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“Maybe you and me were never meant to be,
just maybe think of me once in a while,
I’m at WKRP in Cincinnati….”


WKRP In Cincinnati
Theme Song

This snow’s a bitch, ain’t it?

Geez. We’re getting pummeled where I am at. I thought it was a fluke this year. I thought it would fake us out. Nope. The weather is playin’ the blitz play and there’s no gettin’ off this train until it stops, man. Full speed ahead until the end of March and then possibly gettin’ hit one more time in mid-April.

You would almost think the government is behind it.

I know one thing that’s NOT behind it and that’s my freakin’ car, man. I got a stupid little Honda Civic. Great car in the summer,…but it’s crap in the winter. I haven’t gotten stuck yet. That’s a good thing. This front wheel drive stinks,…but the car moves like a panther in more conducive climate….so it has it’s shares of gives and takes….but in winter it’s just slides and shakes.

I don’t know about you, but I’m one of those people who does that whole preventative thing in October. I make sure I have jumper cables. I make sure I have a bottle of anti-freeze in the trunk along with some tools that you don’t think you need but you really do. Like a portable air-compressor (due to tires running dangerously low air pressure the colder it gets. The sensor will say that you are low, but air,….I dunno,….contracts….because of the cold. It expands when it gets warmer. Make any sense? I have seen my tire air pressure read low in the cold and when it warms up, the light on the dash will go off.)

In spite of all my preparations, I still can’t get past the dreaded summit debacle that ensues every night about this time. The parking lot where I work is accessed by a rather steep hill that is enclosed by a chain-link fence,…which makes your point of entry and your escape rather harrowing in the winter months.

It’s like a winter olympic bobsleigh race. Picture, if you will, a little black bobsleigh trying to go up a hill,…and that’s where you see me behind the wheel of my Honda. It looks cool as hell going down it, but goin’ up it, I look like and idiot. Goin’ down it, I look like Gene Hackman in the French Connection.

Writing about it, I sound like an idiot.

Oh,…yeah,….and it doesn’t help that our municipality plays this poverty game every winter.

“We don’t have enough money to buy salt and pay our plow-drivers because you all voted the speed cameras out. If we had THAT revenue, we could buy salt,…so you did it to yourselves.”

Then the cops,….you know what they do? They lay in wait for you to come slip-slidin’ down the street and then pull you over for “failure to control.” I seen it happen, man. So bogus. You’re sliding down the street and shit and they pull you over an say you’re not controlling your vehicle properly.

“Report to the city and pay the fine!”

Ya know,….this cabin fever is total bullshit.

Came home to make some stuffed cabbages, but was so late, I had to settle for a Bob Evan’s breakfast bowl instead. (nothin’ like rubbery, microwaved eggs….)

Now all that’s left is to crawl under the covers and turn on “Terror By Night”….starring Basil Rathbone, Nigel Bruce and Skelton Knaggs.

(I swear,…Skelton Knaggs had to be a creep in real life. He gives me the chills just watchin’ him, man. Dude is bogus. Just hearin’ him talk sends my ass into a pucker.)

Anyway,….

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