Putting all our plans on ice
Where was I when God was humming, “Let it snow, let it snow”?
Suddenly, everyone I know schlepped to Florida. The state now has more New Yorkers than alligators. Their mouths, however, remain the same width.
One lady, so rich her body parts grow mink hairs, had to fly commercial. Her behind alone was a carry-on. And that didn’t include a tennis racket, golf clubs, tanning oil or young guy to chauffeur her once she got him driving lessons.
The stewardess was hurrying. Her date night was with the pilot in Orlando. Then came a kerfuffle. Two passengers had the same seat, so they’d given my friend a few dollars to get off. Please! She spends more than that on lubrication. They offered her a Bahama Mama, which is vodka, peach liqueur, orange juice, schnapps, pineapple juice, raspberry something and cranberry something else. She was careful not to have more than two because she had the early flight back to NYC.
A New Yorker clearing snow from the sidewalk on Third Avenue in Manhattan on Jan. 26, 2026. Matthew McDermott for NY Post
Anyway, we know it snowed here, on the day the New York Post went rogue. So, where and how did that specific Columbia recording of “Let It Snow” begin?
Winter blues song
It began in California, in July 1945. Sweltering heat wave. Sammy Cahn wrote it. Jule Styne did the music. Frank Sinatra recorded it in 1950. “Let It Snow” caught on with its lyrics: “The weather outside is frightful/ But the fire is so delightful/ Since we’ve no place to go/ Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” Yeah, fine. But better that should start in a sunny state.
Some movies to watch during a snowstorm: There’s Jake Gyllenhaal and Dennis Quaid walking in giant yellow parkas, looking like taxis, in 2004’s “The Day After Tomorrow.” To see something warm and fuzzy, try tropical Minnesota in “Fargo,” in which, playing a used car salesman, William H. Macy is into getting his wife kidnapped. Always comforting to view in a blizzard. He could’ve stuck her outdoors and used her as an hors d’oeuvre. You just have to be creative.
Get opinions and commentary from our columnists
Subscribe to our daily Post Opinion newsletter!
Thanks for signing up!
It’s so effing cold here that Italian pizzerias changed to winter weight olive oil. Our new mayor might be trying his new bidet. This way we can call him “Smart Ass.” Cold? Hot-ass Bill Clinton’s acting frigid. I just got word that Biden — remember him? — is hunting for a roommate with a high fever. And Donald better hurry. Greenland’s shrinking into an ice cube.
Thirsty? Try a six-pack of Prestone. Sex? Before she says, “I’m not that kind of girl,” she will be. If not for goose bumps, big-ass Lopez would have no figure at all. God was actually humming, “Be grateful for your heartburn.”
Listen, you know it’s chilly when your neighbor’s husband even looks attractive.
Stellar trips for zodiacs
Astrologers say to plan vacations around the zodiac. Aries? Italy’s Mt. Etna. Taurus? Hedonistic spots like the Greek island Sifnos. Gemini? Shopping in the markets in Marrakech. Cancer? Mexico’s Casa Azul, home of Frida Kahlo. Leos love love, so hop a freighter to Alexandria. Worked for Cleopatra and that Marc Antony. Virgo? Go nature. Estonia. Most of the country’s forest. Libra? Provence, France. Scorpio? Fog-covered beaches of Namibia’s Skeleton Coast. Sagittarius? Drive Route 66 or Australia’s Outback. I did it once, so lotsaluck. Brake for koalas. Capricorn? Oh, who knows? Aquarius? Texas’ Big Bend National Park. Pisces? Water. Try Pamukkale, Turkey. And if I missed something, you’re on your own.