This blog covers everything except sports and gardening, unless we find a really good link about using dead professional bowlers for mulch. The author is a StarTribune columnist, has been passing off fiction and hyperbole as insight since 1997, has run his own website since the Jurassic era of AOL, and was online when today’s college sophomores were a year away from being born. So get off his lawn.
It may have disrupted economies and livelihoods, and caused familes to be apart for days; it may have stranded people miles from home, and made them miss events that could never be repeated. In short, that was a very naughty thing the volcano did. But wait, it’s worse:
LOS ANGELES – A volcanic cloud of ash hovering over Europe is causing quite a scene in Hollywood and beyond.
That’s right, celebrities are affected.
Whitney Houston was forced to ditch a plane for a ferry across the Irish Sea to perform in Dublin.
Since "Ditch means land in water," I hope everyone's okay. At least Whitney's putting that pilot's license to good use.
There are glimmers of hope:
Worldwide press junkets for two of the summer season's most anticipated films — "Iron Man 2," starring Robert Downey Jr., and "Robin Hood," starring Russell Crowe — also were still scheduled as planned next weekend in London, according to studio official
Best story of the lot: John Cleese needed to get home from a Norwegian talk show appearance, so he took a cab. Nine-hundred and thirty-two miles. The ride cost $5,100. There will be those who say "John, you comic genius! What a brilliantly madcap thing to do!" No, he's just rich, and didn't want to sit around. Said his only tweet during the time:
Thanks to Garry @gazzalon for getting me home.…
That would appear to be Mr. Cleese’s personal assistant. The things you learn. UPDATE: Gary Numan, who had a minor hit song about cars 137 years ago, will be unable to make the Coachella Valley Musi and Arts Festival in Indio, CA. We’ll keep you posted on this story as more details develop.
A guy at the office was called by BBC radio today, asked about our horrible weather here in the Midwest. (Defined perhaps as the area between Hoboken and Oakland, California.) I think he missed an excellent opportunity to prank the fellow: it’s 70 below! The roads have disappeared beneath sixteen feet of snow; kids are being winched out of holes in the roofs of school buses, and the backhoes are going 24/7 to open up sufficient graves for the dead. Why, the frozen dead are stacked like cordwood! And the cordwood is stocked like dead people, too, if you’re lucky enough to have enough cordwood to heat your house. It’s the worst winter ever.
Seriously, is it? Not ever; I suspect the ones that had wooly mammoths roaming about, goring cavemen for appetizers, were worse. But they’re saying this is the worst winter in 25, 30 years - and while I’m not inclined to endorse these things, it could be so. We always think this one’s worse because IT’S FLIPPIN’ COLD OUT and we have forgotten the finger-tingly joys of the previous January. Snow? Bigger storms come to mind. But when you combine the cold, the wind, the ice, the snow, the general gloom in the zeitgeist, and the grim knowledge that the winter has three months of full-strength hell to go, well: yes. It could be the worst. Until the next.
Good Lord. Snow is due Friday. Snow. Some predictions call for snow showers through the weekend, with lows in the 20s. So it’s back to the cooler ahead of schedule - way ahead of schedule. The first one-inch snowfall usually happens around November 18. Measurable snow that sticks around three weeks before Halloween is the harbinger of a nasty winter that has no pity.
In a way, we’re due; it’s been years since we were socked in early, with permanent drifts on the lawn before the Christmas music cranks up in earnest. Weather doesn’t operate according to karma, of course - just because we think we’ve earned a warm spring and a long lovely summer doesn’t mean we’ll get one, any more than the cruel un-summer we just had means an attenuated autumn with warm afternoons and crisp hey-let’s-build-a-bonfire nights. But right now the idea of beginning our six-month shut-in period before October crests the hill is the sort of thing that makes people saw their wrists with ginzu knives.
It won’t stay. It can’t stay. Heaven help us if it does stay: The leaves have hardly begun to fall, let alone turn en masse.
Imagine if the Twins stadium was finished, and they were playing a World Series game next week. What a pity if we finally get all three outdoor stadia just as the world tips into a cycle of global cooling. Everyone’s out of the climate controlled Dome, playing in the elements, dropping balls because their hands are blue. Our timing is just exquisite.
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