There's a crying need for two weather reports—one for the city and another for everywhere else. It's painful to see the sadness on the city reporters' faces when they talk about a sky that isn't blue as a plastic toy. They must be Prius people.
(How many forests does it take to run one of those multi-full-page Prius ads, "You're the kind of person who will recycle this paper" ? I can't estimate but I did meet a Prius person once, who was trying to kick the habit of driving everywhere all the time, till the Prius purchase. The other car in the family? A red slash that goes from 0 to 2000 in a z' of a microsec, consumes as much as a public servant on a fact-finding trip abroad, and is as joyously obnoxious as a jet engine being played with on the other side of your bedroom wall. The Prius people mantra: "Plug in. Tune out." They certainly manage to turn off.)
But back to the more narrow topic of, not myopia, tunnel vision, or hot air, but air unburdened by moisture.
Out here, we're so parched that I was going to take a picture of the Big Dry for you, but when I took my camera out, I found that the drought had dried up my inspiration.