Ed. note: I received a call on my cell today from fellow Goodboy and reigning Goodboy champ Steve “Killer” Kowalski (he’s the dude on the left in the pic); thought you’d enjoy hearing what life is like back in New England this time of year. It’s not verbatim, but you’ll get the jist of his sentiments nevertheless. Me, I wouldn’t know – today it hit 74 degrees on my patio and the “Bubba’s Big Bamboo” ** I made tasted awfully fine as I lounged in my chair and looked out over the green grass and palm trees.

Like I’ve said previously, it took me an excruciatingly long time to embrace Arizona, but now you couldn’t pay me to be back living in New England this time of year. (Of course, check back with me in July and you’ll hear a totally different story. But that’s OK, I’ve never confessed to being a monument to integrity.)

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“Hey Great White Shank, Killer here. I’m driving up Route 128 and it’s freakin’ snowing and raining and the cars are piled up like the dirty snow piles on the side of the road. This place looks like Ice Station Zebra – without Ernest Borgnine, of course. We got two feet last week, and now the freakin’ weather forecasters can’t decide whether we’re going to get nothing or a big snowstorm tomorrow night…

[Ed. note: Sorry, Killer – it looks like the latter!]

“Anyways, I just wanted to tell you your last few posts were really spot on. Speakin’ truth to power, bro’. Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand? Are you kidding me? Awful. Pathetic. The end of freakin’ western civilization as we know it. And the Patriots on Sunday? We trusted in Bill [Pats coach Belicheck], now we have nothing. We’ve got [in Somerville, Massachusetts] people using sofas, chairs, trash barrels, and refrigerators to protect the parking spaces they shoveled out – it’s like a neighborhood garage sale, for gawdsakes! – but it doesn’t matter, the next snowstorm they’re all just going to get plowed in again. (That is, if the ice doesn’t get ’em beforehand.)

“I’m going to Vegas with you. Three weeks, I can’t wait. Anything that gets me out of the gray, the cold, the snow, the slush, the dirt, the cold mornings, the early evenings, the scrapers, the shovels, the union clowns in their snow plows, the whole freakin’ stinkin’ winter. I wish I was back honeymooning in St. Lucia. But believe me, I’ll take Vegas and golf, sun, warmth, and fun times with the Goodboys if that’s what it takes to get me out of this freakin’ freezer. Signing out, see you in three weeks!”

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Can’t say I disagree with my Goodboys mate. Just check out this amazing video. No freakin’ thanks. I think Killer’s sentiments are exactly what Jimmy Buffett had in mind some thirty years back when he wrote this song while playing an extended stay in Boston back in February of 1979.

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** What’s a Bubba’s Big Bamboo, you ask? Courtesy of Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville Las Vegas, it’s “a big stiff drink” that can haul away the mid-winter blues when you do the following:

Load a shaker 3/4 high with ice. Then…

1 shot Cruzan Vanilla Rum
1 shot Cruzan Banana Rum
1 shot Cruzan Black Strap Rum
1 shot Triple Sec

Then finish off with a splash of orange juice and a splash of pina colata mix.

Shake vigorously and pour into your favorite island glass (or anything that might be available – after all, beggars can’t be choosers!).

Fantastico!