Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 20
March 28, 2022
I'm Allergic to Oscar Slaps
At some point, as I was cleaning carpets Saturday, I raised some kind of allergen in the dust that laid me out like getting punched by Will Smith.
Don't worry, I'm not going to dwell for too long on the infamous Oscar slap--just a little.
I'm allergic to dust, or something in dust, or maybe I'm allergic to dusting. In any case, our house had cats living in it for many years, and I'm highly allergic to them. It's not easy getting dander out of every nook and cranny. I don't even know where the crannies are. (I'm also allergic to dogs, but sometimes you just have to suck it up, as in sucking dander into your lungs.)
I have a lot of allergies, but for some reason dust is the worst ... maybe it has all the other allergens in it? I should wear a mask, but I'm a man, and men are stupid. So for the second half of the weekend I laid on the couch, in a medicinal stupor, and watched a marathon of How the Universe Works.
The great thing about the weekend is that I didn't watch the news for three days (or the weather, which pretty much spoke for itself). But I didn't stay completely away from social media, which is sad.
This explains why I had a dream, narrated by Mike Rowe, in which Jupiter insulted Saturn's rings, so Earth crossed through the asteroid belt and slapped Jupiter right in its spot.
For those of you who, like me, don't really care, at the Oscar ceremony Sunday Chris Rock made fun of Smith's wife's baldness, which is caused by a medical condition. Smith then smacked Rock and said, "Welcome to Earth".
Or something like that. I don't watch the Oscars after my doctor advised me to cut down on stress-inducing political speeches. Besides, I haven't watched the movie that won Best Picture since 2002.
You know, there should be an awards show for low-brow fans, like me. Best Picture, 1977: Smokey and the Bandit! (Actually, that year it was Rocky--which I did watch, so never mind.)
Seeing the reaction to the Will-Rock incident made me realize I truly am from an older generation. If someone got up in front of a national audience and made fun of my wife's medical condition, I'd break their nose. The speaker, not the national audience. I recognize this is hypocritical, considering I'm such a fan of Don Rickles, although in my defense Mr. Personality never made fun of my wife.
But it's the 21st Century, and although you can't swing a cat without offending someone (which would offend someone), apparently it's no longer allowed to be offended on behalf of a loved one. "Violence never solved anything!" Which isn't true, but it's a nice thought.
But I'm a man, and men are stupid. In any case, Emily doesn't need my help: She could punch out both Christ Rock and Will Smith. I've seen her push around horses.
Although she never made fun of them.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Don't worry, I'm not going to dwell for too long on the infamous Oscar slap--just a little.
I'm allergic to dust, or something in dust, or maybe I'm allergic to dusting. In any case, our house had cats living in it for many years, and I'm highly allergic to them. It's not easy getting dander out of every nook and cranny. I don't even know where the crannies are. (I'm also allergic to dogs, but sometimes you just have to suck it up, as in sucking dander into your lungs.)
I have a lot of allergies, but for some reason dust is the worst ... maybe it has all the other allergens in it? I should wear a mask, but I'm a man, and men are stupid. So for the second half of the weekend I laid on the couch, in a medicinal stupor, and watched a marathon of How the Universe Works.
The great thing about the weekend is that I didn't watch the news for three days (or the weather, which pretty much spoke for itself). But I didn't stay completely away from social media, which is sad.
This explains why I had a dream, narrated by Mike Rowe, in which Jupiter insulted Saturn's rings, so Earth crossed through the asteroid belt and slapped Jupiter right in its spot.
For those of you who, like me, don't really care, at the Oscar ceremony Sunday Chris Rock made fun of Smith's wife's baldness, which is caused by a medical condition. Smith then smacked Rock and said, "Welcome to Earth".
Or something like that. I don't watch the Oscars after my doctor advised me to cut down on stress-inducing political speeches. Besides, I haven't watched the movie that won Best Picture since 2002.
You know, there should be an awards show for low-brow fans, like me. Best Picture, 1977: Smokey and the Bandit! (Actually, that year it was Rocky--which I did watch, so never mind.)
Seeing the reaction to the Will-Rock incident made me realize I truly am from an older generation. If someone got up in front of a national audience and made fun of my wife's medical condition, I'd break their nose. The speaker, not the national audience. I recognize this is hypocritical, considering I'm such a fan of Don Rickles, although in my defense Mr. Personality never made fun of my wife.
But it's the 21st Century, and although you can't swing a cat without offending someone (which would offend someone), apparently it's no longer allowed to be offended on behalf of a loved one. "Violence never solved anything!" Which isn't true, but it's a nice thought.
But I'm a man, and men are stupid. In any case, Emily doesn't need my help: She could punch out both Christ Rock and Will Smith. I've seen her push around horses.
Although she never made fun of them.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
March 22, 2022
Movie review: The Batman
Here's the strange thing: While The Batman is clearly a great movie, it's still not my favorite Batman movie. Of course, The Caped Crusader has been getting darker and darker every time he's appeared on screen since the 60s version. That's not surprising--especially with DC Comics movies, which for the most part still haven't figured out that dash of humor thing.
I like my Batman about halfway between the camp of the TV show and the relentless pain and drama of the most recent movies: My favorite was the 1989 version. It's probably no coincidence that the first Michael Keaton Batman movie also gave us my favorite Joker, in Jack Nicholson. But that's all a matter of taste, of course.
In this version Batman is just two years into his crime fighting career, and already questioning whether he's doing any good in a crime-ridden Gotham City. Most of the police hate him (with the exception of Detective Jim Gordon, well played by Jeffrey Wright). His seemingly only employee, Alfred, warns of the Wayne fortune's impending collapse, and now a serial killer is sending the Batman notes with strange riddles along with the bodies.
One of Batman's nicknames is "The World's Greatest Detective", a part of his persona often ignored in screen versions. But this movie is more a detective story (and psychological thriller) than a superhero flick, and we get to see Batman using his powers of observation and detective skills as much as his fighting abilities and cool devices. He allies with Gordon and the enigmatic Selena Kyle (Zoe Kravitz) to find answers he might end up not wanting to know.
It slows the movie down compared to most superhero moves. In fact, Batman often resembles more of a mix of James Bond and Sherlock Holmes, as he follows clues and questions suspects.
I'm not a fan of making superhero movies more "realistic" ... they're superhero movies. In particular I'd like the villains to be at least a little bit more like the originals, although you can't fault the casting (including Colin Farrell, John Turturro, and Paul Dano.) Many were surprised at how good Robert Pattinson is as Batman, but not me--I remember the same criticism of comedy actor Michael Keaton, who's still one of my favorites to play the role. As Bruce Wayne, not so much--Pattinson plays him as a single minded and perpetually downbeat mess--although, to be fair, that's exactly what the character would be like at this point in his life.
So there it is: I found The Batman too bleak and grounded for my taste, and yet it's a brilliant film, evidence that "comic book movies" have grown up. I hear there might be a TV series spinoff from this movie, and yes: I'd watch it.
Make sure you wear an adult diaper, though--a lot gets packed into a bladder-filling three hours.
My Score:
Entertainment value: 3 1/2 M&Ms out of four. From the fights and chases to the characters and Gotham City itself, it's a treat--although it's dark both figuratively and literally.
Oscar Potential: 3 M&Ms. It should be four out of four--The Batman is full of Oscar level work.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
I like my Batman about halfway between the camp of the TV show and the relentless pain and drama of the most recent movies: My favorite was the 1989 version. It's probably no coincidence that the first Michael Keaton Batman movie also gave us my favorite Joker, in Jack Nicholson. But that's all a matter of taste, of course.
In this version Batman is just two years into his crime fighting career, and already questioning whether he's doing any good in a crime-ridden Gotham City. Most of the police hate him (with the exception of Detective Jim Gordon, well played by Jeffrey Wright). His seemingly only employee, Alfred, warns of the Wayne fortune's impending collapse, and now a serial killer is sending the Batman notes with strange riddles along with the bodies.
One of Batman's nicknames is "The World's Greatest Detective", a part of his persona often ignored in screen versions. But this movie is more a detective story (and psychological thriller) than a superhero flick, and we get to see Batman using his powers of observation and detective skills as much as his fighting abilities and cool devices. He allies with Gordon and the enigmatic Selena Kyle (Zoe Kravitz) to find answers he might end up not wanting to know.
It slows the movie down compared to most superhero moves. In fact, Batman often resembles more of a mix of James Bond and Sherlock Holmes, as he follows clues and questions suspects.
I'm not a fan of making superhero movies more "realistic" ... they're superhero movies. In particular I'd like the villains to be at least a little bit more like the originals, although you can't fault the casting (including Colin Farrell, John Turturro, and Paul Dano.) Many were surprised at how good Robert Pattinson is as Batman, but not me--I remember the same criticism of comedy actor Michael Keaton, who's still one of my favorites to play the role. As Bruce Wayne, not so much--Pattinson plays him as a single minded and perpetually downbeat mess--although, to be fair, that's exactly what the character would be like at this point in his life.
So there it is: I found The Batman too bleak and grounded for my taste, and yet it's a brilliant film, evidence that "comic book movies" have grown up. I hear there might be a TV series spinoff from this movie, and yes: I'd watch it.
Make sure you wear an adult diaper, though--a lot gets packed into a bladder-filling three hours.
My Score:
Entertainment value: 3 1/2 M&Ms out of four. From the fights and chases to the characters and Gotham City itself, it's a treat--although it's dark both figuratively and literally.
Oscar Potential: 3 M&Ms. It should be four out of four--The Batman is full of Oscar level work.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
March 15, 2022
Scan The Sky For Scary Storms
The Governor proclaimed March 13-19 to be Tornado Preparedness Week here in Indiana. He used to call it Tornado Awareness Week, but a conspiracy theory emerged that without awareness we might not have noticed tornadoes in the first place, and so the governor actually caused the problem. Typical government.
The Governor's Office has denied this. However, they changed the name anyway.
The biggest problem with hazardous weather is that it's hazardous. Otherwise we'd call it Non-Hazardous Weather, and then who cares? But since it is (hazardous), there are certain preparations you should make. Oh, they won't make the weather less hazardous, but there's something to be said for survival.
First, develop a plan. Your plan could be to prearrange your funeral and buy a plot, which does have the advantage of being good for any natural disaster, except a zombie outbreak. Or you could assemble a disaster supply kit, with such things as food and water, medicine, booze, a little cash in case you forget the booze, and so on. A first aid kit is a good idea, along with a crescent wrench to shut off the gas after a tornado. Your home's gas, I mean. Also, have something to keep the kids busy, otherwise you might need the first aid kit after using the crescent wrench on them.
You should also have fresh batteries for your NOAA All Hazards radio, which surely you have. Or, you could just have fresh batteries, and nothing to put them into. This is poor pre-planning. At least you changed the batteries on your smoke and carbon monoxide detectors.
Didn't you?
Indiana averages around two dozen tornadoes a year, but in 2011 we saw 72. Since the peak season begins in April, it's possible for a tornado to plow through a partially melted snow drift, then into a brush fire, producing the feared Snow/Fire Twister. Soon to be an original movie on the SyFy Channel.
All the more reason to be prepared, and that means being alert during a watch (which means severe weather may develop), or a warning (which means scream a little, pee down your leg, but get to shelter).
Shelter is the basement, or at least an interior room on the lowest floor, or you could pretend you're in the army and dig a foxhole really fast. Wrap up in blankets or heavy coats, or possibly pile your children and pets on top of you. Stay away from windows! In addition to broken glass, your neighbors could see you piling up your children and pets.
In cars or mobile homes, oh, boy--you picked the wrong place to be. Go find a better place, or lie flat in your car under your kids and pets, and pretend it's a new amusement park ride. Or, if all else fails, lay down in the nearest ditch, cover your head, and ... oh, who am I kidding? You're doomed. Lay on your back and check out the view, it should be amazing.
In all seriousness, tornadoes are amazingly bad, especially at night. Take it from an expert, which means someone other than me. There's the National Weather Service:
https://www.weather.gov/ind/SevereWxWeek
Which is the national service that deals with weather, and that's good enough for me.
Then there's the State of Indiana, which has been dealing with weather since 1816:
https://www.in.gov/dhs/get-prepared/n...
Go check it out, and do what you can to be prepared. Not being ready for a disaster can be disastrous.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
The Governor's Office has denied this. However, they changed the name anyway.
The biggest problem with hazardous weather is that it's hazardous. Otherwise we'd call it Non-Hazardous Weather, and then who cares? But since it is (hazardous), there are certain preparations you should make. Oh, they won't make the weather less hazardous, but there's something to be said for survival.
First, develop a plan. Your plan could be to prearrange your funeral and buy a plot, which does have the advantage of being good for any natural disaster, except a zombie outbreak. Or you could assemble a disaster supply kit, with such things as food and water, medicine, booze, a little cash in case you forget the booze, and so on. A first aid kit is a good idea, along with a crescent wrench to shut off the gas after a tornado. Your home's gas, I mean. Also, have something to keep the kids busy, otherwise you might need the first aid kit after using the crescent wrench on them.
You should also have fresh batteries for your NOAA All Hazards radio, which surely you have. Or, you could just have fresh batteries, and nothing to put them into. This is poor pre-planning. At least you changed the batteries on your smoke and carbon monoxide detectors.
Didn't you?
Indiana averages around two dozen tornadoes a year, but in 2011 we saw 72. Since the peak season begins in April, it's possible for a tornado to plow through a partially melted snow drift, then into a brush fire, producing the feared Snow/Fire Twister. Soon to be an original movie on the SyFy Channel.
All the more reason to be prepared, and that means being alert during a watch (which means severe weather may develop), or a warning (which means scream a little, pee down your leg, but get to shelter).
Shelter is the basement, or at least an interior room on the lowest floor, or you could pretend you're in the army and dig a foxhole really fast. Wrap up in blankets or heavy coats, or possibly pile your children and pets on top of you. Stay away from windows! In addition to broken glass, your neighbors could see you piling up your children and pets.
In cars or mobile homes, oh, boy--you picked the wrong place to be. Go find a better place, or lie flat in your car under your kids and pets, and pretend it's a new amusement park ride. Or, if all else fails, lay down in the nearest ditch, cover your head, and ... oh, who am I kidding? You're doomed. Lay on your back and check out the view, it should be amazing.
In all seriousness, tornadoes are amazingly bad, especially at night. Take it from an expert, which means someone other than me. There's the National Weather Service:
https://www.weather.gov/ind/SevereWxWeek
Which is the national service that deals with weather, and that's good enough for me.
Then there's the State of Indiana, which has been dealing with weather since 1816:
https://www.in.gov/dhs/get-prepared/n...
Go check it out, and do what you can to be prepared. Not being ready for a disaster can be disastrous.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
March 5, 2022
A Tin Tenth Anniversary
It's our tenth wedding anniversary!
And I'm working. Twelve hour shifts. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
It's a massive case of epic fail, and I can only say I was going to take the weekend off, but things happened (to other people, this time). Our actual celebration is going to be in a couple of weeks, when I did manage to get the weekend off. I have big plans!
I have no plans. Who am I kidding?
Oh, I did a little thinking ahead. I looked up what the traditional gift was for a tenth anniversary, and I found the traditional gift was, traditionally, tin or aluminum.
Huh?
Well, I could buy her an aluminum mobile home, but it would just get sucked up by a tornado sometime in May. But thinking of tornadoes reminded me of someone I know who might have advice on the subject.
His name is Nick Chopper, but ever since a series of rather horrendous accidents, during which his body was replaced, bit by bit, by metal, he goes by The Tin Woodman. He's had a lot of adventures since then, but now he lives in the Winkie Country of Oz, where he built a castle made completely out of tin.
What I'm saying is, he knows a lot about tin. Aluminum, maybe not.
"Hey, Nick", I said. "Can I ax you a question?"
Nick smiled, kind of, which made his face squeak a little. "I'm afraid my friend the Scarecrow beat you to that joke. Several times."
Just my luck. I outlined my problem: upcoming tenth anniversary, stereotypical helpless male, so on. "Can you give me any advice on gifts?"
"Well, you could have her nickel plated."
"I what?"
We were speaking by Magic Picture (long story), so I could only see his upper half, but I had the feeling he was crossed his legs. Can tin do that? "I had myself nickle plated some time ago. It helps preserve my body, especially the joints. They're made of steel, you know."
"Oh. That explains--"
"The rusting, exactly." Nick leaned forward. "Between you and me, I'm only tin coated. Don't tell."
"Oh, of course. But Emily wouldn't want to be nickel plated, being, as you might say, a meat person."
"I see your point. Maybe you could make her a tin suit of armor? It wouldn't stand up in a real battle, but it would move people out of her path when she's shopping."
"She wouldn't like the noise."
"How about giving her an extra heart? You probably have all sorts of hearts just laying around, in the outside world."
"Well, there are plenty that don't get used out here. Let me think it over. Meanwhile, remind Dorothy she still owes me ten bucks for that book I sent her ... and $923.50 for shipping."
Later I talked to some other people from Oz, and the prevailing opinion was that I should get her an emerald studded ball gown. See, they don't use money in Oz, plus they have a lot of emeralds. And they throw a lot of dances. But I think that might be as bit out of my price range.
I did finally find her a gift, something I think she'll appreciate, something that--I'm not going to identify. I'm no dummy.
Well, not usually.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
And I'm working. Twelve hour shifts. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
It's a massive case of epic fail, and I can only say I was going to take the weekend off, but things happened (to other people, this time). Our actual celebration is going to be in a couple of weeks, when I did manage to get the weekend off. I have big plans!
I have no plans. Who am I kidding?
Oh, I did a little thinking ahead. I looked up what the traditional gift was for a tenth anniversary, and I found the traditional gift was, traditionally, tin or aluminum.
Huh?
Well, I could buy her an aluminum mobile home, but it would just get sucked up by a tornado sometime in May. But thinking of tornadoes reminded me of someone I know who might have advice on the subject.
His name is Nick Chopper, but ever since a series of rather horrendous accidents, during which his body was replaced, bit by bit, by metal, he goes by The Tin Woodman. He's had a lot of adventures since then, but now he lives in the Winkie Country of Oz, where he built a castle made completely out of tin.
What I'm saying is, he knows a lot about tin. Aluminum, maybe not.
"Hey, Nick", I said. "Can I ax you a question?"
Nick smiled, kind of, which made his face squeak a little. "I'm afraid my friend the Scarecrow beat you to that joke. Several times."
Just my luck. I outlined my problem: upcoming tenth anniversary, stereotypical helpless male, so on. "Can you give me any advice on gifts?"
"Well, you could have her nickel plated."
"I what?"
We were speaking by Magic Picture (long story), so I could only see his upper half, but I had the feeling he was crossed his legs. Can tin do that? "I had myself nickle plated some time ago. It helps preserve my body, especially the joints. They're made of steel, you know."
"Oh. That explains--"
"The rusting, exactly." Nick leaned forward. "Between you and me, I'm only tin coated. Don't tell."
"Oh, of course. But Emily wouldn't want to be nickel plated, being, as you might say, a meat person."
"I see your point. Maybe you could make her a tin suit of armor? It wouldn't stand up in a real battle, but it would move people out of her path when she's shopping."
"She wouldn't like the noise."
"How about giving her an extra heart? You probably have all sorts of hearts just laying around, in the outside world."
"Well, there are plenty that don't get used out here. Let me think it over. Meanwhile, remind Dorothy she still owes me ten bucks for that book I sent her ... and $923.50 for shipping."
Later I talked to some other people from Oz, and the prevailing opinion was that I should get her an emerald studded ball gown. See, they don't use money in Oz, plus they have a lot of emeralds. And they throw a lot of dances. But I think that might be as bit out of my price range.
I did finally find her a gift, something I think she'll appreciate, something that--I'm not going to identify. I'm no dummy.
Well, not usually.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
February 18, 2022
parody song: Walk Like an Old Penguin
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. 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=Cv6tu...
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
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
No, seriously. 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=Cv6tu...
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
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
February 14, 2022
Former Olympic Events Leave Fans Confused
I haven't seen a lot of this year's Olympics, because I had my hands over my eyes most of the time. Are there always that many crashes, or didn't I notice before? And why isn't someone giving those people tickets for traveling 70 mph on two sticks? And no way are there safety belts on those sleds.
Even one of the curling guys fell over.
So instead of writing about how my bones hurt just watching, here's my 2014 look at some past Olympic sports that are no longer in the games. Yes, it's a rerun--give me a break, this is my 28th Olympics.
Several years ago, baseball and softball were pulled from competition. The American women dominated in softball, while in baseball Americans … well, they only got three medals in five tries. The Cuban team grabbed the gold. There’s not much else to do in Cuba, except play baseball and stare longingly toward Florida, where senior citizens have high speed internet and all-you-can-eat buffets.
Lacrosse was a medal event—in 1904 and 1908. It involves people in facemasks hitting their balls with big fly swatters. It died out in the early 1900’s because only the Canadians, British, and Americans were willing to take the punishment; former lacrosse players are now employed as dog catchers and butterfly collectors.
Basque pelota was only a medal event in 1900, because nobody could figure out how to pronounce it. It’s played on a court with a ball, sometimes using a racket, but sometimes not.
In other words, it’s handball. If they’d called it that, basque pelota-ites would be on Wheaties boxes.
Tandem cycling was popular in the Olympics from 1920-72. It’s being considered again with new, more interesting rules: The guy in front steers, while the guy in back can lash out at other competitors with lacrosse sticks. It’s now a favorite of retired hockey players.
In 1948 winter pentathlon was put on as a demonstration sport, and consisted of downhill skiing, cross-country skiing, shooting, fencing, and horse riding.
All together. In the same event.
Sweden, which remained more or less neutral through World War II, had a whole army of young men just itching to shoot something: They swept all the winter pentathlon medals. However, the sport was discontinued after ski-clad Swedes on horseback shot all the competitors’ horses while jumping over the fencing.
Motorboarding--and I initially thought this was something altogether different--was tried in 1908. It ended with only one boat finishing in each of three races. It turns out the Swedes used their winter pentathlon rifles to shoot up the other boat engines, leading officials to change to rowing.
Polo was a favorite Olympic event in the early 1900’s, but it was canceled after the Swedes sent in their entry forms.
The Olympics also tried an obstacle course … involving swimmers. Competitors had to climb over a pole, go over a row of boats, and then swim under another row of boats. Luckily they had an excess of boats left over from the motorboat races.
Speaking of swimming, in 1984 they tried solo synchronized swimming.
Think about it.
Then there’s the one Olympic sport I actually participated in: Tug of war. Not in the Olympics, but we won, and didn’t even have to borrow Swedish rifles to do it. Between 1900 and 1920 the sport was dominated by Great Britain, which sent teams of police officers. And remember, back then their cops were unarmed. Good thing the Swedes didn’t have a team.
Distance plunging would have been interesting … or not. Athletes would dive into the pool and coast underwater, without moving.
That’s it. The winner is the one who drifted the longest in sixty seconds, or when they floated to the surface, whichever came first. An American won the gold, although it should be noted that this competition happened only once, in the 1904 St. Louis Olympics. It should also be noted that only Americans competed.
I’m not sure how they could tell whether the athlete was winning, or drowning.
Also at St. Louis, another US competitor did an impressive job winning gold in a sport that gives this old gym class hater nightmares: the rope climb. Why was George Eyser so impressive? Because he had a wooden leg.
In 1906 they tried the sport of pistol dueling. No, it wasn’t won by a Swede. It wasn’t really dueling, either: Competitors shot at a dummy dressed in a frock coat, and by dummy I don’t mean the guy who planned the Sochi games. It’s a good thing they cleared up how they did it, because I was thinking this would be one sport where the silver and bronze medals were awarded posthumously.
Finally, here’s a sport they tried just once, at the 1900 Paris Olympics:
Live pigeon shooting.
When the feathers cleared, a Belgian named Leon de Lunden got the gold for downing 21 birds, none of which had a say in the matter. Then he celebrated with a steak dinner.
Once the onlookers got a look at the mess left behind, they decided the Swedes weren’t so bad.
Even one of the curling guys fell over.
So instead of writing about how my bones hurt just watching, here's my 2014 look at some past Olympic sports that are no longer in the games. Yes, it's a rerun--give me a break, this is my 28th Olympics.
Several years ago, baseball and softball were pulled from competition. The American women dominated in softball, while in baseball Americans … well, they only got three medals in five tries. The Cuban team grabbed the gold. There’s not much else to do in Cuba, except play baseball and stare longingly toward Florida, where senior citizens have high speed internet and all-you-can-eat buffets.
Lacrosse was a medal event—in 1904 and 1908. It involves people in facemasks hitting their balls with big fly swatters. It died out in the early 1900’s because only the Canadians, British, and Americans were willing to take the punishment; former lacrosse players are now employed as dog catchers and butterfly collectors.
Basque pelota was only a medal event in 1900, because nobody could figure out how to pronounce it. It’s played on a court with a ball, sometimes using a racket, but sometimes not.
In other words, it’s handball. If they’d called it that, basque pelota-ites would be on Wheaties boxes.
Tandem cycling was popular in the Olympics from 1920-72. It’s being considered again with new, more interesting rules: The guy in front steers, while the guy in back can lash out at other competitors with lacrosse sticks. It’s now a favorite of retired hockey players.
In 1948 winter pentathlon was put on as a demonstration sport, and consisted of downhill skiing, cross-country skiing, shooting, fencing, and horse riding.
All together. In the same event.
Sweden, which remained more or less neutral through World War II, had a whole army of young men just itching to shoot something: They swept all the winter pentathlon medals. However, the sport was discontinued after ski-clad Swedes on horseback shot all the competitors’ horses while jumping over the fencing.
Motorboarding--and I initially thought this was something altogether different--was tried in 1908. It ended with only one boat finishing in each of three races. It turns out the Swedes used their winter pentathlon rifles to shoot up the other boat engines, leading officials to change to rowing.
Polo was a favorite Olympic event in the early 1900’s, but it was canceled after the Swedes sent in their entry forms.
The Olympics also tried an obstacle course … involving swimmers. Competitors had to climb over a pole, go over a row of boats, and then swim under another row of boats. Luckily they had an excess of boats left over from the motorboat races.
Speaking of swimming, in 1984 they tried solo synchronized swimming.
Think about it.
Then there’s the one Olympic sport I actually participated in: Tug of war. Not in the Olympics, but we won, and didn’t even have to borrow Swedish rifles to do it. Between 1900 and 1920 the sport was dominated by Great Britain, which sent teams of police officers. And remember, back then their cops were unarmed. Good thing the Swedes didn’t have a team.
Distance plunging would have been interesting … or not. Athletes would dive into the pool and coast underwater, without moving.
That’s it. The winner is the one who drifted the longest in sixty seconds, or when they floated to the surface, whichever came first. An American won the gold, although it should be noted that this competition happened only once, in the 1904 St. Louis Olympics. It should also be noted that only Americans competed.
I’m not sure how they could tell whether the athlete was winning, or drowning.
Also at St. Louis, another US competitor did an impressive job winning gold in a sport that gives this old gym class hater nightmares: the rope climb. Why was George Eyser so impressive? Because he had a wooden leg.
In 1906 they tried the sport of pistol dueling. No, it wasn’t won by a Swede. It wasn’t really dueling, either: Competitors shot at a dummy dressed in a frock coat, and by dummy I don’t mean the guy who planned the Sochi games. It’s a good thing they cleared up how they did it, because I was thinking this would be one sport where the silver and bronze medals were awarded posthumously.
Finally, here’s a sport they tried just once, at the 1900 Paris Olympics:
Live pigeon shooting.
When the feathers cleared, a Belgian named Leon de Lunden got the gold for downing 21 birds, none of which had a say in the matter. Then he celebrated with a steak dinner.
Once the onlookers got a look at the mess left behind, they decided the Swedes weren’t so bad.
February 10, 2022
We Got Snow Spoiled
Okay, so, we survived the Snowstorm of '22.
That just isn't as catchy as the Blizzard of '78, but it never quite got to blizzard status--it was just a regular snowstorm. At least, it was compared to weather in the old days. You know the story: We walked to school five miles every day, uphill both ways, dodging polar bears and wading through ten foot drifts in the morning, then in the afternoon using our ten deep pile of school books as shade against the 102 degree sun. Plus we painted our feet black, because we couldn't afford shoes.
And we were happy to have that paint.
Cars? We didn't have cars. Our parents rode dinosaurs, and not those big ones either--they had to ride those little, chicken size ones, which was fine with them because they needed the eggs.
The story gets better every year. When I tell it to my grandkids, I'm going to add murder hornets and clowns.
But in recent years we've been, shall we say, spoiled. I joined the fire department in 1980, and for the next ten years our name for twelve inches of snow was "a good start". One year we got a snowstorm like last week's every weekend for the whole winter. This idea of seeing what was under the snow between November and March was inconceivable. I remember during the April grass fire season when we had to walk around snow drifts to get to the burning grass.
I don't miss it.
The dog loved this. He'd go lay in the snow, and I had to make him come back inside. But me? I hate cold, and I hate the short days. I guess the snow would be okay if it was warm and the days were long, but that's not how it works. It doesn't help that my old frostbite injuries are acting up so much I started losing the use of my hands while shoveling, even with gloves on.
I didn't always feel that way. When I was young, I'd use a snow day as an excuse to go out and play in the snow. Maybe I'm suffering a form of PTSD, because doing that is how I got the frostbite.
So, suddenly a winter wonderland is a winter torture land.
Like everyone else, I got complacent, so this storm became the 2000's equivalent of the '78 blizzard. Snow, wind ... and the cold. If it was a country, it would be Iceland. If it was a Civil War Battle, it would be Cold Harbor. If it was a city, it would be Coldwater. If it was a 90s rapper, it would be Vanilla Ice. If it was a rap song I've never actually heard, it would be Ice Cold.
If it was revenge, it would be best served cold.
The weather got so nasty, I took all these pictures from within twenty feet of my home. I got lucky and was on days off during the worst of the storm, and didn't otherwise have to go out, thanks to four appointments getting canceled. It gave me a taste of what it must be like to just stay inside and wait it out, and I gotta tell you ...
I enjoyed that. I enjoyed it like ... ice cream.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
That just isn't as catchy as the Blizzard of '78, but it never quite got to blizzard status--it was just a regular snowstorm. At least, it was compared to weather in the old days. You know the story: We walked to school five miles every day, uphill both ways, dodging polar bears and wading through ten foot drifts in the morning, then in the afternoon using our ten deep pile of school books as shade against the 102 degree sun. Plus we painted our feet black, because we couldn't afford shoes.
And we were happy to have that paint.
Cars? We didn't have cars. Our parents rode dinosaurs, and not those big ones either--they had to ride those little, chicken size ones, which was fine with them because they needed the eggs.
The story gets better every year. When I tell it to my grandkids, I'm going to add murder hornets and clowns.
But in recent years we've been, shall we say, spoiled. I joined the fire department in 1980, and for the next ten years our name for twelve inches of snow was "a good start". One year we got a snowstorm like last week's every weekend for the whole winter. This idea of seeing what was under the snow between November and March was inconceivable. I remember during the April grass fire season when we had to walk around snow drifts to get to the burning grass.
I don't miss it.
The dog loved this. He'd go lay in the snow, and I had to make him come back inside. But me? I hate cold, and I hate the short days. I guess the snow would be okay if it was warm and the days were long, but that's not how it works. It doesn't help that my old frostbite injuries are acting up so much I started losing the use of my hands while shoveling, even with gloves on.
I didn't always feel that way. When I was young, I'd use a snow day as an excuse to go out and play in the snow. Maybe I'm suffering a form of PTSD, because doing that is how I got the frostbite.
So, suddenly a winter wonderland is a winter torture land.
Like everyone else, I got complacent, so this storm became the 2000's equivalent of the '78 blizzard. Snow, wind ... and the cold. If it was a country, it would be Iceland. If it was a Civil War Battle, it would be Cold Harbor. If it was a city, it would be Coldwater. If it was a 90s rapper, it would be Vanilla Ice. If it was a rap song I've never actually heard, it would be Ice Cold.
If it was revenge, it would be best served cold.
The weather got so nasty, I took all these pictures from within twenty feet of my home. I got lucky and was on days off during the worst of the storm, and didn't otherwise have to go out, thanks to four appointments getting canceled. It gave me a taste of what it must be like to just stay inside and wait it out, and I gotta tell you ...
I enjoyed that. I enjoyed it like ... ice cream.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
February 6, 2022
New Review for Hoosier Hysterical
We got a new review of "Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All"!
Spoiler alert: They liked it. (If they hadn't, I probably wouldn't have mentioned it.)
Anyway, you can see the review on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-re...
Or on Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
or on BookBub:
https://www.bookbub.com/books/hoosier...
Or just give me a call, and I'll tell you they really, really liked it.
And remember: Every time you buy a book, history gets a little more funny.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Spoiler alert: They liked it. (If they hadn't, I probably wouldn't have mentioned it.)
Anyway, you can see the review on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-re...
Or on Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3...
or on BookBub:
https://www.bookbub.com/books/hoosier...
Or just give me a call, and I'll tell you they really, really liked it.
And remember: Every time you buy a book, history gets a little more funny.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
February 4, 2022
RIP Dennis Smith: Hero
Dennis Smith passed away a couple of weeks ago, but I got sidetracked by weather stuff in writing about it.
As I've said before, the term "hero" gets thrown around way too much these days, and often at people who haven't earned the title. There are many people I admire who aren't heroes. Those who truly are heroes will insist they are not.
Dennis Smith was a hero.
He didn't look like a hero. Heroes rarely do.
He was an author of sixteen books and otherwise led a successful life, but what made him a hero is the eighteen years he spent as a firefighter for the City of New York. He took the oath in 1963, and a few years later transferred to Engine Company 82: The busiest single fire company in New York and, it's believed, the busiest one in the world at the time.
He didn't retire for another ten years after his first book, Report From Engine Co. 82, became a best seller. In 1976 he founded Firehouse Magazine, which became the most popular periodical for firefighters in the world, and he was a civic leader in many other areas. He was an advocate for firefighters, and even produced a series of training videos.
Then, on September 11, 2001--almost twenty years after he retired--Dennis Smith showed up at Ground Zero to assist his brothers and sisters. He spent 57 days helping with rescue and recovery efforts, later chronicled in Report From Ground Zero.
He didn't have to. But see, that's what a hero is: Someone who does something for others, despite risks to their own selves, when they don't have to.
I became interested in firefighting in my late teens, and there were few books on the subject at our local library. One was Report From Engine Co. 82. I read it over and over, of course, then I went searching for his other books.
He had a spare, matter of fact style of writing, and when he told stories about his work in the FDNY he didn't brag: He just told what happened, straight out. The risks they take, the injuries they received, are shocking to the reader, but just another day for Dennis and his coworkers.
Dennis Smith influenced me as both a writer and a firefighter, and I'm forever grateful to have that influence in my life. Rest In Peace, Firefighter Smith. If anyone earned it, you did.
From Wikipedia:
Dennis Smith has written sixteen books in his career, among them:
Report from Engine Co. 82
Final Fire
Glitter & Ash
Steely Blue
History of Firefighting in America
The Aran Islands – A Personal Journey
Firehouse (accompanying photographs by Jill Freedman)
Dennis Smith's Fire Safety Book
Firefighters – Their Lives in Their Own Words
A Song for Mary
Report from Ground Zero
San Francisco Is Burning – The Untold Story of the 1906 Earthquake and Fires
A Decade of Hope – Stories of Grief and Endurance from 9/11 Families and Friends
Of Love and Courage
For children:
The Little Fire Engine That Saved The City
Brassy the Fire Engine
As I've said before, the term "hero" gets thrown around way too much these days, and often at people who haven't earned the title. There are many people I admire who aren't heroes. Those who truly are heroes will insist they are not.
Dennis Smith was a hero.
He didn't look like a hero. Heroes rarely do.
He was an author of sixteen books and otherwise led a successful life, but what made him a hero is the eighteen years he spent as a firefighter for the City of New York. He took the oath in 1963, and a few years later transferred to Engine Company 82: The busiest single fire company in New York and, it's believed, the busiest one in the world at the time.
He didn't retire for another ten years after his first book, Report From Engine Co. 82, became a best seller. In 1976 he founded Firehouse Magazine, which became the most popular periodical for firefighters in the world, and he was a civic leader in many other areas. He was an advocate for firefighters, and even produced a series of training videos.
Then, on September 11, 2001--almost twenty years after he retired--Dennis Smith showed up at Ground Zero to assist his brothers and sisters. He spent 57 days helping with rescue and recovery efforts, later chronicled in Report From Ground Zero.
He didn't have to. But see, that's what a hero is: Someone who does something for others, despite risks to their own selves, when they don't have to.
I became interested in firefighting in my late teens, and there were few books on the subject at our local library. One was Report From Engine Co. 82. I read it over and over, of course, then I went searching for his other books.
He had a spare, matter of fact style of writing, and when he told stories about his work in the FDNY he didn't brag: He just told what happened, straight out. The risks they take, the injuries they received, are shocking to the reader, but just another day for Dennis and his coworkers.
Dennis Smith influenced me as both a writer and a firefighter, and I'm forever grateful to have that influence in my life. Rest In Peace, Firefighter Smith. If anyone earned it, you did.
From Wikipedia:
Dennis Smith has written sixteen books in his career, among them:
Report from Engine Co. 82
Final Fire
Glitter & Ash
Steely Blue
History of Firefighting in America
The Aran Islands – A Personal Journey
Firehouse (accompanying photographs by Jill Freedman)
Dennis Smith's Fire Safety Book
Firefighters – Their Lives in Their Own Words
A Song for Mary
Report from Ground Zero
San Francisco Is Burning – The Untold Story of the 1906 Earthquake and Fires
A Decade of Hope – Stories of Grief and Endurance from 9/11 Families and Friends
Of Love and Courage
For children:
The Little Fire Engine That Saved The City
Brassy the Fire Engine
February 1, 2022
The Four Horses of the Snowpocalypse
I used to have a t-shirt that said, "I Survived the Blizzard of '78".
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
