We go right to the Hannah Storm center desk for all the latest on the Franklin Raines we’ve been having.

The Maxine Waters are rising so high, the Lynn Rivers are so swollen. we may have to open the gates at Kenneth Dam.  We urge you to stay away from Celinda Lake, Anthony Lake, and Jim Lake — even if you’re vacationing up at Henry Cabot Lodge.

Meantime, beware of Roger Mudd slides.  And all the fallen Charles Tries.  Enough to fill the Harriet Woods.  Or an entire Forrest Sawyer.

Thankfully, the water has been great for my back yard.  My Chuck Grassley has never looked better.  Neither have my Gennifer Flowers.  But I’ll have to pick the Doug Weads.  And yesterday, my house lost all Francis Gary Powers.

And at least it’s not Tony Snow.  And at least it’s not John Snow.  And at least it’s not Olympia Snowe.  What is rain could easily be a Jeff Flake or a Floyd Flake.  Just thinking about cold makes me shiver, like Aaron Brrrrrr.  Of course, we could use some sun, like in Iraq, where it’s always Sunni out.

You know what they say about the season: In like Jeffrey Lyons, out like Brian Lamb.

Coming up next: Traffic — lots of Tom Delays on our Jim Rhodes and Lloyd Bridges.

And later: Sports.  Where have you gone, Curt Flood?