Slightly Off the Mark

The other day I was at Wal-Mart (wearing two layers of pajamas--brrrr), when I ran into a polar bear shopping for winter coats. "Shouldn't you be up north?" I asked.

"Nah, I'm tired of the cold. I'm heading to the Gulf Coast. Hopefully this Arctic air won't keep following me."

Then he took off south in his Tundra. I don't know what happened to him, but I have a feeling he's not happy.

Shall we talk about the weather? Everything west of the Rocky Mountains is burning, everything east is freezing. It's like a Rankin/Bass stop motion special about Hell.

The Heat Miser and Cold Miser battle over Las Vegas.

I told everyone: "Don't welcome 2025! Wait until you get to know it better!" Well, here it is, and now we know it just fine.

It can be argued that this is just a continuation of 2024, anyway. The Hawaii fires were last August. Hurricane Helene decided it wanted a mountain vacation back in September, so it headed for the Appalachian Mountains--and flattened them.

Sure, a lot of people up there are in tents and are running short of propane, but it's the South--at least it won't be too cold. Will it?

Getting really tired of the term "record breaking".

Here in northern Indiana we had, as the British might say, "a bit of a cool spell". The high temperature earlier in the week was 30 degrees lower than normal. At one point, the wind chill factor was minus 30 degrees. Fahrenheit. It made me a little nostalgic for the late 70s and 80s, when the phrase was "another weekend, another snowstorm".

Back then Time Magazine produced an article titled "Another Ice Age?" (From 1974. I was convinced I saw that title on the cover in 1977, but it didn't happen.) Global cooling was taken seriously by a lot of people, although even then others warned about global warming. Some of my favorite science fiction stories back then were about efforts to survive the oncoming glaciers.

As for me, I was deliriously happy when I found out the globe was warming instead of cooling. Then I read a science journal article predicting a few areas of the planet might actually get cooler, even as the rest warmed up.

And guess what winter-hating blogger lives in one of those areas?

But there's a difference between climate and weather, and right now the Cold Miser has told the Heat Miser to "hold my pina colada, and watch this". As awful as our Indiana weather has been, this is a mild spot in the country.

A blizzard warning on the Gulf Coast of Texas and Louisiana. A blizzard warning. Snow working its way up the southern states. A snowstorm in New Orleans.

New Orleans! The place looks like North Dakota.

Imagine if they had their Mardi Gras now. All those poor guys with thousands of beads, and they can't get the inebriated ladies to show anything. Have you ever had a frostbit nipple? Okay, neither have I, but I have had frostbitten fingers, toes, ears, and cheeks (on my face, mind you), and I can imagine.

(I wonder what kind of drink a frostbit nipple would be?)

"I don't feel jazzed at all."

And the women would unzip their coats, unbutton their quilted shirts, and show their flannel. Why? Because if they can get enough beads, it's another layer of insulation.

So the disasters keep coming, so fast one is still going on when the next one strikes. If you want to keep track, hope the Weather Channel shows a split screen. Or, you could invest in a few more TVs and have each playing a different channel. That may seem extreme, but I have friends in all the disaster areas, not to mention I've always been a weather nerd, anyway.

Still, I wouldn't mind a break from the weather. I'll bet I'm not the only one.

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Remember: Books make a good wind break.

(It's possible I was a little irate when I wrote this. Also, I'm hopeful the snowy weather is over for the season, but not convinced.)

I contend that DWS (Driving While Stupid) should be a death penalty offense.

Of course, DWS isn't illegal to begin with, but we have to start somewhere.

Look, I’ve done foolish things while driving. I once backed an ambulance into a mailbox--and yeah, it was snowing, but it wasn't the snow's fault. I slid over a stop sign with a police office standing ten feet away. Snow was an accomplice in that case. I took a 1976 Pontiac Ventura off-road four wheeling – and no, Venturas were not FWD.

My youth may have been a reason, but not an excuse. I’ve slowed down, but others haven’t. Worse, the people who cause the mayhem often walk away uninjured, whining about how traumatized they are from the experience.

“It was horrible, all the kids in the back of my pickup flying through the air, and the nun’s body knocked out my tire alignment -- *sob* -- I almost lost my grip on my beer. Luckily I had my cell phone in my other hand, so I was able to call 911.”

"What? It looks fine."

 Sometimes–not always – drivers of big vehicles are most reckless. Why? Well, drivers of small cars are scared stiff. You think I’m going to tailgate a truck that has a spring loaded bumper aimed at my nose, and a “Honk if You Love Guns” bumper sticker? I don’t think so.

Second, many drivers of large vehicles thumb their noses at Mother Nature. “What’s a little freezing rain? I’ve got four wheel drive!” It’s fun to play the game where you’re passed by an SUV, then get to point and laugh at him when he lands in the ditch two miles on.

It’s the definition of False Sense of Security. Yes, maybe you and your truck will get through your 65 mph trip in blinding snow without incident. Angels watch over the foolish. Or maybe the next time will be the one when you’ll end up parked in somebody’s living room, with a Toyota under you that can now qualify as a throw rug.

Here’s a wild idea: Slow your ass down. A five thousand pound block of metal, at a speed that would terrify an Indy 500 racer of 75 years ago, is not under your control, even in the best weather conditions. Add to that rain, deer, and other idiot drivers, and you’ve got a recipe for bloody mayhem.

“That won’t happen to me,” you say. You’re a moron. Nobody’s last words were, “I have a feeling I’m going to get into a bad accident today.”

"Did you see that idiot?"

Let’s break it down.

There are excellent drivers capable of maintaining control at warp 5, but they don’t live around here. If they did, they’d have died with a deer in their laps a long time ago. If you’re running late during a snowstorm and get behind a silver haired lady driving 35 mph, you have nobody to blame but yourself for not leaving on time.

Seat belts. They keep you from getting your head run over when you’re thrown out of your rolling SUV because you tried to pass that silver haired lady in a snow storm. Living is cool.

Carry a set of scales, and weigh yourself before getting into the car. If you’re not on the edge of starvation, wait until you get home to eat.

A lot of people try to excuse their accidents by saying they were “blinded by –“ fill in the blank. The sun, oncoming headlights, a brilliant idea, whatever.

We don’t let blind people drive. It’s what used to be called common sense, before attorneys had it banned. So if you’re behind the wheel and something blinds you – STOP DRIVING. Are you worried somebody behind you will be mad because you hit the brakes and pulled over? Fine – let them be mad at your very alive self.

They’re probably driving a four wheel drive, anyway.

 

(Remember, whenever you buy one of our books I can get gloves, and keep my fingers warm enough to write another one.)

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 There's been a lot of ice this winter. Okay, there's a lot of ice every winter, but maybe a little bit more this winter. So, as a public service and because I can't control myself, I wrote a song to teach everyone how to walk on ice or, as the authorities put it, "Walk like an old penguin".

No, seriously.

See? I don't make this stuff up. (Actually, I made up the "old" penguin part, because if you really want to be careful, start worrying about breaking a hip.)

So, remember the Bangles and their song "Walk Like an Egyptian"?

Oh. You don't? Crap. Well, review the song first:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cv6tuzHUuuk

Okay, now that it's in your head, here's "Walk Like an Old Penguin", which is set to the tune of ... well, I guess you know that, now:

Walk Like an Old Penguin

All the ice dropping down the roof

We do the ice dance don’t you know

If we move too quick (oh whey oh)

We’re falling down like a domino.

All the cars slide into a pile

They got insurance on the way

They’re on speed dial (oh whey oh)

More premiums that you’ll have to pay

Foreign cars with the broken bumpers

(whey oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh)

Walk like an old penguin

The business people on their way

They spin around when they hit the ice

Now they can’t move (oh whey oh)

A broken hip, it don’t feel too nice

All of us are so sick of snow

We have to salt and then plow again

When we see them fall (oh whey oh)

We’re walking like an old penguin

All the kids with the sidewalk skate say

(whey oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh)

Walk like an old penguin

 (Sliding instrumental interlude!)

Take short steps on ice, don’t break your back

Arms at your sides, you got the knack

Ice is hard you know (oh whey oh)

So don’t get hit by a Cadillac

Watch the way you step, with flat feet

On your way to the donut shop

Don’t sing and dance (oh whey oh)

You’ll spin out and, take a hard knock

All the witnesses with their phone

Film it first, then call 911

They stayed upright (oh whey oh)

They walk the line like a penguin.

All the docs at the ER door say

(whey oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh)

Walk like an old penguin

Walk like an old penguin

You'll notice Beowulf is walking like an Egyptian ... dog.

It was easy for me, though: I was a kid. I didn't have a paid job, I wasn't a volunteer firefighter yet, and I didn't even have to go to school for a week. Yeah, there was snow shoveling, but we have that now.

We've been spoiled since then, here in northeast Indiana. Sure, there were bad snowstorms, especially in the eighties when it snowed nonstop for eight months of the year. Well, it seemed that way. To compare, the big snowstorm of 2009 dropped 13 inches of snow here. The '78 storm topped out at 30.6 inches, and killed 70 people in Indiana.

So when we tell "Well, in my day" stories about snow--we don't have to exaggerate.

Now we're expecting at least a foot of snow, in two waves over two days, with the Thursday portion accompanied by 30 mph winds. This is bad. And--this is going to sound ironic, coming from me--I don't think people are taking it seriously enough.

Well, some people are.

I went to the store early Monday, and apparently a lot of the panic shopping happened over the weekend. By the time I left an hour later, it looked like the locusts were stripping away all the grain in Oklahoma.

Maybe I'm worrying needlessly. Just the same, I did everything in my power to keep the storm from happening at all. See, I have a reputation for my predictions being wrong. A lot. So when we had good weather all through December (for December), I loudly proclaimed that we would pay for it in January and February.

Okay, so sometimes I'm right. But when forecasts of this particular storm started coming in, I took quick action to stop it:

I loaded up at the store, stuffing our freezer and cupboards with so much food we look like a survivalist compound.

I refilled all my meds, especially the ones that keep me from turning all Jack Torrance every winter.

"Here's J-J-J-J-brrrrrr.......

I topped off the car's gas tank, and made sure it held a snow shovel, blankets, snack bars, abrasives, and a flashlight that actually lights. Also, a little fake hand with the middle finger up, so I won't get frostbite flashing reckless drivers the bird. I did all that despite the fact that I have absolutely no intention of going anywhere for the next week, other than work. Work is three quarters of a mile away--I can, and have, walked there, even in bad weather.

On a related note, I prepared my winter underclothes and my winter over clothes, just in case I do have to walk. People might report a Jupiter-sized suspicious subject in a ski mask, but these days masks are more expected than they used to be.

I made sure the dog has lines going out both the front and back door, so all I have to do is buckle him in. If he wants to go out in that crap--to crap--he's on his own.

"Wait ... what?"

I charged our cell phones, and my Kindle, in case power goes out and we have to burn our books for heat. (Kidding! It would be way too sad reading e-books by the glow of a book fire.)

I studied the weather forecasts. Okay, I studied two dozen forecasts in a three state area. (Hey, I work in the emergency services.) I worried when they all started agreeing with each other. Although bad weather is notoriously difficult to predict, the guys and gals who go to school for that stuff are getting increasingly good at it, even though armchair meteorologists prefer to think otherwise. May the Blue Bird of Unhappiness drop an ice bomb on their foreheads.

After confirming the forecasts, I started shouting the warning out, long and loud, to anyone who passed by the street corner downtown. Okay, on social media. There was no excuse, I declared, for not being prepared, so be aware and take a care--ahem. Sorry.

Why? Because if my predictions are usually wrong, then maybe all that prep would cause mischievous Mother Nature to nudge the storm, one way or another, just enough for us to get six inches and a breeze instead of sixteen inches and a blow. It's the same reason why sports fans hire me to root for the other team. You're welcome, Bengals.

Will it work?

Well ... no. If I thought it would work, it wouldn't. That's how it works. I mean, doesn't work. As I write this it's early Tuesday, and by this time Wednesday it'll be clear we're in for a big time butt-kicking. Remember, the Four Horses of the Snowpocalypse  are Cold, Snow, Wind, and Shattered Hopes.

But that won't stop me from trying.

Everybody complains about the weather forecasts, but nobody wants to get a meteorology degree and see if they can do it better.

It's an axiom. I assume. I'm not sure, let me check ... yep, that's what an axiom is.

Another axiom is, "The weather was always worse when I was a kid!" ... which in my case is literally true. I think I've mentioned before that the summer I was born, several high temperature records were set that are still there today--and the next winter, several low temperatures records were set that are still in place. So you see, I have actual proof that the weather was worse back then.

(By the way, saying I've mentioned something before is still another sign that you're getting older, along with thinking the weather was worse in your youth, and spewing axioms all the time.)

Whenever it looks like we're going to get weather that might effect driving conditions, I post about it on social media, to alert people. There's been push back about that, from people like ... well, me. "Oh, this is nothing! When I was a kid I had to walk fifty miles to school barefoot, with a blizzard every morning and a heat wave every afternoon, carrying my kid brother and a load of firewood on my back! And I was thankful to have that firewood! (Oh, and uphill, both ways.)

When I was a kid, our dogs didn't have fur coats--just a coating of snow. And they were THANKFUL for that snow.

I rode the bus to school. Well, until I was about thirteen or so, then I moved into town and had to walk to school. Even after I got my own car I walked to school, both ways, every day, no matter what the weather.

It was a block and a half.

I don't warn people for the purpose of fearmongering, which is an accusation often made against professional meteorologists. I do it for purely selfish reasons. I'm an emergency telecommunicator (which is what they call dispatchers these days), and the more careful drivers are, the less likely I am to get a 911 call. I'm lazy. These days, if one person slides off into the ditch during morning drive-time, we'll get more 911 calls than a Godzilla appearance would bring in Tokyo.

Granted, Tokyo is probably used to that by now.

Anyway, I think I've figured out a Catch-22 when it comes to this kind of thing. People complain when we warn them that there's only going to be an inch of snow, or a little sleet, yet the next thing you know vehicles are sliding all over the place, like a hockey game but with less violence. It's because they get out of bed and they don't see three feet of snow blowing into drifts bigger than the national debt. "Oh, it's just a couple of flurries--I can get to work okay." 

Thin ice is never a good thing. Except for geese ... it's good for them.

Then they leave for work the same time they usually do, and drive the same speed they usually do, especially if they're in one of those impregnable SUVs, and then --

Bam!

"But it was only a little sleet!"

Yeah, and to quote a favorite movie of mine, Hell is just a sauna. So the Catch-22 is: The better the roads seem, the more likely drivers are to get into trouble.

So I'll keep warning people not only when things are bad, but when things might be bad, because it's the right thing to do. And if people want to ignore warnings ... well, being ignorant often seems to be accompanied by a certain amount of luck, so maybe they'll get by.

SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK

I love January! Said no one, ever.

Okay, some people actually do love winter, which just goes to show you: Northern Indiana needs better mental health screening. I used to take part in winter activities, but I was young then, and young people just haven’t learned that being miserable isn’t an adventure.

When I was a kid, I loved sledding, snowball fights, and not having to pay the utility bills. Well, I liked them … I never did warm up all that much to winter. Then, one day when I was about fourteen, I came in from building a snow block fort to discover my hands and toes had themselves become snow blocks. My cheeks had taken on a white, Frosty-like sheen.

My face cheeks. Get your mind out of my insulated underwear.

Thawing out involved a process not unlike being stabbed with a thousand white-hot pins and needles, and from that time on I couldn’t stay in cold weather for long before the affected parts started to feel like they’d been shotgunned full of rock salt. It took all the fun out of it.

Today, my favorite wintertime activities involve a book and a cup of hot chocolate. So January does have an advantage: I can catch up on my reading. But that doesn’t really make up for the gas bill.