What's shocking about the parallels between our recent blizzard series and the Great White Hurricane is what New York City did 125 years ago that perhaps the rest of the country, or at least those in weather damage susceptible areas, ought to do as well.
The two things I wonder most about winter are: Why do some people throw away their snow shovels every year and have to buy new ones? And why do these same people go to the supermarket when a snowstorm is forecast to buy bread and milk when they never eat and drink those things when it doesn't snow?
"Polar Vortex" will surely enter the dictionary of reportorial exaggeration along with "firestorm." The next time it drops below 40 in Los Angeles, it's going to be described on the local news as a Polar Vortex.
Getting out of work early for the blizzard, but already burned through every season of "Orange is the New Black," "Breaking Bad" and "The Wire" three times over? Don't despair; there are plenty of great TV shows produced in Australia, The UK and on PBS and TBS you've likely never seen.
With apologies to Nathaniel Hawthorne, who is dead and can't sue me, I live in the House of the Three Gables. When the vent in the main one, the Clark gable, was gone with the wind after a recent storm, my wife, Sue, asked me to fix it.
While there are more terrible books being published than ever, some writers continue to offer us novels reminding us why the written word -- when used with grace, wit, wisdom, and fierce intelligence -- matters.
I grew up in the Midwest, born in Chicago, raised on the Southwest Side. We have four seasons. That's true for a lot of people, from a lot of places. Any generation, from any region accustomed to cold and snow in winter, has their own legendary storms.
Unlike much of the Huffington Post's readership, I presume, I saw the Drudge headline because I have a certain embarrassing reading habit, one that morphed out of the innocent desire to "see what the other side was all about."