definition:Buzzardo

With all the snow that has been falling, it was a natural event.  A group of young men walking to the dining hall discovered that the snow conditions were perfect for harvesting large chunks of snow.  One of the men [who shall remain nameless...] gathered a piece that was nearly the size of his own torso, and without question from his cohorts, brought the piece into the freshmen dorms. 

Not wanting to create a dorm versus dorm war, the nameless man decided to simply walk the giant piece through the hall.  That is until he found an open door with two unsuspecting freshmen watching some idiotic reality show inside.  In the nameless man walked, presenting the large, frozen gift to the young, frightened student.  After being rejected by the young man, the group headed back outside.

On the way back to their own dorms, the group grabbed two large chunks and contemplated the best method for their disposal.  One of the men suggested disposal in a shower stall of a neighboring suite.  So it was.  And it was good.  At least we thought so.

It has been said that revenge is a dish best served cold.  So, does cold mean days, or months, or years; or does it simply mean that your target does not expect retalliation?  Eating joyfully at one of the campus eateries, together with those whose shower was so recently “snowed in”, all seemed calm.  Finishing early, some of the men decided to leave.  It wasn’t until later that we realized everyone who left were victims of the snow caper.

Upon arriving in their suite, one of our heroes [who are all gentlemen and scholars] noticed the floor in his room was unusually damp.  The air was full of strange humid aromas that were reminiscent of cold weather camping, and the nameless man turned on the light to the bathroom. 

I…uh…The namless man did not know how so much snow could have been put into such a small space in such a short period of time.  It was as if frosty himself had crapped himself silly on the toilet, cut of his arms off in the sinks, and melted the rest of himself in the shower. 

Half an hour later we had the mess cleaned up, and celebrated with a movie and drinks.  Just remember: revenge is a never ending cycle, and certainly a dish best served cold.

1. What is your top priority at this very moment?  2. What is the scope of the event it entails?  3. What would it take to convince you that something else is more important?  An answer to these questions was presented just the other morning.

ESPN.com reported a pregnant woman, not wanting her husband to miss an all important NFL playoff game, decided to have labor induced early.  So, answering the questions posed above, 1. make sure the money was not wasted on NFL tickets; 2. capitalism and the proliferation of overpaid players; 3. the possibility that the birth of your child may interfere with attending a football game.

……

How do you explain that to your now eight year old child?? 

[go colts]

Here’s a thought…in light of dave’s recent post which discusses mandatory annual testing for drivers over the age of 65 [a great idea], why not liscence parents too? 

……

AAAANNNDDD, i’m done. 

One week ago, one of my roommates developed some severe eye irritation.  A trip to the emergency room revealed that he developed corneal ulcers from bacteria growing under his contact lenses.  During one of the several follow-up visits, there was a significant wait due to a major vehicle accident.  While we waited, the nurse decided we needed something to do.  She brought us an outlined picture that had in it other hidden pictures; like something you may have been handed in the fourth grade.  These puzzles were cleverly designed to occupy you at your little desk, while the teacher sipped whiskey from her coffee mug, writing love letters to her eighteen year old boy-toy on school letterhead.

After about an hour we had finally found all of the hidden items, just as the E.R. doctor entered the room.  He noticed that we were deeply involved in the completion of the puzzle and the following words fell from his mouth: “Would you guys like some crayons?  I hear Clarkson students are good at coloring.”. 

I have made a pact with myself and my roommates.  Whenever we witness someone doing something that is dangerous, idiotic, or otherwise stupid, we are going to ask them if they would like some crayons. 

I think you should do the same. 

“Would you like some crayons?”

For many of you out there, this winter has been warmer and has seen little or no frozen precipitation.  We, on the other hand were welcomed back to Potsdam with freezing temperatures, and several inches of snow.  One morning, it was cold enough to freeze the inside of your nose if you took too deep of a breath.  The snow glistened in the bright morining sun, with 10 degrees being stolen from Mr. Fahrenheit.  Currently at Clarkson University, snow is calmly collecting outside of my first story window.  The lights along a main sidewalk softly illuminate the large falling flakes as students walk by.  No one seems to notice that they are a part of a masterpiece that is being painted right before their eyes.  I remember being younger and how I loved watching the snow fall.  It is so quiet, yet so changing, and so renewing.  A fresh blanket will welcome us in the morning, and I forget for a moment that experts are preaching their gospel about global warming.

Hopefully, for all who wish to see it, snow will fall.

So, the time came for me to return to Clarkson University at the end of the holiday break.  My father, being the incorrigible information guru he is, posed a simple statement: “I wonder if it is it snowing outside”.  After some thought, it occured to me that I would be driving through the tug hill plateau snow belt.  Immediately I decided to drive up during the evening to minimize the traffic encountered, and to limit how much snow could accumulate. 

Departure occured at 8 pm, and I arrived without incident in Syracuse at about 9:30.  Heading North on Route 81, I thought that I had somehow outrun the snow; that is until the lights from a nearby city illuminated the underside of rapidly approaching clouds.  The snow fell lightly at first, but within one mile, the ground was covered.  I slowed to about thirty miles per hour, as my car was having directional stability issues due to the crappy OEM tires that came on the car.  No sooner had I thought to myself: “self, it is becoming harder and harder to tell where the lanes are”, that I had wound up in an exit lane and had to perform a full ABS stop to avoid going through the stop light at the bottom of the ramp. 

Decision time.  Do I continue in the rapidly deteriorating conditions, or do I find a parking lot and hope it passes?  Well, those of you who know me know that I love adventures.  These adventures started when my dad and myself were travelling in a 1980 Chevy Citation, when the fan belt broke.  Ever since then, I will usually choose the more challenging path when given a choice like this one.  So, away I went, and reclaimed my spot in a long line of cars that were slowly travelling North.  Eventually, the road became so choked with snow, that only one pair of ruts existed in the snow.  Out of the white abyss, this crazy trucker plows his way past the line of cars with a confidence that defied logic. 

What to do?  Well, seeing as the line of cars was slowing down, and the truck was making good ruts, I grabbed Sir Issac Newton by the balls and barely managed to translate the car the eight feet to the other lane.  By the grace of God, and a farting grasshopper that must have hitched a ride on my back bumper, I caught the truck and kept him one car length in front of me at all times.

Before long, it was just the trucker and myself.  I began to wonder what would happen if I were to loose sight of this crazy trail guide, and decided that I would probably slide off the road and be snowbound.  Needless to say, I stayed put.  Then, for some odd reason, the trucker increased his already outrageous 40 mph speed to 60 mph.  No choice.  Speed up.  If I stopped, some other nutcase would hit me from behind.

Time seemed to stop.  The snow was becoming mesmerizing, and I had to look out the side windows to confirm the speed indicated on the speedometer.  I can liken the experience to walking towards a light with your eyes shut.  About half an hour later, the snow subsided, and the footing was becoming more stable.  I made it.  Looking behind me, I saw nobody.  Somewhere between North Syracuse and Pulaski, Several cars were struggling to find their way.

Reflecting on the event, I thought about how sometimes in life we have to focus on the thing that is going where we want to go.  I realized that if I had looked back, for just a moment, I would have lost my way.  Reflection in life is necessary, but only when you can see where you are going.