Some people like rain drops on a tin roof.

Some people like rain drops on a tin roof. Others like basking in the sun. Kids like to build forts in the snow. But my favorite weather is heads above them all, sleet.

Sleet reminds us mere mortals to be decisive: Am I snow? No, I'm rain. Wait, I'm sn-SMASH! dead. People ask me, "Mr. Jim Cantore, how are you so buff?" and I say, "A diet of sleet

bemoaned the cadaverish well-dressed man. I said, "Yeah, well it takes one to know one." And then the man said, "Hah! Birds of a feather flock together." So I retorted, "Never look

a gift horse in the mouth." Then he hit me--smacked me in the mouth. Blood everywhere. Some people can't take being out-proverbed. It's a macho thing with them. "It takes 2 to tang

o!" "Takes one to know one!" "Be gone with you now. Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya," I said smartly. "Don't mess with the bull. You'll get the horns."

"Long live the ruckus!" they were shouting outside in the street. I took a peak and the crowd was big and getting bigger. People were being bused in from out of state. The Governor

thought back to that time when he was a kid, taking a bus cross-country to see his dying granny, which was never, and The Governor wondered about these dimwitted constituents assem

bled outside his bathroom door. "Go away!" the Governor hissed through the door, but he could hear them out there giggling and shushing each other. How could he "make" with all

The squabbling over the underfinanced pensions? The railroad workers were especially furious and the teachers were ready to strike. The Governor was never to survive this one;