Perhaps Scott Norwood was an Apostle

Believe it or not, there are a lot of good things that have come out of Buffalo.

There are buffalo wings of course. The Bobs…McAdoo and Lanier. Super Bowl jokes. New Era caps. Niagara Falls. Rick James and Natalie Merchant. Labatts. Cheerios and Wheaties. The pre-homicidal OJ Simpson. The flick You Kill Me.

Problem is, Buffalo has a rather adversarial reputation when it comes to their weather. It’s not the Miami Beach reputation that Tony Montana coulda sold you on with nothing more than a head nod, a frothy Papaya shake and some really choice words about the female anatomy.

And it’s a rather unfortunate thing too. Because while Buffalo will never be mistaken for a “Girls Gone Wild” tour stop, it’s really not deserving of the shit end of the stick most folk are all too happy to attach to its environs.

There are cold weather places that tend to get a pass by many Americans. Places like Chicago, which has exactly two seasons- Winter and July. And even San Francisco, whose summers are colder than Mark Twain’s (Buffalo native) worst promise. These towns get a free pass for one simple reason. Most Americans don’t have to live there. Cause if they did have to live there? They would most likely, move.

And the thing is? When it comes to snow, Buffalo doesn’t even rate number one in its own state– which happens to be New York, even if New Yorkers won’t own up to the fact. And in terms of sunshine days, this progressive little town rates ahead of– are you sitting down for this?– sunshiny Orlando. As in Florida.

There’s a saying in Buffalo. “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” It’s meant to convey the fact that lake effects and that cranky cold war being waged from Canadian winds aside . . the town is nothing to be afraid of.

And then this happens . . .

A twenty hour traffic jam in Buffalo. A tin can sausage which came about as the result of a ginormous blizzard- some forty inches worth of snow ginormous. The kind of snow spectacle Tony Montana had on the desk in his office during the final scene of Scarface.

Maybe it’s time for the  good people of Buffalo to just up and move some place else. Pack up and move out and don’t even stop for a rest area till you hear Baptist preachers singing promises and 800 numbers cross the AM dial.

The good citizens of Buffalo deserve a better hand than the one they’ve been dealt. So maybe it’s time they take their talents elsewhere.

I’m thinking South Beach.

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