
Greetings from sunny and warm Birubegja! I hope you all enjoyed your Holiday Season and all the warmth and good cheer has enabled you all to deal with this, the coming of the apocalypse. I speak, of course, of winter. Here in Northern Virginia, where yours truly lives when not on Birubegja, there occurred a weather event so horrible, so epoch-changing, so cataclysmic, that it has paralyzed the government, the schools, and all those who hold life dear.
We…had…snow.

And before anyone starts by saying that we have no we have a tendency to create panic in the streets over an inch of snow, let me just say that we had upwards of 4 times…yes, 4 times that amount. In one day! That’s 4 inches of snow, by my measly mathematical calculations. It was…horrible.
I will try to recall the scene for you, but it wasn’t pretty. Those with small children should put the kids to bed and those with elderly relatives should do the same with them. All ready? Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…it’s horrible.

The streets were covered. There were no line designations to tell what lane you were supposed to be in. The side streets were quickly overrun by Mammoths and Tauntauns. Entire families were broken up as their satellite TV service was interrupted for several minutes, resulting in the family having to speak to each other in forms other than email. Mothers and fathers were forced to break up their furniture to fashion crude pitchforks and torches to go after the school and government officials that kept school on time for the children when the massive snow storm hit.

And lest not we forget about our beloved pets. Our dogs, completely unable to distinguish between grass and the deck with the massive snow buildup, was forced to pee wherever he darn well pleased. The look of angst, whether by the massive weather outbreak or by possible constipation, is something no pet owner should have to witness.
Will we recover? Still too early to tell. I’m not going to sugar-coat this for anyone. This snowstorm, hereafter referred to as Virginia Four Incher, has…killed us all.
Farewell (probably)
