I’ll tell you what a fella with a bad back wants after spending a week clearing and cleaning his ex-house: six and a half inches of heavy, wet snow to shovel.
Good times. Maybe not.
I won’t tell you what I used for a measuring stick. But that snow cold. Yeah, and it deep, too.
Yow. Straight from Lycra to neoprene in one fell swoop.
It’s a bracing 12 degrees outside, and the few inches of snow were of the annoying variety — light enough to broom, but glazing slowly upward from sidewalk level, so I actually had to shovel for a change.
Well, we’ll take water in whichever form it chooses in these parts, as long as it arrives in reasonable quantities.
That means no more floods, please. Let’s stick to manmade disasters for a change, shall we?
Random observations on a snowy Wednesday:
• Sloth apparently has a genetic component. So, now, in addition to everything else, you can blame your parents for making you a lazy fat bastard.
• It doesn’t matter if you get shot by a loony. What matters is how many lawmakers might lose their jobs if even a watered-down bit of gun-control legislation were to pass Congress.
• Great idea, bad optics. I’m all for Denver making 2014 “the year of the bike,” having lived there for a few years that weren’t. But if you’re going to argue that bike-ped programs should be among your top budget priorities in a tough economy, it’s probably a good idea to not let a Denver Post scribe snap a staged photo that makes City Council look like a bunch of kids enjoying spring break on Mommy and Daddy’s dime.
• Seen descending a slushy Bibleburg hill: An Audi driver motoring one-handed with a cellphone clamped to her right ear. The very personification of the Angel of Death.
Or not.
A meteorologist must feel kinship with the Denver Broncos on a day like today. First, the big buildup — and then, the even bigger letdown.
We’ve not given up hope for a little moisture, mind you. The National Weather Service is still predicting snow showers, but the dumper has been dialed back to a dribble. And if this wind keeps up it will all end up in northeastern New Mexico anyway.
Naturally, the schools are all closed. Small wonder the nation’s supply of idiots is constantly on the rise.
When I was a sprout they wouldn’t close the schools if they were on fire and full of serial killers. And we had to walk to school, uphill both ways, in the snow. Real snow! Not this global-warming shit that looks like a drunk redneck took half a can of white Krylon to his plastic Christmas tree.
Mad Blog Media 