Dear God, it's The Ford.

(OK, that homage to Judy Blume stunk, but The Ford is putting The Official Blame on Talladega Nights' hospital scenes.)

Remember when The Ford begged and pleaded for more snow? He's done. And not even because he can't deal. He's had 10 inches fall while he was wearing a windbreaker -- in May. (The Official Alma Mater broke The Ford of weather-phobia years ago.)

No, The Ford's easy and breezy on foot in the D; he's just not looking forward to the hundreds of conversations he's sure to have in the next two days about The March Blizzard. (It ain't The Official Blizzard until The Ford's got some Official Statistics -- wouldn't want to throw The Ford's weight behind something till it's sealed like Obama.)

So, God, let the snow fall ... And everyone can call in sick tomorrow.

Thus sayeth The Ford

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