WHITEOUT!!!!

Okay, who's the bleedin' clockwork moron what just dumped THIRTEEN INCHES of "climate-shift" on my driveway then, eh???  Crazy-fooking-arse way to kick off the 2016 blogs here, I must say.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you - I had a total blast with my commutes to and from the j-o-b today, thanks to my trusty 4WD grunt-buggy.  Inbound, the snow was deep enough that "4 High" created nifty roostertails from all four wheels that shot a good 20 feet in the air as I trundled along.  Outbound, the snow was twice as deep, was beginning to mix with a thick layer of sleet, and was being blasted every which way by an aggressive 40-mph wind speed.  Visibility?  Measured in inches {if at all}, Boys and Girls.  B-L-I-Z-Z-A-R-D......

Well, fine.  I lived through 40-odd winters in St. Louis; a little Cornhusker Tempest would be a piece of cake, right?  So this time it was "4 Low," stay OFF the brakes altogether, and not more nor less than exactly 30 miles an hour {the optimum speed in 4 Low}.  Since it was just past dusk, my brand-new perscription sunglasses wouldn't be of much use;  I'd have to meet the teeth of the storm with all four of TR's head and fog lamps blazing away, period.  High-beams were useless in a furious maelstrom that featued snow and sleet falling both horizontally and straight UP on occasion - no way in hell could any type of glare penetrate such a wild-n-wooly curtain of frozen precip.

Whilst I'm dramatizing a bit for effect here, in the actual moment I was perfectly calm, and completely matter-of-fact about making my trip home 100% safe and stress free.  Didn't really have to worry about opposing traffic during the evening rush 'cos the only other vehicles I encountered in eight miles was a tandem of snowplows working the opposite lanes from mine - only their strobe beacons gave them away, their silhouettes otherwise greatly resembling the Pilsbury Doughboy on a skateboard!  The trip was a bit slow, yes, but otherwise was uneventful and still great fun, thanks to me trusty wheels.

Inclement weather driving skills aside, allow me to kill the proverbial two birds with a quick segue into Silly Season business.  I find myself somewhat bemused as to how completely all over the place virtually all the Presidential contenders are in the wake of the first preliminary held last night.  Nothing's been decided yet - the delegate count doesn't start to get heavy until the first or second week in March - but one can't swing a dead cat without encountering either armchair political spin-doctoring running amok, or gloom-and-doom resignation {with a heap of attending baggage to go along with it all}.  Both notions are simply asinine; a month before the conventions is when the real story will become clear.  It's been that way since Grover Cleveland ran, and likely will remain so far into the future, barring the radical revamping our political system so desperately needs.

LSS, I'll get excited exactly when I'm supposed to, and not one minute before.  Myself, I still like The Donald's chances overall, but I flatly refuse to plop the ol' heart on the sleeve and hope for the best, quite yet.  I will say, though, that the time between now and the Conventions is an excellend window to become well-informed through research, which is pretty much what I've been doing since last spring.  Forewarned is forearmed, dig?

And so it goes, Fellow Babies.  It's a wrap for now, but much more is still to come.  Fire up a colortini in our late Uncle Tom Snyder's honour, lay back, and ride the groove.

More shortly.