Don't need a weatherman

We were out last night for the Sexy Librarian's Birthday Bash. The party was still going strong when I left, but I didn't wimp out too soon. I even found a few odd lucky tidbits on the Crappy TouchTunes System: "Straight to Hell," "Holiday in Cambodia," and...the Osmonds. That seemed really incongrous in the dive bar, so I had to play it.

On the way home, across the street and half a block back, some guy was walking and hollering. My first thought was almost sentimental: ah, just like Mpls used to be! From what we could make out, he was cursing the cold at the top of his lungs. All the "ambassadors" from the North Dakota tourism industry were so angry about the National Geographic magazine showing a cold empy prairie. Well, they should have been walking down Salvation Army street at eleven o'clock in twenty below weather.

And speaking of local media outrage, here's a letter on the smoking prohibition crusade which finally says what I think about it: http://www.in-forum.com/Opinion/articles/189373. The author is thought of locally as something of a crank, but he's not wrong about the cars. I'd have added that I've never almost been killed on the spot by someone's cigarette, but bringing up these many brushes with death just, well, makes me sound like a crank...