January 2002
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January 4 I decided I really didn't need to go outside today, so there aren't new snow pictures. The official total accumulation for my county is twelve inches, by the way. One of the local television stations got some mileage out of the tired old thing about how northerners don't think southerners can drive well in snow. While it was amusing, it was pretty obviously done as a between-commercials-filler, consisting of a reporter doing some doggerel between clips of drivers making comments. It could not by any stretch of the imagination be considered news to anyone who has lived around these parts for long, and any newcomers were probably out trying to find snow shovels instead of watching the coverage.
You might wonder why southern pride doesn't make us run outside at the first sign of snow and rev up engines, in some effort to prove to the yankees in our midst that we can do anything. Well, it's pretty much that southerners don't care. When we want to show off our driving skills, we pick another venue and don't feel the need to use SUVs. We call it NASCAR. * * * * * * * * * * * One thing that did make me mad enough to melt snow unassisted this morning was getting spam from some (expletives deleted) idiot who decided to have it show that my journal address sent the stuff to me at the hidden address to which my journal mail forwards. That had me sending e-mail to all sorts of places, including the webmnaster of the reply-to ISP. Which bounced. And that's amusing. I also sent a note to Andrew, the Diaryland guru, to assure him that I had not suddenly given up sanity and self-respect. I hope no one got it from me, but Andrew already knows I didn't send it, so I won't get banned. Andrew told me that some spam bots can now decipher text-only mailing information, so I'm changing the sidebar one again, to make it a little harder on the bots. I'm sorry if it inconveniences anyone who really wants to write to me. As always, I welcome mail from readers.