Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Snowflake Apocalypse

Have you heard in breathless terms, the forecasted complete and utter collapse of Western civilization due to the impending 1-2 inches of snow we may receive within the next few days? Winter weather warning/watch/whatever. This cataclysm will force us all to chop the furniture for firewood and to gnaw on nail clippings for nutrients. Since this calamity will surely destroy all life on Earth, consider this my last entry for a while. We must wait until some protoplasm again evolves from the remaining primordial ooze and evolves into Al Gore, to re-invent the internet connections. To hasten things along, I recommend we just skip over the dinosaurs and that odd branch that ultimately developed into troglodytes like Jerry Falwell and James Dobson. Anyway, heed the weatherman’s warnings, the end is nigh.

I’ve heard these same weather reports for the past 10-15 years now. One or two inches of snow signifies a disaster on a level that no snow plow can defeat. When I was a youth, men were real men, women were real women, red meat and butter were good for you and the drugs and alcohol flowed freely. Yee-haw! But now, we must prepare for the end of Western Civilization as we know it, and get ready for a Road Warrior-esque future, where we live like savages but somehow drive ridiculously large and garish automobiles. I’ll work on getting my minivan all pimped out. I’ll remove the panel siding and put on huge, unnecessary furry raccoon tails. I’ll put in chrome pipes that don’t lead anywhere, too. Of course I’ll freeze my ass off, because this is Kentucky in the winter and not the desert outback of Australia. Or perhaps it will more of a future like Kevin Costner’s disastrous vehicle “The Postman”, where we all live in fear of a gang that talks a good game but can’t defeat a bunch of adolescents who have decided to fight back the only way they know how: BY DELIVERING THE MAIL!!!

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Weather Service downgraded the apocalyptic storm headed our way today to an "advisory" instead of "warning". Whew! Western Civilization has dodged a bullet and lives for another day.

I'm disappointed. I was just signing up members of my gang that will fight for control this arctic wasteland. I didn't want to be the leader, because if some unkillable Mad Max hero type shows up, then I'd die in a violent episode. I'd rather be a lieutenant taking scouting reports to see if we want to team up with another gang or should we just raid them for food and women. If we team up, would it be a partnership, a joint venture, a merger or an acquisition? I'd be Director of Synergy Facilitation. I'd earn my gang moniker when we need people to just shovel snow. I'd be "The Plow". No?

Anyway, crisis averted. Armageddeon must wait. If it does happen soon and you want in to my gang, let me know via carrier pigeon or smoke signal. Using the drum to say "Hey dude, let me in to your gang" sounds too much like Led Zepplin's "Rock & Roll".

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