Way To Shoot A Brother...

Yeah, as if we didn't need anymore proof that being the veep may result in being the butt of many a late-night hosts' monologues, you are apprently in-freakin-vinceable. You get to rip-off thousands out of their pensions, still collect a salary from your former company that you hook up with majorly juicy contracts, continue a war that hardly anybody wants anymore and to top it all aff, you totally get to shoot people. Now, I'm no hunter, but a quail is a smallish, fairly pudgy bird. My regret is that this will give more useless ammo to those LaRouche supporters who hang out outside the Reading Terminal Market on the weekends and make highly unimaginitive puns on Cheney's names. Come on, a realm of political discourse and this is the equivelant of yelling "No, you're a poopy-head!" on the playground when soemone gets to the swings first. Seriously, guys...

So Lisa and I awoke Sunday morning to the Nor'easter that swept the... well... Nor'east. Being from Western New York, our first (and correct) impulse was to run outside in the snow and take pictures of the negihboorhood.

This is 11th St, normally a bustle with cars and such and large men yelling things to people. It was kind of nice.


And these are the little cute sidestreets that pepper most of Northeast urban living. Needless to say, they are impossible to plow by anything excpet these little plows the city imported from Japan. And they don't exactly waste those on South Philly. So that car is pretty much screwed.

Needless to say, we trudged to the video store, where we were the only people there and according to the pile of snow that still lay in front of the entry way, the only people so far. I always knew that people in the South and other more temperate climates freaked out at the first sign of flakes, bu we're in the Atlantic Northeast, and this happens at least once every year. They assign years to all their snowstorms, whereas in Western New York, we would run out of the gravitas behind such a title by January. Wankers.

In other news, somewhat snow-related, out band practice came to a crashing "never-even-started" when we got to the practice space and all the bands had called out and the owner, Joe (of Grammar Debate fame), was vainly trying to dig his way out fo his parking space. Hence, we just went home. It wasn't even freakin' cold last night, man.

I am so exahausted and my limbs still ache from snow football on Sunday (an event that cameras could not even capture, so they didn't).