A few months ago, it snowed. In the spirit of manifesting your own reality and the perks of positivity, I stomached any ill feelings. In fact, I welcomed the white landscape with open arms, determined to look on the bright side of life. It was a nice change. I made and threw some snowballs, and I smiled through the first few dumpings of snow. Then the snow kept coming -- in record-breaking amounts. Months went by. Now, tonight and tomorrow, my neighborhood is set to get another foot. Good God, this is enough!

I've learned my lesson: never welcome the snow, because the first year you do, the snow will slam into you over and over again for months -- laughing at your positive idiocy while it torments you with sadistic, stinging snowflakes. Now tonight, as I curl up in the safety of my apartment, I could watch some sort of tropical films, but that would just make me angry. Once you get to a certain point, the weather you dream of is more of a low-blow taunt than a nice escape. So, I'm going to give you two films laden with snow, but with enough bad vibes to make a simple, snow-covered night not so bad. I am, of course, talking about Fargo and The Sweet Hereafter.