White Rod Documentary. It is true that after the show aired, TV32 cancelled my contract as meteorologist. And because I had signed a No-Compete clause, I was no longer able to work in television. I had trouble adjusting to life without Doppler radar. I became catatonic at the mere sighting of a cirrus cloud. And upon encountering a cumulo-nimbus I became the latest victim of erectile dysfunction. Damn those puffy clouds!
I decided a change of scenery would do some good. So I sold my collection of ice cream baseball helmets and bought a one-way ticket to meet Tatyana, my new Russian bride. Upon arriving, I set off for the town of Nikolaev in the Ukraine. Two hours into the taxi ride, I began to notice that we were driving in a big circle. I was sure that Russia didn't have more McDonalds than we did, and mentioned this to the driver. He began swearing at me, which sounded a lot like the greeting he gave me at the airport. He then drove me into a barn where I was waylaid by two dozen armed men. They smelled real bad. They informed me that they were Chechens and I was now an enlist in their rebel army. That was 5 years ago.
I've since adjusted to life as a Chechen rebel. The guys are pretty cool and they don't smell so bad anymore. And, with their help, I slowly have been able to gain my confidence back as a meteorologist. Following our capture of a television station in the republic of Stavropol Krai, I was able to acquire my own doppler radar. It took a while to roll it back to the barn, but it was worth it. My official title is Chechen Weather Expert. The American Meteorological Society and the National Weather Service refuse to certify me. Fuck them, I'm in Chechnya!
So before going out to fight for independence, the rebels all gather around for my morning weather report. That way they know what to expect, and whether they'll need an extra goatskin or not. And as for those cumulo-nimbus clouds? Well, let's just say I'm swingin' for the fence again.
Sincerely,
Vance Van Puffelen
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