
The Gazette
It snowed last night. It hasn’t snowed here in ten years. It’s not supposed to snow here. This is the beach. It’s supposed to be warm. Sunny. No snow.
I have a favorite colorful adjective that I am often known to use during times of duress, stress, disbelief and shock and awe. I have been known to quite often use this colorful adjective as a comma or hyphen in the course of my daily oral recitations.
I counted once – yes, I counted – and I used this colorful adjective 43 times in one day. For one, I may have been influenced by the foreknowledge that I was keeping count, and two, it was a really, really bad day.
But feel free to insert my colorful adjective as a hyphen or comma anywhere you like in the following exclamations.
Unbelievable. Holy Moses. Geez Louise.
I’ve been exclaiming all morning. We have palm trees here. Sand. Alligators.
It’s. Not. Supposed. To. Snow.
So now it’s all about being prepared. And in that regard I have been waiting for this day for the last five years.
I have two hand-cranked radios that also serve as flashlights, reading lights, cell phone chargers and I think if you turn the big one over and hand-crank it enough you can fry a two-minute egg on it.
I have my Weather Crisis Command Center under the stairs. This is complete with communications back up (second cell phone), a stock of food rations (Twinkies, Snickers Bars, Chips, and an assortment of Little Debbie’s cakes), and about a case of various adult beverages leftover from a weekend road trip back in October.
I have enough provisions to sustain a rudimentary, but very fun lifestyle for three days, or at least until I run out of the Little Debbie’s or beer.
There was a run on the grocery stores Friday. It reminded me of Black Monday 1929 and the run on the banks. People went nuts, running out to get all the milk, eggs and bread they could get their hands on.
I saw one lady wheeling a buggy out of the grocery store yesterday packed with 10 gallons of bottled water and four bottles of wine. That’s what I call survival instincts.
But I submit to you, there exists this conspiracy among the government, the media and the dairy industry that subscribes to the thinking, when it snows you absolutely must have a well-stocked supply of milk, eggs and bread.
As soon as it looks like it’s about to cloud up and get cold, the word goes out for people to load up on milk, eggs and bread.
I haven’t had eggs in my refrigerator in six months and suddenly I feel this Pavlovian need to buy a couple dozen eggs, a gallon of milk and three loaves of bread.
What are we doing to do with all this, make French toast?
We had five inches of snow. This snow is like the relatives you wish you had. They only come around to visit once every ten years or so. They’re great to see and play with for a little while and then they’re gone by noon the next day.
In the end though, thoughts keep returning to Al Gore and his Nobel Peace Prize decrying the eminent threat of global warming unless we change our ways.
I have two words for Al Gore and his global warming.?Bull-hockey.
If you were to check geographic, climatic, and meteorological records you will see that we’re still slowly emerging from the last Ice Age. It’s a little hard to buy into all this global warming garbage when I’m sitting here looking out at five-inches of global warming all over my front yard.
I tell you what I want to see. A photograph of Al Gore shoveling snow. Dressed in a pair of Bermuda shorts and flip-flops. After all, it’s globally warm outside.
Great day. Beautiful weather. I’m at the beach.
Wish you were here.
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