Stevieslaw: Rooting for OMW
Let’s not lie to one another. I know you are not sitting in front of your TV at five in the afternoon and again at eleven at night dressed in your favorite “let it snow sweatshirt.” You are not even cheering when your local weatherperson—in our case a guy so old he is an constant reminder of eight inch black and white sets—announces that tomorrow will be brutally cold and that people dumb enough to venture out will freeze solid in less than fifteen seconds. But deep down, aren’t you—aren’t we all—wishing Old Man Winter one final terrific performance? One more winter we can say of in twenty years: “You remember the winter of 13, froze my butt off.” The truth now. Don’t you wish OMW could raise his hoary arm once more out of the white stuff that constrains him (no not snow, more like the foam that they coat runways with to prevent fires) and let us have it once again. Let’s hear it for the old guy— encore, encore, encore.