Twenty-two Dead and Children Delighted by Snowstorm

nowstorms blanketed the east coast early last week, stopping work in hundreds of towns and cities and creating countless traffic accidents. In the worst cases, 22 in North and South Carolina were killed in storm-related incidents. Schools were also closed in a number of states, thrilling children from grades kindergarten through 12.

"This is a terrible tragedy, the worst thing that's ever happened to us," said Raleigh, North Carolina security guard Cindy Macon. "We've lost power and had to leave our home. The whole family's been staying in a shelter and I can't afford to miss work, but they've closed everything. We're broke and destitute."

"Hooray!" said Evansville, Indiana schoolboy Ricky Teegan. "Snow's everywhere and they closed school! I hear they're probably going to be closed tomorrow, too. This is the best thing that ever happened to us!"

1.2 million homes in the Carolinas were left without power, and power companies are projecting days will be needed to make repairs. Sledding and snowball fights were also rampant in the area, as well as other snowed-in areas throughout the United States.

"We were going to go ice skating at the lake, but the ice was too weak," said Lakewood, Tennessee teen-ager Jamie Farnsworth. "No luck at all!"

"Our son was killed when his car broke through the guard rail and landed on the frozen lake," said Naomi Marquette of Toquin, Ohio, through thick tears. "The police said he survived the crash, but… he broke through and drowned in the water. The ice was too weak."

Greenville, South Carolina police chief Jim Walters said of the snowstorm, "Several houses in the area have lost power, and there have been at least twenty-five car wrecks at last count. But even worse, I hate to think of the impoverished and elderly people in town who can't afford to heat their homes. Once the roads are cleared and everything starts back up like normal I imagine the calls to pick up frozen bodies will start pouring in."

"It's fantastic," said Washington, D.C. college student Mitch Kursky. "I woke up at eight and just turned the radio on. School's closed! I turned up the thermostat, wrapped myself up in the blanket, and went back to sleep."

Initial snowfalls Tuesday and Wednesday covered much of the east coast, and though the snowfall ceased and the snow began to melt by Wednesday evening, extreme temperatures turned the melting snow into ice, creating even more road hazards and danger for travelers, as well as ice balls for snowball fights.

Echoing city officials across the country, Albertville, Illinois mayor Jean Harper advised residents, "Please stay at home if you can, if you are unessential at work or are sanctioned by employers. The storms may have lessened, but the roads are still extremely hazardous in some areas."

"I'm so glad I have the day off," said Caton, West Virginia middle school teacher Ned Murphy. "I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet day all to myself. A quick drive out to rent some videos ought to give me some entertainment. I think I'll order some pizza, too. If they take longer than an hour to get it to me, I get it at half-price."

At Least One
Team in SuperBowl ‘Really Came to Play’

War on Terror Finally Focused on Real Threats

Who’s the Black Pit That Killed a Night Club Prick? Elevator Shaft — Damn Right

Apple iPhone to Contain Real Fruit Filling

If there's one thing the whole world hates, it's a whiner. That's why I've got no patience for these jokers who stand on the street corner and yell in a big whiney voice about Jesus coming and the sinners had better repent now or have one hell of a long wait while operators are standing by. Blah blah blah, on and on, always whining about something. The end is near, society is in decline, and mister, you can't park your car on the sidewalk. It's always something with these guys. Dressed up in their little outfits with the "kick my ass, please" hats and their little ticket books. Everybody wants a minute of my time to hand me a bible or a violation for backing over a park bench, whatever the racket is this week.

The other day I came out of the African drum store to find a whole smorgasbord of tickets under my windshield wipers. A couple were for sex shows, but most of them were parking tickets for some bogus rap about blocking the exit to a drive-thru. Like Wendy's is going to have a big lunch rush or something. I carried a stack of them over to some guy on the corner who was yelling about accepting collect calls from Jesus, some damn thing, and demanded that he waive the tickets since there were no signs posted about not parking in the drive-thru lane.

He played it off real cool like he didn't know what I was talking about and tried to give me a bible, the smug prick. But I got him back. I made like I was all excited about the bible and the big J and whatnot and started to walk away, then I turned around real fast and was like "Oh! Wait, I forgot! I can't read!" and handed it back to him just to mess with his head. Then, out of nowhere, he whips out this pop-up bible that's all pictures and no words, like he was just waiting for me to say that! Talk about a smooth operator. I hadn't planned out a comeback for that situation so I just took the pop-up bible and went back to my car.

Since I already had as many tickets as would stick under my wipers, I decided I might as well leave the car there and catch a movie up the street at the Value View.

Trust me, wait for it on cable.

After the movie was over I went out to my car, careful to walk around the opposite side and get in the passenger-side door to avoid Mr. Bible Boyscout. And that's when I saw it. Straight along the passenger-side door like an ass-crease in a vinyl seat: that motherfucker had keyed my car! I grabbed a rolled-up newspaper I keep in the glove compartment and hopped out, ready to swat some ass. But you know how these stories go, by then he was long gone.

I spent an hour or two checking out the scratch from all angles and looking for evidence around the crime scene. I thought maybe the bastard might have dropped his keys in a rush to jack up my car and get out of there, and then I could walk around town and try the keys in all the cars until I found the right one. Then I could key the shit out of it with his own keys. That's what the Greek called poetic justice. But no such luck, he didn't even drop his wallet or any telltale personal affects like a matchbook with a phone number in it or a glass eye or anything. Like I said, this cat was smooth.

After a few days of brainstorming brilliant detective techniques and reading a Hardy Boys novel, I gave up on the idea of finding Mr. Bible Boyscout and decided to concentrate on getting my car back into presentable condition. Some might question what exactly counts as presentable condition for a sky-blue 1972 Dodge Dart, and to be honest I'm a little in the dark on that one myself, but whatever it is it sure as hell includes getting rid of that gigantic ugly-assed scratch running up the side of the door.

I checked around at a number of reputable local auto-detailing places, but they all wanted at least 200 clams to repaint the whole damn car, and Omar Bricks isn't made of money. That's practically new car money right there. I was starting to get a little worried when one night, while I was watching TV, a commercial came on that solved the conundrum for me. I picked up the phone and dialed.

Four to six weeks later my order of Miracle in a Bottle arrived, postage paid, for a cool $23.95. According to the infomercial, you could wipe this shit on any old junkyard duster and within seconds you'd be blinded by the sun glinting off the finish. Or by the fumes, something, the yokels in the infomercial were blinded by something. Even better, this stuff ate up paint scratches like dingoes on an Aussie toddler. Shit yeah. But the kicker was this: Miracle in a Bottle is so bad-assed, after you put it on you could set your car on fire and it didn't make any difference. You could drive around with your car on fire all the time, just for effect, and it wouldn't harm the paint at all. Consider me sold, you know?

Five minutes later I was out in the driveway, going at the Dart with a little wax-on, wax-off action. Before long the entire car was covered in a milky white residue. I didn't remember this from the infomercial and I was worried for a second, but then I remembered that I did get up to take a leak about halfway through, so I must have missed the residue part. I decided to cut the crap and jump straight to the fire test.

I figured one flick of the barbecue lighter should be enough, and I was right. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the bushes in front of my neighbor's house. Talk about a headache! The Dart was gone. Not in the sense of having disappeared, but in the sense of now being a burnt-out husk collapsed on my driveway. The firemen told me I was lucky to be alive, and that it's not safe to be driving around without a gas cap on your car.

A what cap? What'll they think of next, boat cars?

Anyway, it all just goes to show you can't trust guys who spend all their time yelling about Jesus and whatnot, or guys who hang out in the junkyard setting things on fire. Mark my words though, if anyone scratches my bus pass, there's going to be hell to pay. Bricks out.

º Last Column: Adventures in Dogsitting
º more columns

"Day to day gyrations are a sign of a good performing Georgi," said The Wise Men about Clifford's cunning. Clifford retorted: "Bark. Bark. Bark." ("The Buck is Bruised"). He tended to confuse Vietnam with reality. Because of Regan he ended up in the same motorcycle gang as Miss America and finally blah blah blah. The hills bragged about their alcoholic dog population, which had been deregulated and redegradated. Clifford had a plan to systematically steal Nixon's eyes. It was as personal as it was unprecidented. Luckily for Nixon, two of his four engine mounts were liquid-filled. Heh, dumb fucking dog.

You will find love in a new pastry drawer. Try again later.

º Last Column: Fortune 1
º more columns