If you've read Burson's last post, whose story is a strange conflation of Lord Of The Rings, Into The Wild, and Strange Brew, then you undoubtedly know that PDX is in the midst of a SNOWMERGENCY. I type that in all caps because everything relating to the weather MUST BE CAPITALIZED. Since I'm not really able to engage in my preferred method of relaxation during a snowstorm, which usually consists of listening to Frank Sinatra while sipping bourbon on the rocks, I've been forced to watch the continuing coverage of this epic snowstorm. This has led me to make the following mental notes:

• Television reporters today are much hotter than I remember, and I'm not just talking about Stephanie Kralevich, although I am talking about Stephanie Kralevich, because she is rad. Every network seems to have some hotties working 'round the clock. Chicks seem way hotter when they are wearing beanies.
• The worst phrase I've heard so far: Snotcicles.
• Perhaps I'm merely entering "When I was a boy" mode, but they seems to cancel school on the slightest whim of snow nowadays. When I was a boy one only got the day off of school if there was some serious snow. We are raising a generation of weak-willed children.
• Speaking of canceling school, no more of this snow-route crap. Either cancel school or don't cancel school, but don't half-ass it by declaring buses on snow routes. Pick a side – we're at war.
• Every news outlet in town has a station jacket that is basically the same. It's always a Columbia Sportswear jacket that is blue and black – it has the Columbia logo on the right breast and the station logo on the left breast. I have decided that I want a Fox 12 jacket but I am unable to locate one. I looked on the Columbia Sportswear website, and the KPTV website, but I haven't found one. They probably don't offer them to the public, because they know people like me would pretend to represent the station and then unzip their pants and wave their junk around. Still, I want a hook-up.
• I know it makes me an extremely bad person, but I love seeing all those people stuck at the airport. As someone who doesn't fly, and doesn't ever plan to fly again, I find it immensely enjoyable. Seeing the pain of people stranded, sleeping on bad airport carpet, and watching their travel plans get ruined keeps me warm at night.
• I've discovered the single greatest weather forecasting tool known to man: the Fox 12 WeatherBlog. It gives a real window into the data meteorologists use to forecast, and what they decide to tell you. They also provide links to all the models that run every six hours, which are used to forecast the pressure gradients. It's pretty cool actually. The people who frequent said blog are a mixture of weather geeks, Star Wars geeks, and people who have too much free time. I fit right in!

That's it for my weather-related notes. Since every major news station has a seemingly apocalyptic description of this weather event, such as Northwest Newschannel 8's Arctic Blast, I will leave you with my ideas for ones that they could have used. Please vote for your favorite.

• Hellstorm 2008: Arctic Death
• Satan's Icy Hate 2008
• Old Man Winter's Cold Cold Sheets: Frozen Dreams & Wintry Death
• Jack Frost's Frozen Taint: Hypothermania
• SNOWXECUTION 2008: Your Frozen Corpse Will Be Found In A Ditch Covered In Snow 

...A fur trapper, who was Strictly From Commercial [Strictly Commercial...]
Had the unmitigated audacity to jump up from behind my igloo
And start a-whuppin' on my favorite baby seal [Boom-Boom-Boom-Boom]
With a lead-filled snowshoe [Peek-a-boo, Whoo-hoo-hooo]

Well, it's that time of year again, when Oregonians crap their pants over a few inches of white powder dusting the ground. It's days like the ones we've had this week that make me wish I lived anywhere else in the country, and not just because of "NewsChannel 8's ARCTIC BLAST 08: Continuing Coverage." No, chief among these reasons is that no one in this state has figured out that "four-wheel drive" doesn't equate to "four-wheel stop," and thus there's no way in hell I'm taking my car out on any publicly-accessed street.

Now, despite the fact that it looks like a) Pablo Escobar sneezed, b) Peter North was especially cold today, or c) there's a Klan rally going on outside, the fact of the matter is that a man has some needs. In this case, I'm referring to alcohol, and more accurately my lack of it. Because of my aforementioned aversion to being t-boned by some jackass in an Escalade going 60 mph on ice, my world has basically shrunk to whatever is within two linear miles of my parents' residence, and this sad fact has put a serious crimp on my access to intoxicating beverages, which if you know me (since you're reading this site, I assume you do) is something I hold near and dear to my heart.

So, in my never-ending quest to uphold the rights guaranteed to me in the Twenty-first Amendment, drastic measures were required. Channeling the spirit of the bitterly cold, and simply bitter, Polacks that came before me, I struck out across the barren landscape of Mountain Park in search of some good-ass hooch. If you've ever been to my particular neck of the woods, you'll undoubtedly have noticed a few things... these things would be hills. Steep fucking hills. Take it on good authority (mine) - when these hills have ice on them, you do NOT want to walk on them.

We'll skip the details, and pick up our story an hour or so later when, after army-crawling and sliding most of the way to the store, I walk inside the glorious, blast-heated confines of my local upscale supermarket. If you were looking for a laugh, I'd tell you about how I forgot my ID and had to walk all the way back to get it, but this was not the case; I buy so much beer that I practically have my driver's license tattooed on my forearm.

After procuring my 12-pack of Iron City (hey, New Seasons is fucking expensive, I gotta go for something relatively cheap), there remained one more stop on my itinerary. Though my particular genetic origins lie nowhere near Kentucky, I had on the walk over developed a powerful hankering for some fine (okay, tolerable) bourbon that necessitated a trip to the conveniently located and creatively named Liquor Store. After much wracking internal debate, I settled on a brand that was entirely apropos for Burson - Rebel Yell (see, that was supposed to be a joke). Though I most certainly wanted to sit down and crack one or five of my recent purchases, many (two) miles of walking lay before me. Again sparing details, I slid, crawled and cursed my way back home and, after so many hours in the cold, sat down to one of the most glorious and well-deserved booze feasts I have ever experienced. Or I just sat down and had a beer or two. Whichever.

Anyway, after a life-altering and enlightening experience such as this one, I simply felt I had to share it with you all (all one of you - what's up, Wyv). In short, if you're out of your particular brand of inebriation, I feel for you, and I advocate and support any and all means you undertake to obtain it. Also, it's cold as balls out there, and people in Oregon drive like shit, so bundle up and use protection.

Watch out where the huskies go
And don't you eat that yellow snow

Former KATU meteorologist Jim Bosley died at the age of 73 yesterday. I, like many Portland youths, grew up watching Bosley every weeknight. I can only help but feel partly responsible for his death since I was thinking about Jim Bosley (and Charleton Heston for that matter) last week for some unknown reason, and all of a sudden he (they) dies (die). Clearly I should be thinking about my various enemies more often. In any event, my brain is filled with worthless information about "The Boz," and if I don't recite it now, I will never get a chance to again. Perhaps you, the Portland reader, will also remember this stuff.

Bosley featured a segment where he would rate the day on a scale of 1 to 10. I also remember that he would dress up a poor cat in different outfits – I believe the cat's name was "Tom The Weather Cat" and he would make weather predictions, which might or might not have been more accurate. KATU would also have a segment during the summer and fall called "Boz In The Hood" (Or "Boz In Da Hood" if they were feeling more urban) where Jim Bosley would do his weather at a particular Portland neighborhood. Toward the end of the newscast someone at the location would spin a wheel that had all of Portland's other neighborhoods on it, and wherever the wheel landed is where they would ship Bosley to the next day. Wow, local news is stupid. I also heard that Jim Bosley once got a DUI, but I say that realizing that I don't know if that is true or not. In either event, I know way too much information about useless things. I'm going to start huffing today.