I know this sounds insensitive at a time like this, but I could never bring myself to fear a hurricane with a name like Rita or Katrina. To really get me wetting myself with terror it'd have to be something tough. Like, er, Hurricane Hulk:
Rrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!
Seriously. These names and categories are too bland and non-descript to warrant a real bed-wetting experience. Imagine - you're sitting at home in Galveston, watching the news, and some official in a bad suit appears in front of a big map with a swirly thing on it: 'Ah, well, we have a category, ah, 5 hurricane heading toward us. We're calling it, ah, Rita.'
You'd just flip back to your stories and give lip service to the idea of putting up storm windows. Now, if the same guy had come on a screamed into the camera: 'People, Hulk is on the way! Repeat, Hulk is on the way! He's a category Godzilla hurricane, he's headed straight for your house, and he looks pissed!'
Fuck, you wouldn't even stop to put your pants back on. There'd be a column of dust stretching to the horizon framed by a person-shaped hole in your wall.
On the other hand, a light rainstorm might be called Gene or something. Hell, I'm called Keith. I'd be drizzle.
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