Any spider that has challenged me or my family by encroaching upon my territory have fallen to my stern but fair border policies. If I, my wife, or my dog find a spider in our apartment, it will die. This is not because I’m anti-spider, I understand and accept their role in our shared ecosystem, it’s simply the fact that they scare the hell out of me. For this reason, they must be crushed under a tissue, or sometimes my Windows 7 disc case that has been on my desk for years.
Either way, if they are spotted, they will not last long. My authoritarian stance on illegal spiders within my domicile doesn’t mean I’m this gruff, manly executioner. Quite the opposite. I’m usually screaming and whining while I feel the crunch of the spider underneath my pressure. It’s all quite pathetic, much like this weatherman, who can’t help but scream like a banshee left alone by its parents with the Ghostbusters (original or newfangled) on the hunt when he sees a spider on his screen.
This isn’t the first time a weatherperson has lost their cool over an arachnid appearing on their screen. In 2013, a meteorologist freaked out when a spider crawled across their report. In general, it seems like meteorologists are afraid of spiders. Maybe this is a cliché in the weatherman subculture?