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I think alot of it is the RPO's that daboll dials up. It was said during the game on Thanksgiving that the bills are not a traditional run team say like the Titans or Pittsburgh is. That helps Josh a lot with defenses having to stay honest and play any possibility, and around, jet sweeps, qb keeper...that offense keeps you guessing.

Slow down. Allen is just ok at this point. The next 3 games will show me a lot about his abilities. I watched the fins game yesterday while switching between the ravens-niners game and when Josh allen can do what ryan Fitzpatrick is doing with really no talent around him making mediocre talent better then I'll look at him differently. I've always laughed at the notion that we needed to surround our quarterback, whoever it was/is with better talent tells me that without better players he wouldn't be successful. The greats, brees, Manning (not Eli), Rodgers, rivers, Brady, Wilson, they make everyone else around them better not the other way around. Those players have had multiple receivers, running backs, tight ends, coordinators etc...and im not a hater just a realist. I think josh is good but not great. Great is reserved for actual greatness over many years of success and managing many scenarios successfully. Then and then you'll know if he's great. And no they are not better than Frisco, new Orleans, Seattle or still the pats...until they beat them when it matters.

Looks like Josh is gonna catch the northern eyewall and may the edge of the eye of Kamurri

Josh Cingranelli on NBC 30 This morning said they’re thinking mostly snow In CT away from the coast Now as the latest guidance is showing colder air..at least that’s their take currently. I’m sure when the lull hits it goes to drizzle/or ZR drizzle if below 32 obviously.

FWIW...something else to look at. Josh Herman initialized his RRWT model yesterday, which is based on reoccurring rosby wave train. It did well early last year until SSW shakeup, struggled after that. 30 days NOV 24-DEC24 90 days NOV 24-FEB22 You East Coast folks will like the look 9f last week of DEC & beginning of JAN DEC 25-29 DEC 30-JAN 3

Let it be noted that Josh M is the owner of the first official "BOOM!" of the 2019/2020 winter season. Marking Nov 3rd as the date. Congrats Josh! You now own the winter. Its on you friend! Only JBurns can remove that curse from you but he wont until he receives at least 1 Big Dog and snow Christmas Eve. So get busy.

From @HurricaneJosh's Twitter (love the term by the way Josh!)

This sent Hurricane Josh to the doctor for priapism.

You and Josh may be interested in this: https://journals.ametsoc.org/doi/pdf/10.1175/2007JCLI1772.1 Discussing return periods for sub-900 mb hurricanes in the United States. "The 1935 Labor Day Florida Keys storm was the most severe in our dataset. With a 265-yr wind speed return period and a 102-yr central pressure return period, it presses the fitted model boundaries. We believe this is due in part to the extreme southern latitude of this landfalling storm. Another storm of this intensity would likely again require a very southern landfalling latitude, with the Florida Keys or the Brownsville, Texas, region being the most likely hosts." Very interesting. That means, according to "return periods", a sub-900 mb U.S. landfall should come around again in about 10-20 years. But I'm also envisioning a Brownsville landfall of a storm of that intensity. I picture a pinhole eyewall on a morning visibile crossing South Padre Island. I can picture Josh now, a big white beard, tweeting from Port Isabel.

Comparing Josh's vid and this Mexico Beach Michael vid, they both in my opinion, show sustained Category 5 winds. The "whiteout" conditions in both storms is very similar to the infamous gas station video in Charlotte Harbor during Hurricane Charley, where the tiny and fast moving eyewall briefly produced sustained Category 4 winds and a gust to Cat 5 within several seconds which destroyed the gas station. The "whiteout" conditions are seen in that video as well, and Charley was 145 mph by the time winds hit Charlotte Harbor. The only thing I disagree with Josh about is that Dorian is the cherry on his hurricane sundae. I think Dorian may just be a thick layer of fudge. Just wait until he's in the eye of the next 1935. (I suspect the winds in the '35 storm were actually stronger than 185 mph, and the motion was about 6 kts in a tiny eye with 892 mb pressure).

Thanks for the objectivity. Greatly respect that. Although some may not realize or appreciate it, my own personal opinion isn't rooted in the fact I was the one who shot the footage at that location in MB. It's all about Michael's intensity and effects...not anything to do with me. It's not like I've been suggesting Dorian didn't produce Cat 5 conditions in Marsh Harbour. Josh's footage, MH's position in the eyewall, and the engineering evaluation by Steer all support Cat 5 conditions occurred at MH. Thanks again for taking the time to objectively review the video, and I hope you have a great rest of the day!

Please read my last post in the main Dorian thread. So excited you were able to get into the eye and core of Dorian, and the same applies to Jim Edds, as well. Very disappointed that James wasn't allowed to get to the Island, himself. Naturally, I'd also liked to have been there, but I've long ago resigned myself to the reality that I'll never be able to chase outside the U.S. (my wife will never allow it). Now, things would be completely different if I missed any Cat 3 or higher landfall in the U.S. To this day, I wish I'd been able to chase Andrew. Unfortunately, my studies were paramount at the time and I have to remind myself of that. Charley is another I regret not chasing in Florida, but work obligations made that impossible. Anyway, I eagerly look forward to documenting the next major hurricane in the U.S., as well as seeing all the footage you capture during your own chase exploits. Have a great rest of the night, Josh!

I'm posting this comment in the banter thread, as I would suspect any convo regarding chasers (more personally) would be more applicable outside the main storm specific thread. That said, I wanted to make it abundantly clear that I was (and am) genuinely excited for Josh to have intercepted the eye and core of Dorian. Unlike some, I don't get jealous of others' chasing success. Why should they? It has no relevancy on their own chase abilities. My wholly scientically objective observation that the winds don't appear to have been any higher in Marsh Harbour than those I happened to observe on the western-most portion of Mexico Beach, shouldn't be taken as somehow an attempt at minimizing the effects on Marsh Harbour. The only relevancy to Josh in such evaluation is simply an objective review of the winds he documented on video. As stated multiple times already, I feel he captured genuine Cat 5 winds on video...which is a VERY rare occurrence. It makes zero difference that I happened to be the one who documented the highest winds in Michael or that Josh happened to be the one documenting Dorian in MH. The only relevancy between the two is that each intercept location experienced the greatest impact from the two storms, respectively. Thus, my own personal interest in knowing what the peak MSW might've been at each specific locality. Given Josh is typically in the core of a major landfalling hurricane at or near ground-zero, I can understand why some might misinterpret my objective analysis of the peak winds that most likely were encountered in that area, and falsely presume I have some stupid ulterior motive or "agenda". Nothing could be further from the truth! Even when some resorted to unjustified personal attacks when I respectfully argued that all the objective scientific data clearly suggested Patricia wasn't a Cat 5 at landfall, I didn't waver on my wholly objective opinion. Subsequently, the NHC agreed with my precise 130 kt estimate. Similar instances occurred in discussion of Michael's landfall intensity. Yet again, my best educated guess (based solely on the objective scientific data) was validated in the NHC TCR. Now, some are taking exception to my objective viewpoint that Marsh Harbour didn't get anywhere close to those one-minute 10 m estimated MSWs. Unlike with Michael, we have a lot less access to all the available data, whereby making a specific best educated estimate of the MSW encountered in MH is far more problematic. That's why I've asked if anyone knows of any additional data that may be available? Regardless, I'm confident that MH saw a MSW of at least 140 kt. I don't personally consider chasing a sport, much less a competition with other chasers. In sequence of events, my initial goal is to either get into the eye or the area of strongest winds from a documentation standpoint. Secondly, record the barometric pressure at that location. Currently in the process of obtaining an anemometer to accurately record wind measurements in future intercepts. Next, to assist with search and rescue following a devastating event...followed by documentation of the aftermath. Lastly, I always have (since Katrina in 2005) and always will devote at least one full day to assisting with the cleanup. This is one thing I wish all chasers would do, and feel we all should do, considering we intentionally place ourselves in these areas of greatest impact and often times benefit from doing so. Regardless of the other ways we help, I still think it's the least we can do...but that's just me. This post is long enough. But, I just simply wanted to share my personal viewpoints on the contents contained herein to help those who might misinterpret them. Thanks for taking the time to read it. Hope all have a great rest of the day!

Josh dropped his vid, holy shit

Won't work for those of us who have either cut the cord or, like me, never had any cable or any other "TV provider". Would love to see Josh's show, but I get turned down with a message saying "your xfinity service does not include this program". I only use them for internet and mobile, which apparently isn't enough.

That eye Wall or Dorian. Strongest ever reported by Josh. 185 sustained ....just a eye Wall of total devestation. Made Andrew look almost weak in comparison (185 to 160) Most of S FL doesn’t realize the bomb they dodged

Our fellow AMWX member Josh Morgerman posted his story of riding out Dorian in Marsh Harbour, Grand Abaco. For those of you that are not on facebook here is what he posted. His series "Hurricane Man" premiers this Sunday eve at 9pm on the Science Channel. From what I understand it's pretty well done. First off: I owe you all a big apology for my silence. I had no communications for days—then came back to a media frenzy that entailed nonstop TV interviews in New York. I feel terrible about this, because my Facebook page is my home base, and you all are my family. So, I hope you can forgive me. Hurricane DORIAN on Great Abaco Island in the Bahamas... By far the most intense cyclone I’ve witnessed in 28 years of chasing. Holy crap. I caught the very last flight onto the island on Saturday—just before the airport shut down. I was going to ride out the storm in Treasure Cay but bailed at the last second when I noticed the hurricane's eye was heading almost due W and would likely pass S of there. In the wee morning hours—and with the wind already howling—I hastily packed the car and headed 20 mi SE back into town. FRONTSIDE I rode out DORIAN—a nuclear-grade Category 5 with sustained winds of 160 knots (185 mph/295 km/h)—in Great Abaco’s main town, Marsh Harbour. I was with 10 others—two families and three dudes—in a shuttered, boarded-up classroom in a solid-concrete school on a hill. (If you want the exact details, it was the Central Abaco Primary School—coordinates: 26.5392N 77.0803W.) I thought I was playing it safe—I thought wrong. The power of the storm blew my mind. The winds slowly increased Sunday morning, reaching a jaw-dropping climax a little after 12 noon. The peak winds were unlike anything I’ve witnessed—way beyond what I saw in MICHAEL, PATRICIA, MARIA, and even HAIYAN. The inner eyewall was a complete, 100% whiteout. Peering through a crack in the shutters on the downwind side of the room, I couldn’t see cars parked 20 feet away. And many of the wind’s most spectacular feats seemed to happen in this blizzard-like “cloak of whiteness.” The peak gusts struck the walls with the power of a thousand sledgehammers. There were two toddlers with us, and we wrapped them in blankets and put them under a table to keep them safe. My ears hurt and I had a throbbing headache. Water forced through every crack in the ceiling and walls, flooding the room. The boards had blown off the windows, and five of us were pressing furniture against the cyclone shutters on the upwind side of the room to keep them from blowing in—because if they did, the room would become a shooting gallery and we’d be in deep sh*t. In the roaring darkness, one of the mothers remarked that she no longer trusted the room to hold. I said, “We’re fine. I have 100% confidence we’re safe.” This was a lie. I was beginning to wonder. And I was right to, because we later found out many rooms in the school were torn open, with debris raining down on screaming victims inside. In fact, we were the luckiest room in the entire building. Just after 1 pm, the roar of the wind diminished. It seemed to be calming down, and we could see it getting brighter outside. We forced the door open—it had been wedged shut by flying debris—and crept out into a windy apocalypse… EYE Much of the building was destroyed. The cars outside had been tossed in every direction and mutilated (yes, mutilated). The landscape had been scrubbed bare. I didn't get a stadium eye at my location—it was bright, milky, misty, windy. The school's courtyard was buzzing with activity—hundreds of folks trying to decide what to do. Bahamians know hurricanes, and everyone was crystal-clear on our situation—that we were in the exact center of the storm and only halfway through it. Bottom line: the shelter was no longer safe and the horrible winds would soon return. Folks were wild-eyed. Fighting back emotions, the shelter supervisor celebrated that no one on the premises had died. Another woman chanted, again and again—with great passion—“God is great. God is great." My barometer hit a low of 913.4 mb—way lower than I've ever seen it. We had to act fast. Out of the 11 people in my room, three of us still had sort-of-functioning cars. (Miraculously, mine was almost undamaged—just a small crack in the windshield.) We decided to relocate to the Bahamas Government Complex—a huge, sturdy office building about a mile away. I was tortured by this decision, as it meant I'd have to gather up my instruments and stop collecting data during a truly momentous meteorological event. In fact, I almost said "f*ck it" and stayed in the damaged building so I could continue collecting data. But, three of the dudes in my group were counting on me for their ride to safety. The moral thing to do was drive them—and so I did. We piled into the three cars and hauled ass—a caravan snaking around the wreckage in the roads. The sky was murky and threatening. The whole way I shuddered at the thought of getting caught out on the road in those terrible Category-5 winds. When we got to the government complex, it was a scene to behold: people frantically converging on the monumental pink building from every direction—all of them victims who’d just had near-death experiences. Many from the nearby, poorer Haitian neighborhoods had swum to safety when a gargantuan storm surge swept away their homes; residents from the more upscale communities had abandoned their houses after the wind smashed them to pieces. DORIAN's calm eye literally saved lives, because it gave people a chance to relocate from destroyed shelters. The government complex had taken a beating, but most of the damage was cosmetic. The walls had stayed up and the roof had stayed on—and that was all that mattered to the hundreds of human souls squeezing into its dark, steamy hallways just as the storm started up again. BACKSIDE The backside winds rapidly returned with a truly awful whistling sound at about 2:30 pm. I watched through impact glass as palm trees bent way over, and then everything turned white again—to the soundtrack of an angry tea kettle. The corridors and cubicles of the government complex were dark, steamy, and overrun with people—young people, the elderly, infants, poor people, wealthy people, the healthy, the injured. My friends from the shelter and I stuck together—after what we’d been through together, we were now family—and we found a storage closet that we decided was home. Space was limited. The children were put on top of file cabinets. I had a small spot on the floor in the corner—large enough to sit with my legs bent. Even deep in the building, I could still hear DORIAN’s angry, Cat-5 whistle. It just seemed to cut through all the other sounds. You couldn’t escape it. AFTER I don’t remember exactly when the worst of the hurricane passed. But late in the afternoon, you could venture out into the courtyard if you stayed close to the walls. That said, more than a couple of times sudden hurricane-force bursts knocked people to the ground, badly injuring one dude. By nightfall, the danger had passed, though heavy rain and strong winds continued. The scene inside the government complex had grown unpleasant. The heat, the smells, the screaming of children, the cramped conditions were enough to give the most Zen person acute claustrophobia. And there was no plumbing. So, sometime around midnight, I carefully tiptoed across the sea of sleeping refugees—finding tiny spaces between mothers and children to put my feet—and made my way into the cool, stormy night… and to the car. THE CAR It was a cheap little car. But somehow it had gone through the core of a Category-5 hurricane with just a small crack in the windshield—this while cars all around it had been thrown, torn open, even mangled. At this point I decided the car would be my home until I escaped the island. And once I made the decision, I cleaned and organized it. The project lifted my spirits. I had no idea how many days I’d be there, and I wanted to feel like I was in control—not spiraling into a black hole. So, the space became sacred—and I made rules. There was a place for water, a place for food, a place for clean clothes, a place for dirty clothes, a place for technology, and a place for me to sit and sleep. There was a bag for garbage. I took an inventory of my supplies and estimated that, with strict rationing, I’d be OK for five days—hungry but not starving, thirsty but not dehydrated. This might sound sad, but I felt like a king. I felt blessed to have this tiny, clean space that was mine, and enough supplies so I didn’t have to ask for help. I put the driver’s seat all the way back and slept deeply to the sound of pounding rain. I woke up to a grey, stormy day, ready to face whatever the universe threw at me. THE DAY AFTER By the light of day, I went back into the government complex, which was a buzzing beehive of human activity—teeming with hundreds of hurricane victims. I obviously stood out as a foreigner, being one of the few white dudes there. But folks were universally friendly. They wanted to talk, to tell their stories. And the stories were all incredible—especially the ones coming from folks who’d escaped the nearby low-lying shantytowns knows as The Mudd and The Pigeon Pea. The whole area had been swept clean by a mammoth storm surge. Many had to swim to safety, sometimes dragging or carrying injured relatives. Some watched loves ones get swept away. There were reports of grisly deaths from flying debris, the details of which I won’t go into. Almost everyone I talked to had seen bodies or knew of family members or friends who’d perished. Every escape tale was epic. A Haitian dude, Shaquille, even joked as he told his story, “This should be a movie.” Another blessing of having a functioning car: I could be useful and help people. I spent most of the afternoon as a free taxi service. I drove an injured dude to the nearby medical clinic—a small facility with a heroic staff doing their best to treat hundreds of injured victims. Then I drove a couple to their destroyed home in the Central Pines neighborhood so they could salvage their belongings. Then I returned to the medical clinic to pick up the injured dude and bring him back to the government complex. And so on. Marsh Harbour was devastated. Despite the Bahamas’ excellent building codes, DORIAN’s extreme winds tore off roofs and smashed walls. Cars weren’t just moved—they were thrown across streets and crumpled. Trees were reduced to sticks. . I went down to The Mudd to inspect the massive surge aftermath, but much of the area was still inundated and it was hard to get near it. Everything looked dead, lunar, apocalyptic. Heavy rain and gusty winds all day added insult to injury for victims who’d lost everything. By evening I was exhausted. I parked the car outside the government complex, ate a meager dinner, and spent the hours of darkness drifting in and out of sleep. It was still stormy but improving slightly—and that meant more people were walking around at night. Not wanting to attract attention, I observed a strict dusk-to-dawn blackout, avoiding all use of devices that gave off light. I didn’t need to make it obvious I was alone in my car all night. THE NEXT DAY The day after the hurricane was about gratitude. Folks were grateful they’d survived. The next day, however, felt different—darker. Taking a short drive to check the road to the airport—it was still completely inundated—I saw crowds looting a furniture store. And back at the government complex, folks seemed impatient for help and for answers. Forty-eight hours after the core of the hurricane smashed Marsh Harbour, squalls *still* brought gales and heavy rain. It felt like we’d never escape this damn cyclone and see the sun again. I went back into the dark government complex and made my way to the storage closet that had become our group’s “home.” Only one of the families remained. The mother seemed tired, frustrated. I didn’t have extra supplies, but I also wasn’t in a dire situation—so I gave the father a couple of bottles of water—worth their weight in gold by this point. My goal was to get off the island and back to civilization, to show the world what had happened—the extent of the catastrophe. And I got lucky that day. I did get off—on a military chopper that had extra room. Once I landed in Nassau and reconnected with the world, my phone went absolutely nuts—nonstop chimes and beeps. It was at that point that I realized how much folks had freaked out about multiday silence. I saw all kinds of speculation—whole newspaper articles about what might’ve happened to me. I heard reports I’d died. I was apparently on a missing person’s list—something which seriously bugged me because 1) I was never missing and 2) this takes attention and resources away from victims. Typically after a big hurricane like this, communications fail and I’m incommunicado for a few days. It happens every time—my silence doesn’t mean I’ve died—and I wish folks wouldn’t assume the worst. RETURN The next day, a photojournalist friend hired a helicopter to bring him to Great Abaco so he could cover the story for the TV networks. He had an extra seat and invited me to come. I felt I was tempting fate to return to Marsh Harbour so soon after escaping—but I decided to go. The third day after the storm was sunny and hot. DORIAN had finally pulled away and I could get a good look at the damage—which is epic in its scope and severity. The commercial center of town—a waterfront neighborhood that once had shops, hotels, and restaurants—is now just piles of rubble. Even solid-concrete buildings were swept away by the winds and storm surge, leaving only bare concrete slabs in some places. Even more shocking are The Mudd and Pigeon Pea—the low-lying, poorer neighborhoods near the government complex. This whole area of the city was swept clean. Almost nothing is standing—barely a house. The scent of death hangs over the wreckage—it’ll be a while before they recover all the bodies. HELP The Abaco Islands are in *dire* need of help. And I mean dire. This is the worst devastation I’ve witnessed since Super Typhoon HAIYAN in the Philippines back in 2013. As with HAIYAN, I’m thinking to take a more active role in the recovery—and I’m considering my options. One possibility is fundraising to help rebuild the Central Abaco Primary School (where I rode out the first half of the storm). That’s just one idea. In the meantime, if you’d like to help out, here’s a guide to some relief organizations you can donate to: https://www.bahamas.com/relief In the coming days, I’ll be posting more images, a meteorological discussion of my data and observations, and a video of my experience. This was one of the biggest chases of my career—perhaps *the* biggest—and it’s gonna take me a while to tell the whole story. More soon!

Josh started a first-person account of his Dorian experience via a twitter thread. Here is a link to the unrolled version (with 5 tweets so far) - https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1170675844815216640.html

Is josh ok? Has anyone heard from him? Hope he’s ok, looks bad out in the Bahamas ?

i still think josh is shark food

Watching Josh’s Hurricane Man episode that is out now on Matthew from 2018. Pretty sick

To those who follow Josh Morgerman AKA Icyclone on FB, he has survived Dorian. https://knnp.tv/2019/09/03/josh-morgerman-icyclone-has-survived-hurricane-dorian/?fbclid=IwAR37H4PLF55cGKVVedUMDWE2WX7lnMqne7DoBh6S4WjVgCxYkIT5gNUFN5o

Yeah, that seems about right...a drug. I don't really have an issue with the storm chasing overall except for as you mention, when you put your self in danger, or anyone else. I do get a bit turned off when I see him say that he "hitched a ride with a military chopper". There must have been more to this than the nonchalant way it sounds. Military helicopters don't just let people jump on board. Also, why not get trained in some type of medical care and do more after these storms rip through? My guess is that Josh wants zero to do with the aftermath and the possibility of being stuck somewhere for days, and weeks without modern amenities, with filthy, hungry people all around him. ... A few days, maybe, but he really want out as quick as possible. I guess I would get trained to do more and try to help if I could. But, this is his thing, and he does it the way he wants, and does not care if he pisses people off along the way as is his right as long as he does not get in the way of rescue efforts.

I had a pristine copy of the 38 Hurricane emergency paper made by the Norwich Bulletin. I gave it to Hurricane Josh back in 06 at a conference as a surprise present as we had talked online and on the phone as he wanted to hear my Dads story. He framed it and it is hung in his house. My wxweeneie dom is a direct result of living in a town where 200 people died and hearing the stories by so many relatives. My Dad was a first responder. He described in detail what he saw.

Its a straight drug for him at this point. I get it, and reading some of his stuff, he almost seems ok with it if one of these does claim his life at some point. There's nothing else he'd rather be doing. Sitting at home while a Cat 5 hits some island is just not a possibility for him. I have a deep respect for people like that, who realize this is what they want to do with their life and they are going to do it. I also get some of the other comments... I mean, if anyone needs to come rescue him or provide emergency care.... it's the same as someone going up MWN and needing to be rescued (when a lot of the public wonders why you put the rescuers at risk). Some people hike Everest, some chase the eyewalls of Cat 5 hurricanes, others chase tornadoes, some dive to the deepest depths of the ocean possible. They didn't need to be there but they wanted to and they don't need anyone's permission to do so. Josh obviously plans well for it, but one can see both sides of the argument.