Snow Job
Time for my annual message: In Chicago, if you shovel out a spot, unless you're incredibly old, handicapped or... I'm sure there's a third thing, but I can't remember it... you don't "own" (or to be precise, are not entitled to) the spot. Man up and deal with the fact that you're going to lose that spot when you pull away. And screw your lawn chairs, traffic cones, and the assorted materials that substitute for territorial pissings. Want to be a real hero? Shovel your whole goddamned neighborhood and get the neighbors to pitch in. then you won't be fighting for spaces like cavemen.... with cars.
Now, I'm about to shock some of you. Sometimes shoveling, leaving chairs, and pissy notes are perfectly acceptable. The circumstances under which this is okay, however, is when, say, the entire eastern seaboard is buried under snow for two weeks. That was a real snow, folks--a genuine blizzard. Not this three-inch crap that causes the tinybrained folk to say, "Ugh! Me displace snow for hour. Me own PROPERTY now! Smash window! Make big poops on hood of interloper car! Haw haw! Is good!"
So, see? I can be perfectly unreasonable sometimes.
Now, I'm about to shock some of you. Sometimes shoveling, leaving chairs, and pissy notes are perfectly acceptable. The circumstances under which this is okay, however, is when, say, the entire eastern seaboard is buried under snow for two weeks. That was a real snow, folks--a genuine blizzard. Not this three-inch crap that causes the tinybrained folk to say, "Ugh! Me displace snow for hour. Me own PROPERTY now! Smash window! Make big poops on hood of interloper car! Haw haw! Is good!"
So, see? I can be perfectly unreasonable sometimes.