WHITE FLAKES OF DEATH, PT. 96

Much like the movie Groundhog Day, I'm starting to wonder if I'm trapped in a bad 6-o-clock newscast. You see, there's a hardware store across the street from my office, and for the fourth or fifth time in the past month, TV crews have staked the place out to gauge the Mood of the Populace. And apparently, the Populace is interested in only two things these days: snow shovels and duct tape.

When I walked across the street to the shopping center today, I saw a cameraman and his sound guy sprinting backwards, filming a middle-aged woman, snow shovel in hand and leering like an idiot. Never mind that we had just been through a blizzard ONE WEEK AGO and a less major snowstorm ONE DAY AGO. Maybe some people have simply forgotten to look out their windows for the past 10 days and needed the assistance of their friendly local TV stations to remind them that a $12.99 shovel is the only thing separating them from certain death from above.

(Speaking of which, one of the points I've gleaned from my nightly, blurry-eyed re-readings of the full contents of the Ready.org site is that one subtle, easily missed sign of terror-related trouble is things falling from the sky, which might force one to "improvise." That, or get out a snow shovel.)

But as always, I digress. Don't get me wrong -- I don't have the print reporter's automatic disdain for all things televised. Back in my newspaper days, I was friends with some of the guys from the local TV station (the only people we felt we could safely make fun of as we wrote our groundbreaking exposes about baby pageants and the like). One even risked his fledgling broadcast career by showing up in drag to a Halloween party we threw. But still -- the ground has been covered with snow since basically the end of November here, and there's been other pressing news of late. Does this mean when it finally melts, I'll have to watch camera crews film people rushing to hoard flower bulbs and garden shears?

MASS OR CLASS?

Apparently, neither. Here's the ad that Blogger, in its infinite wisdom, saw fit to put on the top of this humble site earlier today:



Yep, they've got my demographic nailed!

WHAT A COUNTRY!

I didn't watch the Grammies last night (didn't the Doobie Brothers get back together or something?), but earlier in the day I watched an interview on CNN with a Russian country band called -- and if I was a Russian country musician, this is exactly what I'd call my band -- Berring Straits, who had apparently been nominated for something somewhere.

Here's how you can tell I spent way too much of the '80s listening to tragically bad standup comedy: As I was watching these perfectly nice Russian musicans field various softballs from the CNN anchor, the only thing I could think of was one sentence: "In Russia, the Grammies watch YOU!"

Okay, okay. Try coming up with your own wacky post-glastnost Soviet country music humor. Attempting to do so drove the greatest Russian thinker of our time, one Mssr. Yakoff Smirnoff, to madness, so clearly I never stood a chance. Though I got an even bigger, and equally unintentional, laugh out of CNN minutes later when the same anchor, over a bed of dramatic War in Iraq Deux(tm) music, somehow managed to blurt out this sentence with a straight face: "We'll look at how the media in other countries are reporting on the Iraq crisis. Are they reporting the news, or just grandstanding their own countries' political positions?"

In Russia, CNN watches--oh, never mind.

LITERATURE MARCHES ON

I took a break from digging out of the snow and wrapping my bottled water and freedom fries in plastic sheeting duct-taped to the AC vents in our safe room to add another installment to this novel-in-progress I'm, um, "writing" with two friends.

Instead of the proverbial infinite numbers of monkeys, there's just three of us, so it's safe to say we ain't coming up with Shakespeare.

It started out innocently enough, what with the idea of having a little fun with the conventions of Important Fiction. Sure enough, the first few installments had sort of a slightly edgy Garrison Keilor feel to them, and even a few elegant, and possibly even gramatically correct, sentences. But it didn't take long for the sensibility to morph into Carl Hiassen, and then, tragically, Quentin Tarrantino, probably with a little Hunter S. Thompson on a peyote binge thrown in for good measure. When they make the movie, through the magic of computer-generated effects, Christopher Walken will play every role.

But I digress. Assuming your book club hasn't already started following along, read for yourself. (Because I'm too lazy to fix it, the most recent installments are at the top of the page, meaning you'll have to scroll to the bottom to begin.) Not that it'll make more sense that way.

ORANGE SNOW

If there's one thing that will take the D.C. area's collective mind off an Orange Alert, it's a really big snowstorm. And that's what we got this long, and soon to be longer, weekend--something like two feet worth.

And the best thing? Thanks to the Orange Alert, everyone had already stocked up on essentials well before the snowstorm, making it easy for us to grab the requsite supplies at the 11th hour. Of course, I'm not exactly sure what you're supposed to do with duct tape in the snow. Make a really secure snowman?

Sad to say, my wife Sally actually did succumb to the Orange Crush and bought some bottled water. Of course, since this was a whole week after the nation went Code Orange, the only bottled water left at the store was Evian, the stuff the primates capitulards et toujours en quete du fromage swig like it's... well, water. I tell you, what's a Right-Thinking American to do?

Luckily, it's no dilemma at all. If you've seen our safe room, no amount of duct tape -- or mineral water -- would convince anyone of sound mind to spend a day or 12 in there.

ORANGE CRUSH

Here's how to tell, in the Washington, D.C., area, the difference between an orange terror alert and a winter storm warning: Instead of TV crews staking out the grocery stores to film people hoarding milk, they're staking out the hardware stores to film people hoarding duct tape.

There's a hardware store across the street from my office, and this afternoon I saw the telltale microwave mast of a live TV crew jutting from the roof of a van in the parking lot. Sure enough, there was the requsite reporter, pacing the sidewalk in front of the store in hopes of finding someone racing out with reams of plastic sheeting and duct tape in time to kick off the 5 o'clock newscast. I almost walked over, in hopes of being interviewed and getting to say, "It's duct tape. I need it... for taping something." Of course, that would be Wrong during these Trying Times.

I shouldn't joke, considering that I work and live in one of the two most likely target cities. And while telling people to stock up on duct tape is disconcertingly akin to the Reagan-era advice about digging a hole and hiding under a piece of wood should the Rooskies decide to go all Strangelove on us, at least they're saying something now. Last week, when we moved up to orange from Mellow Yellow, this was the verbatim quote from Homeland Security Uberlord Tom Ridge about what people should do. Parse it at your own risk:

"There are so many available sources of information that you could refer to that will give you and your family and your businesses and your schools some comfort to know that in the eventuality, with the possibility that something might happen, you have taken some precautionary measures or taken some steps to minimize the damage or perhaps to avoid it altogether."

In other words, do what you need to do to feel like you've done something. Which, come to think of it, is exactly why people mob the Safeway the instant the season's first snowflake falls.

NOW I'M REALLY CONFUSED

I know spam is old hat, even though The New York Times just saw fit to give it notice. Years ago, when the inter web was still shiny and new, I used to keep an archive of all the ludicrous e-mail I got. Maybe the folks at the Newspaper of Record(tm) just happened to stumble across it last week.

But I digress. It takes a lot for me to pay attention to junk mail now -- the last one that caught my eye was the gramatically (and hopefully anatomically) incorrect one with the subject "I have f---ed by elephant!" Then, in the same day, I got these two beauties:

RV - Warning!

Don't Touch that Dirty Hose

The Cleaner Way of Dealing with a Dirty Job! Make Emptying Your RV Holding Tanks Easy!

• The toughest hose available
• Available in 12' and 20' lengths

One touch electric waste evacuation is finally here!

No more reaching into the dark regions under your RV to drain tanks. Installs minutes – keep your hands clean from now on!

Fine. A little out of my demo, but who doesn't like keeping their hands clean? But that didn't prepare me for this:

Hello,

I am offering $50,000 2003 US dollars for the below equipment:

1. The mind warper generation 4 Dimensional Warp Generator # 52 4350a series wrist watch with z60 or better memory adapter. Or if in stock the AMD Dimensional Warp Generator module containing the GRC79 induction motor, two I80200 warp stabilizers, 256GB of SRAM, and two Analog Devices isolinear modules, This unit also has a menu driven GUI accessible on the front panel XID display. Or perhaps you have some reliable all in 1 units available?

2. The special 23200 or Acme 5X24 series time transducing capacitor with built in temporal displacement.

I need this with complete jumper/auxiliary system

3. An age stopping finger ring if available.

VERY IMPORTANT: All equipment must be original in sealed closed casing of it's time. No old imitation electronic parts or materials are accepted. Please send photos of the above items so I can verify you have them available.

I will offer you $50,000 2003 US funds total for everything with the ring if you can teleport to me in the Boston area within the next 48 earth hours to conduct business in person.

Business in person is greatly preferred! If business cannot be conducted in person, I will send you a deposit only after proof you have them available, and then the remaining funds upon delivery of the time pieces.

Too bad I only have the 4340 series Dimensional Warp Generator. Also, I'm not a big fan of teleporting to Boston. You still have to find a cab back to the airport.

PS. New Get Your War On panels. Worth a look if you've never seen them before.

RESTON FREEZES OVER

Reston(tm), if not hell, must be freezing over, considering I've managed to update the main part of my site twice in as many months. Chalk it up to the kids taking long naps this weekend.

If you're so inclined, you could check out my newest pretentious photos, mostly from Ireland and France. "New," of course, being a relative term, since we took that trip more than a year ago. But they're still new to you!

I've also posted the most recent edition of our holiday newsletter (PDF). Ever the narcissists, we sent this sucker to acquaintances of friends of friends of friends, so I'm guessing it isn't new to anyone reading this. For the morbidly curious, though, it does have a lovely series of pictures of the various wallpaper patterns in our house. Be prepared to be underwhelmed.

Speaking of underwhelming, I've also updated my resume. Beats working, right? (Prospective -- and current -- employers, please disregard the previous sentence. In fact, disregard everything you see here...)

WE'RE NUMBER 17!

At long last, I've learned why my heavy-handed, take-no-prisoners style of investigative journalism ("Chalk Dust: Going Up in Smoke?") hasn't exactly ignited my career. It's hard breaking the doors wide open when you work in the country ranked 17th in terms of press freedom.

Interestingly, the U.S.'s relatively poor ranking has nothing to do with the MSNBCNNAOLTIMEWARNERFOXDISNEYVH1-style consolidation of late. It has more to do with the growing number of cranky judges who, upon hearing a journalist refusing to divulge their sources, carefully consider the storied tradition of journalistic impartiality and the constitutional significance of the First Amendement -- and then throw them in jail. This is truly tragic, particularly since it hasn't happened to Geraldo or Ashleigh Banfield -- yet.

Meanwhile, the brutally oppresive regime to our north, Canada, ranked fifth in press freedom, while Finland, of all places, ranked first. Small wonder -- when I was writing about bundle-strappers and newsprint butt rolls at my last gig, I lived in constant fear of being scooped by those pesky Fins. Now I know why.

EVEN MORE SHAMEFUL THAN BRIAN DUNKLEMAN

Do we watch too much intellectually stimulating reality television at our home?

Let's put it this way: Our four-year-old now runs around the house, singing and then shouting, "I'm going to Hollywood? Thanks!"

Forgive us.