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I don't know about you, but I'm getting good and tired of all those smug Yankees making fun of us in the South because we stop what we're doing and take cover at the first falling snowflake.

Yankees are ignorant of the power of Southern snow, just as they maintain a profound ignorance of the SEC, despite its demonstrated ability to humiliate teams from the Big 10, the Big 12 and other lesser football conferences. In fact, if you ask your typical Yankee what the SEC is, he'll tell you it's them fellers who regulate the stock market.

Southern snow is of a different variety from Yankee snow. It comes from the South Pole instead of the North Pole, and has to huff and puff its way uphill from Antarctica, fighting global warming every step of the way. By the time it gets here, its muscles are taut and its mood is violent. That's why a light dusting of Southern snow can bring Dixie to her knees to an extent we haven't seen since a guy named Sherman lit out from Atlanta to Savannah.

Yankee snow just slides down leisurely from the North Pole, and by the time it settles in, its muscles are soft and it's ready to lie down and rest for the remainder of the season. Southern snow is a lot more restless. It knows that it has but a short period of time, and it has to get the job done before our fierce Southern spring does it in.

We Southerners know what to do when snow starts falling. We get into our four-wheel drives and do figure-eights down to the Golden Pantry to lay in a good supply of Ice House beer, then try to get back before the blizzard covers the nut grass with white stuff.

("White stuff" is the term Southern TV personalities use to describe snow. It demonstrates that, although they don't see much of the stuff, at least they know what color it is.)

Up North, a blizzard can pile snow all the way up to the eaves and the natives hardly notice. Those who have outdoor facilities (the folks on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, for instance) simply shovel a tunnel through the stuff so that when nature calls they can grab their telephone directories and make themselves comfortable. (They used to take Sears Roebuck catalogs before Sears discontinued the publication. They don't need telephone directories to look up phone numbers, because most people are on Facebook or Twitter and, anyhow, they aren't too good at figuring out alphabetical order. Besides, everybody uses cell phones, which are not listed in the telephone directory. The directory has to be used for something, and in snowbound facilities, it's the rough equivalent of corn cobs.)

If there's a need to replenish their Stroh's, Yankees can jump onto their snowmobiles and head for Shopko, or they can wait a few minutes for the snow plows, which clear the way for their wimpish Kias and Hyundais and Cobalts. Southerners, of course, don't own snowmobiles because they're not dumb enough to spend big bucks on a contraption they'll use once every 10 years. They wouldn't risk their three-wheelers on snow-slick roads. And they don't wait for the snow plows. They know that when the first snowflake falls, the big boss at the county garage will call all the drivers and say, "No need to risk your backsides driving these treacherous roads, boys. Just kick back with a sixpack and watch those re-runs of the Saints whupping the Colts. It'll melt in a few hours."

When 10 feet of snow falls on Buffalo, the folks just yawn and head off for work -- those who have jobs.

When an inch of snow falls on Atlanta, the town is immobilized. Only truck drivers and maniacs (but I repeat myself) venture onto the Perimeter. Most of us would rather sky dive over Afghanistan than drive through snow over Spaghetti Junction, where I-85 meets I-285 to form utter chaos.

History teaches us that in the Great War of 1861-65, the Yankees needed a 4-1 advantage over us Rebs to make it a fair fight. I'm inclined to believe that it takes a much bigger preponderance of Yankee snow to equal the effects of Southern snow.

Down in the Florida Panhandle, which is known locally as the Redneck Riviera, just the potential for snow last week was enough to close the schools. Yankees never close their schools because of snow. The kids just put on their parkas and snow shoes and walk to classes.

In Clarke County, Ala., just north of Mobile, 2 inches of snow brought the closure of all county-maintained roads. In Evergreen, Ala., State Patrol Cpl. Steve Smith announced that the troopers would respond to emergencies only.

Their cars all had rear-wheel drive, which isn't the best for driving in snow, so they wouldn't venture onto the highways unless something drastic happened -- for instance, a robbery at Dunkin Donuts.

Not all the effects of a Dixie snowfall are negative. Nine months from now we may see a healthy rise in the birth rate down here. And for more immediate benefits, I give you the words of Sheriff Richard Stringer of Washington County, Ala.:

"People are staying in. They're not fussing like they do. Maybe that's what we need to stop some of these domestic situations: more snow." You said it, sheriff. It's your turn to go out for the Ice House, Bubba.

Write to Gene Owens at 315 Lakeforest Circle, Anderson SC 29625. E-mail: Swampscum2@aol.com