Friday, February 5, 2010

February 5, 2010

       "Poor, wee, cowerin'  timorous beastie--oh, what a panic's in thy
breastie!" Scots poet Robert Burns was writing about a mouse, but nowadays
we know that he was really describing the city of Washington, D.C., facing
a major blizzard, as we now are.      I grew up in Chicago, where snow was
an accepted part of winter.  Schools didn't close, as I remember, parents
went off to work as usual;  life didn't change much.  Not here.  We don't
get big snow very often--about two feet is what they're forecasting for
this one--and when we do, we're not very good at it.      We're not quick
at clearing our sidewalks, our streets.  Schools close before the first
flake falls--many are closed today and it hasn't started yet;  we'll be
lucky if the Fire Department stays open.  It won't affect Big Government,
of course. Mr. Obama can call out the U.S. Marines to shovel the White
House driveway, if he wants.      But the rest of use?  Forget it.  I'll be
under the bed if you need me.
Sent from a blackberry.

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