The Diaries of Dr. Fred

Here in New England we were just hit hard by one of the worst blizzards in recent history.  At my home I registered 34 inches on flat windless ground.  Drifts were nearly four and a half feet tall, and the sides of my driveway are now guarded by walls of snow taller than six feet.  A friend of mine, a very Conservative Frenchman (not an oxymoron, it turns out they exist), has been posting these on Facebook, enjoy:

Excerpts from the diaries of Dr. Fred, Professor of Unadvisable Studies at the University of Tocqueville in Paris, France:

Entry 1:  I have chosen to exile myself among the fascinating natives of Nooyngland. I share their lives, their works, and what passes for food in these parts.

Today, the tam-tam is abuzz with rumors of an impending storm of calamitous intensity. I am scoffing. “Surely,” I say, “this cannot be as bad as the Great Storm of ’89, which covered Paris with almost 15 centimeters of snow?” Uncomprehending looks. “Six inches,” I add, translating civilized units into the quaint local measurements based on body parts. “You’ll see,” they answer quizzically.

I hate it when they are condescending. That *my* job.

Entry 2:  Merde alors. They weren’t kidding. Snow up to the porch, roads covered. About 2 elbows of snow. I mean feet (wrong body part).  The storm is over. The natives tell me I better get my bottom end out there and clear a path in the snow before it ices over. Zut, so much for la sieste.

Our excavation team starts to clear a path. My guide helpfully poses to let readers gauge the depth. It is worse than it looks.

Entry 3:  The goal of our digging expedition is to unearth the Sacred Artifacts of Quick Mobility. It’s somewhere in that burial mound. Another such artifact (the red thing on the left) pokes out, thanks to a capricious wind. Not that it helps much, it can’t go anywhere.

Entry 4: We are progressing toward the Artifact. The native guide is growing restless. “There is a curse!” she warns.”

Entry 5: I pause in my efforts. It looks like my copy of the Journal of Impractical Endeavors won’t be coming in the mail today.

Entry 6: I reached the entrance of the Tomb of the Lost Hyundai. I briefly contemplate the futility of this enterprise. When the Powers-that-Be finally send the Holy Plow to our village, it will build a wall between the driveway and the road. I need to look up the local regulations on explosives.

Entry 7: The curious reflective object poking out in this picture bears some cryptic engravings that translate approximately as “Snowstorms up to the mirror are bigger than they appear.”


  1. sally1137 says:

    Keep warm! Hope you don’t have to go anywhere for a day or two.

  2. We got about a foot, maybe, in Michigan. But there ain’t no telling what you’re gonna get in Michigan. Some years, Christmas dinner is a BBQ outside. Other times, Easter is a blizzard. You just never know.

  3. I’ve lived in four blizzards of this type in four states in my life – Denver, CO; Columbus, OH; Aurora, IL; and Swisher, IA. They are not fun!

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