Winter of My Discontent

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Well, idk if the word “normal” comes into play when describing Michigan’s winter weather events, these past 48 hours, BUT, the prognostications of high wind, torrential rain and major snowfall / freeze yer butt off cold; have all come true.

To give you an inkling of just how extreme each of these events has been…

  • Wind ~ It could’ve given Donald Trump an instant image makeover; i.e. a bad hair day that could’ve made him the spittiing image of Edward Scissorhands’ bleach blonde fraternal twin.
  • Rain ~ I sereiously thought my back yard was in the early stages of becoming the Sixth Great Lake.
  • Snow ~ I just came inside from a nearly 2 hour shoveling stint. Initially, I cleared at least 15cm / 6in, however, while working, another 5cm / 2in fell.
  • Combo ~ re whatever Rain the Wind failed to evaporate, the Deep Freeze (as I type / you read) is in the process of morphing into a massive, uneven skating rink; one that’d be quite the challenge to the 2022 Winter Olympic figure / speed skaters.
  • Epilogue ~ Considering how the storm is expected to hang out in my hood till 3a.m., the inevitable city snow plows messing up my lower driveway and drifting, too… well… I’ve got a busy Friday ahead.

Well, that’s the weather wrap up, for now.

If you’re experiencing similar conditions and have no particular place to go, play it safe by hunkering down in your bunkers; perhaps catching up on yer Z’s or binge watching yer fave TV shows.

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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[Storm Update] Not griping, but…

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…what was supposed to be the onset of this past Wednesday’s, two day duration, meteorological cataclysm, actually turned out to be a typical, Michigan snowstorm; so much so (so little so?) that the weather prognosticators wound up moving up yesterday’s projected 10 p.m. end time to 4 a.m.

To stay ahead of “the game”, I did manage to stick to my early-and-often snow shoveling strategy, however, right from the get-go, could sense something was amiss; e.g., when the predicted switchover from rain to heavy wet snow was slow in arriving and lacking in intensity; when the later in the day, accumulation could not keep pace with the anticipated 2.5cm / 1in per hour.

Prior to suppertime, I had shoveled only twice; my planning for a third session cancelled when my after dinner “brief nap” resulted in a many hours later, 2 a.m. wake up time; at which point my threefold, revised game plan became:

  • Do last night’s KP
  • Prepare my oatmeal b-fast
  • Complete that 3rd shoveling task

All the while, I could not help but wonder how this forecast could’ve been so wrong? Well, sorry to say, my conclusion boils down to global warming / climate change; my primary corroborating evidence:

Once upon a time, Michigan’s first major winter storms, typically, arrived in early November; i.e., did not wait until early February.

Additionally, for the past ten years, the Weather Channel experts have actually been “personalizing” these storms. While they claim such nomenclature helps avoid confusion, I believe their treating storms more like hurricanes is linked to how, with increasing frequency, these weather disturbances have been packing freakish, hurricane-like wallops. BTW…

“The storm names for 2022 are Atticus, Bankston, Carrie, Delphine, Elmer, Frida, Garrett, Hatcher, Izzy, Jasper, Kenan, Landon, Miles, Nancy, Oaklee, Phyllis, Quinlan, Rachel, Silas, Tad, Usher, Vega, Willow, Xandy, Yeager and Zion.” [Read Brief Article]

U.S. Sun Journalist Zoe Hu • Updated: 7:13 ET, Jan 30 2022

True, in my neck of the woods, Landon didn’t live up to the expectations, but, what’s the guarantee that some of the M thru Z named storms won’t wind up dangerous and, perhaps, even deadly next month? Next week? Tomorrow?

Even these events falling short of expectations, can be dangerous when the “Crying Wolf” syndrome kicks in; i.e., when the dismissive public stops paying attention. Beyond that…

Sadly, by the time our leader / legislator ostriches get their heads out of the sand (outta their butts) it will be too late. Alas, the best time for humanity orchestrating a climate change intervention will have come… and gone.

BTW, if you have any climate change observations, of your own, how about posting your what, where and when data in the comment section?

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

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Calm B4 the Storm…

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With yesterday’s sunshiny, unseasonably mild, above freezing temps, it was easy to get lulled into a false sense of security; in spite of the following, ominous, online (since Monday), headlined weather report:

“Winter Storm Warning from WED 6:00 AM EST until THU 10:00 PM EST”

The Weather Channel • 02/02/2022
  • WHAT…Heavy snow expected. Total snow accumulations of 11 to 15 inches.
  • WHEN…From 6 AM Wednesday to 10 PM EST Thursday

“ADDITIONAL DETAILS…Rain will change over to snow early Wednesday morning. Snow and falling temperatures on Wednesday will lead to snow covered and slick roads. Peak snowfall will be Wednesday afternoon, with rates up to an inch per hour at times. Snow will taper off Wednesday night. Gusty north winds Wednesday afternoon and evening may lead to some blowing and drifting snow and poor visibilities.”

The Weather Channel • 02/02/2022

If this all plays out as expected, those 15 inches… 38 centimeters… are going to make life tougher than it already is. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve topped off my car’s petrol tank and gone on one of those join the panicking masses, end-of-the-world grocery shopping excursions…

HOWEVER… with the who-the-hell-knows what impact the next corona variant (mutating as I type / you read) will have on the medical community’s “best” defenses, I opted to avoid the potentially infectious storm clouds (loaded with Super-Covid-19 Boogers); to shelter at home / remain content with my reasonably stocked larder.

My game plan is to stay ahead of this monster snowstorm by shoveling every three hours; unless more frequent measures are needed. Today’s initial snow is expected to be wet and heavy but as the temps plummet, there will be a changeover to fluffy and light.

While I’ll remain WP logged-in and would much rather be seated at my desk, needless to say, my attention will soon become far more outdoors oriented; i.e., until this weather emergency comes to an end by the weekend.

Considering the next two day’s worth of unlimited snowfall coupled with limited tax dollars, the plow crews won’t be clearing away this entire mess anytime soon. So, for the immediate future, the word “snowbound” will best describe life here in my neck of the Michigan woods.

On the bright side, this event will likely socially isolate everyone, sufficiently, to slow America’s latest Omicron surge.

As for the hundreds of thousands of us, both professionals and amateurs, who’ll soon be on the snow removal front lines…

Wish us luck… and considering the slippery conditions, whatever you do, don’t say, “Break a Leg!”

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

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The We / Me Scale

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It’s a forgone conclusion that We v. Me pretty much sums up today’s ugly, never the twain shall meet, THICK, hyperpartisan divide; especially Stateside. If your own homeland suffers from a similar mental malaise / meltdown, you do have my heartfelt sympathy and, for what it’s worth, my Get Well Soon wishes.

Naturally, dual connotations of a word, such as THICK, not only define that vast divides’ dimension, but also aptly describe the Me-oriented persons’ density. To get a better handle on this, we’ll need to…

STEP #1: Establish / Title a Scale and briefly describe each tier’s people…

The We/Me Scale

  • Free We: Progressives, who accept laws, which lead to society’s betterment
  • So-so We: Capitulators, who obey life enhancing laws only to avoid penalties
  • Sorta Me: Bellyachers, who seem to obey; yet, litigate virtuous laws to death
  • PO’d Me: Anarchists, who’d overthrow a nation to absolutely overturn all laws

STEP #2: Run a thought experiment to assess how each brand of beings will likely react to, oh, say, their local communities’ public safety motivated, public sidewalk snow / ice removal mandates; oh, say, in the wake of a climate change generated, freakish winter storm.

  • Free We folks will willingly shovel every several hours, throughout the entire, seemingly interminable event, in an eco-friendly manner; only resorting to snow blowers if they have medical issues.
  • So-so We peeps won’t venture outdoors until the bitter end; barely meeting the stipulated snow removal deadlines.
  • Sorta Me individuals might hire enterprising neighborhood youngsters to get ‘er done, but, typically, will await the spring thaw. In the meantime, these scofflaws, if/when fined, will delay payment while litigating till hell freezes over.
  • PO’d Me entities will flat-out flip-off all laws and fines; all the while fantasizing about off-the-beaten-path plots to browbeat civil society into submission or obliteration (whichever comes first); their responses varying; i.e., depending on the severity of their psychoses.

Most worrisome is how that last on the list ilk might even consider bizarre tactics, such as…

  • Setting up a “hunter’s blind” to ambush any enforcer who’d have the “audacity” to fine them.
  • Hiring a backhoe operator / helicopter pilot to excavate / evacuate the public sidewalk; airlifting each snow / ice loaded concrete section to a nearby airport; to be jetted off to some torrid locale; and, once everything melts, reversing the entire process.
  • Literally going ballistic by hacking into their homelands’ nuclear facilities; targeting and launching the nukes, thereby melting down every molecule of frozen H2O; HELL, every molecule / atom period (nation / worldwide).

Granted, even the possibility of that sounds astoundingly farfetched, BUT, then again, prior to January 6, 2021, so did the possibility of a sitting U.S. president, first, rallying HIS private army; next, deploying them to attack the very nation that he had sworn on the Holy Bible, to preserve, protect and defend.

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

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Message for Ideological / Meteorological Storm Survivors…

 

Preface: My tardiness in posting my heartfelt sentiments is based solely upon my uncertainty that any mere words appearing here, on my indescribably obscure website, can make any real difference to anyone anywhere. Nevertheless… and better late than never… here goes…

In our world besieged by relentless, horrifically devastating, manmade ideological and meteorological storms, I’m certain of only three things…

  1. Any direct attack that deprives even one kindly, innocent human soul of sweet freedom and/or precious life is an indirect assault against multiple billions of decent people… worldwide.
  2. We (potential victims all), who really do give a damn about humanity’s survival, would appear to be powerless in bringing about the necessary changes that could diminish / end those abovementioned disasters in the foreseeable future.
  3. Last but not least… be your attacker a freakish hurricane, tornado, rain/snow/ice/fire storm or drought… be your assailants Klansmen, Nazis, ISIS or a pseudo president traitor… I extend my profound sorrow and sympathy to each and every stressed out, suffering survivor AND my best wishes for a speedy recovery to the fullest extent that is medically, humanly and economically possible. My heartfelt condolences go out to all the good, heartbroken people whose family members, loved ones, dear friends and close acquaintances have perished.

 

 

Snow Days (Chapter 3)

 

A few houses up Carl and Cathy’s street resided their school’s head custodian, Phil Anders, who was also home on this snow day. His philosophy of life could best be summed up as “Make love AND war!”

As for the “love” element to that phrase, according to the neighborhood grapevine, he and his live-in gal pal were “friends with benefits” decades before that phrase would become popularized. There was even some clever wordplay, which had morphed his name to the nickname, “Philanderer Phil”.

As for the “war” element, this guy harbored “I’m as mad as hell” anger management issues that, a decade later, could’ve easily inspired actor Peter Finch’s portrayal of TV anchorman, Howard Beale in the big screen flick, “Network.”

Indeed, he could’ve spun a sphygmomanometer into perpetual motion and blown his top skyward with such a force, his shiny cranial bone fragments could’ve easily reached escape velocity to create safety issues for 60s era NASA astronauts orbiting the Earth in their Gemini space capsules.

Physically, Phil was a cross between Arnold Schwarzenegger (minus the accent) and the Incredible Hulk (minus the green). Were it not for his receding hairline, under dim lighting conditions he could’ve even triggered a few bogus Sasquatch sightings, too. As for battling the winter elements, with such a burly physique, he was a natural.

He was always loaded for bear (loaded on beer, too) and ready to engage any DPW’s snowplow driver who had the gall to “home deliver”… from the roadways to his lower driveway… the mega-tonnage of oft thigh-deep snow and icy sludge.

When in his full-blown wild-man mode, he was not only the maestro of middle digit sign language, but he also had a knack for providing the neighborhood youngsters a liberal education… expanding their vocabulary with words never heard in the Bible… well, at least not his choice, four letter synonyms. His protégés even developed an appreciation for poetry once they heard how well he could form crude couplets involving the words truck, trucking, trucker… well… you get the idea.

On this particular snow day, he even introduced his captive audience to his precision snow shovel hurl event… targeting… you guessed it… the moving DPW truck! With a bit more training, a bit less beer and proper self-promotion, he could’ve created a whole new Winter Olympics event.

Carl could already smell that approaching plow truck’s diesel, hear the telltale Doppler shift effect of its roaring engine and the scraping sounds of blade applied to asphalt when… reverie broken… he returned to the here and now snowstorm… just in time to hear the sounds and catch a whiff of the actual thing.

Gazing up the street through the whiteout conditions, he was just in time to spot the DPW snowplow rounding the bend. Carl could only imagine how Phil would’ve reacted for that madman had passed on decades ago.

Mere moments later, the driver had blocked his driveway with a ton of hefty, heavy, slushy, snow “boulders”. Though sufficiently PO’d to morph into Phil’s persona, he suppressed the urge to reintroduce his snow shovel hurl. He was forced to concede that this was the one and only efficient and cost effective snow removal method available.

So there Carl stood… momentarily leaning on his shovel… figuratively and literally snowed under by the new task at hand. Armed with only his muscles and shovel, for the second time that day, he was again slaving away to clear his lower driveway.

He did chuckle a bit as he caught himself muttering some of the very same profane couplets ol’ Phil had taught him in his younger days.

After a half hour had passed, it was mission accomplished. Even better, the snowfall had eased up a bit, too. Carl was finally heading back for the warmth of his home. Turning the key in the lock, just prior to turning the doorknob, he did linger a moment to take one last look up the street… set his gaze upon the house once occupied by his unforgettable neighbor.

Through the upward wafting frozen clouds of Carl’s exhaled, condensing breath, he offered his thanks to Phil for all those fun, fond memories. And just in case that wild man had, instead, wound up taking the “down escalator” ride, Carl sent those same thanks hellward, too.

 

Snow Days (Chapter 2)

 

The flash of rare winter lightning and subsequent rumble of thunder, as well as a sudden onrush of cold air had briefly snapped Carl back to the present-day snowstorm. A fierce wind gust had also blown his down jacket’s hood backward. Hurriedly refastening the Velcro, he resumed his seemingly endless, snow shoveling routine. As he battled the winter elements, his reverie returned and zeroed in on a long ago snow day of his youth… and, regrettably, that included a childish battle with his dear sister Cathy.

On that particular day, their bickering had gone way beyond the typical sibling rivalry. Adding to the tensions were Carl’s unscrupulous business practices. His devious MO was to sell to her his transistor radio’s used (nearly dead) 9V batteries.

It had been quite by accident that he’d discovered how, after these dry cells had failed, they oftentimes (albeit briefly) came back to life. Ergo, whenever his sibling’s radio went dead, like a circling vulture, he’d swoop down and set up shop. Of course, that day’s snowstorm… one that had rendered the roads into town nearly impassible… made it far easier for him to close the sale. For Cathy, it all boiled down to either buying his shoddy wares or missing out on listening to her fave new Beatles songs.

In feeble defense of his compromised, faltering ethics, he did warn her she was buying used merchandise and, if lucky, she might get up to an hour’s worth of music out of her radio.

However, once her luck ran out… her battery conked out… her justifiable indignation boiled over, which powered her high decibel demands for a full refund… only to be met by her brother’s smug reminder, “Sorry, all sales are final!”

While present day Carl took a breather from his shoveling, he tempered his memories with a grown-up perspective. He realized that a well-timed parental intervention had made him the principled man he had become. He fully credited Mom and Dad’s stern lectures for successfully curing him of his crooked, conman conduct. Had they not?

Well… he could’ve easily morphed into a predatory lender or, perhaps, even some rank, high-ranking, power-tripping, eccentric, egocentric archconservative. Hell… he might’ve even metastasized into a “too big to fail”, global economy plundering, Wall Street bankster and/or tyrannical, egomaniacal, whining, crybaby, capricious, Constitution gutting, corrupt, corporately owned, unpresidential president.

Carl’s thoughts once again bridged the decades… back to that particular snow day of his youth… how he had looked over his left shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of his own Mom rolling her eyes and slowly, glumly shaking her head side to side.

With his now grown-up perspective, he could totally dig her reaction… even caught himself mimicking her same gestures.

He realized that there are still far too many spoiled rotten boys who never received that much needed, inter-generationally imparted wisdom… and, as such, too many of them were doomed, forever, to remaining little boys, hopelessly, helplessly trapped in adult bodies… that such infantile misbehavior / arrested development represents much of what is wrong in his homeland… indeed… the entire world.

Once again Carl resumed shoveling and remembering… picking up where he had left off…

By that time, young Cathy and Carl’s poor, sleep deprived Dad had realized that there could be no extra ZZZ’s for him. And adding to this already considerable racket, Mom would be revving up her vacuum cleaner; employing this “white noise” as a means to drown everyone out.

So desperate for some peace and quiet, both parents teamed up and used their best con job to convince their kids to go outside and play in the snow. Their logic… what better way to get them to “chill out”? Dad could barely contain his chuckling as he handed them both snow shovels and said, “Have fun kids.”

And once they were out-of-doors, it was only out of parental love that he had resisted the strong temptation to haul out some nails and oak 2 X 4s to hammer barricades across both front and back doors. Of course, the fact that his kids were now unknowingly and obediently clearing the sidewalks and five car length driveway for him could only help get them back into his good graces.

Their labors had also netted them a fringe benefit. The resultant snow piles were the stuff snow forts were made of. Once their opposing “military bases” had been completed, the snowball fights erupted; approaching levels of viciousness that only could’ve been an extension of their earlier indoor skirmish.

It probably would not have even shocked Carl had Cathy gotten one final usage out of all of those used batteries he had sold to her… by hiding them inside her snowball WMD… the sis vs. bro battle “powered” by dead batteries.

Well, eventually, the hostilities subsided. Not unlike Carl’s used batteries, yet another dwindling energy issue had occurred… as the morning had worn on, their sugar buzzes bad worn off.

Just about the time the siblings had gotten the rage out of their systems and declared peace, that’s when aggression of a different nature kicked in… courtesy of their nearby, madman neighbor, Phil Anders.

 

Chapter 3 to be posted tomorrow.

Snow Days (Chapter 1)

 

Once upon a time…

…lifelong Michigander Carl Schuster woke up to the telltale sounds of roaring, sustained, window rattling winds. Reluctantly leaving his cozy bed he could already feel the chill in the air as he traipsed over to the window to peer through the curtains. The predawn dimly lit sights of his frozen and drifted over neighborhood were certainly consistent to the howling gales he’d been hearing.

Once again, Ma Nature was unleashing one of her early winter blizzards and she had already dumped tons of the white stuff in his neck of the woods. Awakening his Mac from its slumbers, a quick check of his favorite weather website confirmed what he had already suspected… most of the northern tiered states were under siege and the worst of this massive weather system was far from over. Waiting in the wings was the potential for winter thunder and lightning followed by a brief warm-up that could bring a wintery mix of snow, freezing rain and sleet. Last but not least, there was a massive polar vortex looming… one which would eventually send the mercury plummeting to subzero double digits.

Resetting his furnace thermostat upward, he could hear his ancient, Grayline gas fired furnace coming back to life. Switching on the kitchen radio, pre-tuned to the all news station, the talk jock was already in mid-delivery of one of his hi-octane, apocalyptic weather-on-the-eights reports and, in the process, doing his damnedest to stoke up the adrenaline levels of every susceptible listener in his captive audience.

True, this was a sizable storm, but to Carl, the somewhat jaded, veteran winter warrior, he couldn’t help but wonder what made that newsreader so hyper? Was his on-air demeanor a contractual obligation? Might a fast food drive-thru window screw-up have netted him regular coffee instead of decaf? Or maybe he had simply forgotten to refill his Xanax Rx?

Well, it didn’t take long for Carl to prepare and chow down his basic breakfast fare… a heapin’ helpin’ of stick to your ribs oatmeal, a couple of cups of energizing espresso and two slices of crispy toast layered thick with strawberry jam.

With his body now fueled up and the morning dishes cleaned up, he gazed out the window at the blustery near whiteout conditions and let out a long sigh. He realized there was little point in procrastinating further. Buckling up his boots and bundling up in a down parka he grabbed his snow shovel and left the comfort of his humble home to bravely trudge into the winter wonderland… to go head to head with what was sure to only be round one in this days long meteorological event.

It rapidly dawned on Carl that he was barely keeping up with the snowfall. Indeed, clearing this mess from his sidewalks and five-car length long driveway made him feel like he was fighting a losing battle. Undertaking such a repetitive, mindless task amidst a bone chilling, monotonous, white tableau, he suddenly started to feel his mind zoning out.

No… not quite to the point where he was channeling Stephen King’s flipped out character… the snowbound, Overlook Hotel sitter, Jack Torrance, who, in the film, “The Shining”, had repeatedly swung a hatchet to chop through a bathroom door, stick his head through the splinters and insanely, gleefully proclaim, “Heeeeres Johnny!”

Nope… nothing quite so surreal and melodramatic.

Instead, Carl was now flashing back to some vivid, real life recollections… fond bittersweet memories dating back to his elementary school days. Indeed, it had been on a similar, snowbound morn, when he and his young sister, Cathy, had been stationed in their respective bedrooms… each still snug in their beds, tuned into their pocket-sized, transistor radios… both listening, intently, to their pre-agreed upon different radio stations as two broadcasters were running down, county by county, the miles long list of school-closing notifications.

But, eventually, their patience had paid off. They’d no sooner heard their school’s name mentioned when their squeals of glee echoed throughout their home. Dad being a teacher in the same district, this meant he’d be home for the day, too.

By now, both the aroma of frying bacon and fresh brewed coffee were wafting through the air so there was little need for homemaker Mom to invite everyone to her pancake breakfast.

Once their morning meal was history, everyone quickly made their plans. Dad, who, just the night before, had been burning the midnight oil correcting and grading his student’s turned in papers, opted to roll back into bed to catch up on his sleep. Since there was no need to pack her children’s lunchboxes, Mom decided to pop some made-from-scratch sweet rolls into the oven.

Even though they could hardly wait for them to be baked, Cathy and Carl each wandered off into their own little worlds… initially, quietly, indulging themselves in their gender typical hobbies… Sis sticking to her sewing / knitting projects… Bro “engineering” his toy Lionel electric trains / constructing cool stuff with his Building Blocks and Erector Set. Since these kids were both quite capable of multitasking, this meant their nostrils would be flaring to detect the first telltale scent of cinnamon and ears would be geared towards hearing the oven’s timer going off.

Mom barely had time to ice these still warm, delectable confections with thick, gooey, vanilla flavored frosting before her drooling young’uns began scarfing them down… and the accompanying sugar buzz was sure to fuel the fire of their juvenile squabbles.

Initially, they fought over who would get to eat the last cinnamon roll. Mom, ever the shrewd diplomat, quickly cut it half and then showed them she had already prepared a second batch, which was still rising and nearly ready to pop into the oven.

She shook her head side to side as she realized she had only negotiated an uneasy truce. On this particular morn… under these cooped up circumstances, she knew some of the childish battles to come would have the potential of going thermonuclear.

Carl certainly had seen that flash of light… but it was not from that long ago “atomic” blast. No… this had been the winter lightning and rumbling thunder, which had jolted him back to present-day reality…

 

Chapter 2 to be posted tomorrow.