Archive for October, 2011

The Man-Eating Killer Death Snow: A retrospective

On February 1, 2011, the third-largest snowstorm on record hit Chicago. Events of such historic proportion must be remembered; thus, I have dug into my Facebook archives and found all the posts I made related to what I called the “man-eating killer death snow.” I believe that these posts offer an important glimpse into the travails of one man grappling with natural forces far more powerful than he, and thus deserve to be remembered. Mainly because I’d much rather these be treated as a gripping historical document, rather than a potential mental health study, as some have suggested. Anyway, below are the compiled posts.

February 1, 3:39 PM: The man-eating killer death-snow is here! I’ll keep updates coming to Facebook as long as I survive and have power.

 

Man-eating killer death snow update #1: Snow has been falling for about an hour. Food stores already scarce. I’ve been forced to eat my shoes. Fortunately, my shoes were made of graham crackers.

 

Man-eating killer death-snow update #2: The dangers I am facing make me identify more strongly with my brave pioneer forebears. I wonder if they also almost slipped while taking their laundry to the basement.

 

Man-eating killer death-snow update #3: Decided to burn books for heat. Despite the fact that I don’t have a working fireplace. And the heat in my building is working fine. Look, there’s some books I just don’t like, okay?

 

Man-eating killer death-snow update #4: Went to the store to shop for emergency supplies. By “store,” I actually mean “neighbor’s house,” and by “shop,” I mean “armed robbery.”

 

Man-eating killer death-snow update #5: Sanity slipping. I blame the snow, snow, the blinding, blowing, omnipresent, unavoidable snow, snow in every place, in every crack, snow snow snow. Though the fact that I’ve been watching Springer for ten straight hours maybe is not helping.

 

Man-eating killer death snow update #6: Stuck in darkness. Inky blackness all around. Nothing but dark. Alone, so alone in the dark. No one will find me, no one will help me, no one will … wait. Found hall closet doorknob and got out. Okay, everything’s fine now.

 

Man-eating killer death snow update #7: After a brief walk outside, I am convinced that nature is a horribly angry god intent on all our destruction who will only be appeased by sacrifice. Kathy is sharpening the knives.

 

Man-eating killer death-snow update #8: It’s late. The wind is howling outside like the voices of the dead.

Wait. That’s not the wind. That is, in fact, the voices of the dead. Okay, who scheduled the blizzard for the same night as my séance?

 

Man-eating killer death snow update #9: Cold has penetrated the walls of the house. I might have hypothermia, so I am trying to convince Kathy to offer the appropriate first aid. Given that I’ve tried this in all weather, including mid-summer, she’s not buying it.

 

Man-eating killer death-snow update #10: Woke up cold, shivering, lying on frozen ground, covered only by snow, my beard full of icicles. But that’s my normal morning routine, so all is well.

 

Man-eating killer death-snow update #11: Fed my faithful dog companion breakfast to repay him for his unwavering loyalty and devotion. As a reward, he bit me.

Addendum: Finn has informed me that I should no longer refer to him as “my faithful dog companion.”

 

Man-eating killer death snow update #12: Supplies are short, hunger is rampant, but my party treks onward. Somehow, we are caught by a camera while marching through a towering snow drift. (Picture below; not pictured: Mr. R. S. Donner, Mr. T. J. Donner, Ms. J. Q. Donner, Mr. P. T. Donner).

Man-eating killer death snow update #13: Decided to hunt moose in order to procure food. Does anyone have a helicopter they can spare?

 

Man-eating killer death snow update #14: I thought it was over. I thought I was done with it. The snow had stopped, we would dig out, and life would get back to normal. But I’ve been doing some investigating, some poking around, and I can’t ignore the facts any longer. This wasn’t just any snowstorm. This was the SAME SNOWSTORM THAT KILLED MY FATHER TWELVE YEARS AGO! Damn you, snowstorm! Damn you to hell!

 

 

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