Friday, December 19, 2008


Walking in snow is like walking with enormously distended and inflamed testicles. You walk astride, taking broader steps than you might otherwise, slipping and sliding, jerking suddenly, tilting in one direction or another, cursing and frowning and generally not enjoying yourself.

Oh, you can say what you like about beautiful drifting snow falling gently from the heavens to lay a mantle of white like the gown of a virgin across the benighted land, washing away all signs and vestiges of evil and leaving only humility. Or, you could be Environment Canada and refer to the storm which is currently sweeping half of Canada as "Snow-mageddon." Never let it be said that they understated an issue.

I particularly enjoyed briefly surfing to the Globe and Mail website in stolen snatches of time at work (where we HAVE the internet, but we're not allowed to use it...oh torture!), where I read such responses as: "It snows in Canada in winter. In other news, Generalissimo Franco still dead," and "Global warming is over! We won! Now I can go back to my Friday night styrofoam fires!" I admit, Victoria's getting the first snow it's had in years. But the rest of Canada gets snowed on ALL THE TIME. Why is everyone pussing out?

I'll tell you. Because going anywhere in 25cm of snow sucks. The roads still aren't plowed tonight, despite my having seen numerous crowds of people -- families going to look at the lights in Victoria Park AND families emerging, all laughing and rosy-cheeked, from the performance of A Christmas Carol at the Grand Theatre AND drunken college freshman on winter break staggering between bars and falling down in alleyways where they freeze to death like little whore-sicles. All these people probably wouldn't like to be hit by cars, although I admit, the whore-sicles probably wouldn't notice. So why haven't they plowed the damn roads?

Also, all that staggering and lurching and tipsily sliding and clambering and getting your pants soaked and finding an uncomfortable clump of snow tucked in your sock when you get back to your house...winter's hard work.

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