Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God! There is Going to be a Big Snowstorm in Chicago Tomorrow. Oh My God what the Fuck do we do!?!?!?

I personally am probably going to douse myself with lighter fluid, set myself on fire, and throw myself from our balcony. I am sure as shit not going to sit around and wait for 20 inches of snow to hit and try to survive that calamity. What if all the snow catches on fire and the whole city burns to the ground as everyone writhes in skin-melting pain? What if the snow crushes everyone to death under it’s own weight? What if all the stores run out of provisions and we have to survive for 8 hours on the food that is already in our homes? I’m not eating the canned fucking beans! Who the fuck could survive on that? What if the snows starts stabbing people to death? Did you fucking think of that? Did you? Listen, a large snowfall total is nothing to sit around and wait for with your thumb up your ass and your mouth agape like some kind of obese West Virginian. An impending snowstorm is time to get your fucking ass to the grocery store and start fighting over provisions that you’ve never used before in your life, with little old women who are convinced that FDR is going to have to send a platoon of Public Works Administration workers to your house in May when the snow melts to retrieve all the dead bodies. It is time. To fucking. Panic. All the food you usually eat day-in, day-out, and is currently residing in your fridge and pantry…..that shit ain’t gonna fly if there is more than a foot of snow on the ground. You simply cannot eat a chicken breast with rice pilaf and broccoli during inclimate winter weather. You need milk, you need flour, you need bread, and you better fucking believe you need eggs. Lots of eggs. If necessary elbow someone in the head if they attempt to take the last of the eggs. While waiting for the bus this morning next to Dominick’s, I saw some of the local crack head alcoholics (that is what we call a “dual threat”) stocking up on extra 22oz pounders of Steel Reserve and cigarettes. And I don’t blame them. You cannot sit around your snowed-in Chicago Housing Authority hovel, sobering up, waiting for the city to pay Mexicans to shovel a path over to Robbie the Rock-Dealer’s house. You’ve got to maintain a buzz somehow. Those are the planners and the survivors. I don’t have the fortitude for that. You are going to find me, when all this snow melts, in the corner of my condo rocking back and forth crying in a pool of my own excrement.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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