The European horse meat scandal has J.P. Devine wondering about childhood meals and the fates of famed horses of yore.

The state might not want you to know who’s carrying a hidden firearm, but J.P. Devine knows how to spot a Gat in a crowd.

I know how overwhelmed you are by the news, getting your concealed-weapon permit, fretting about the sequester, sending get-well cards to the survivors of that Carnival cruise ship in Mobile, Ala., and wondering if the Chinese military has hacked your Facebook homepage. But this item may be about you.

OMG, the Pope is retiring. Pope Benedict XVI is retiring from the Vatican only months before she, who retires from teaching in June. Of course, this is a coincidence, but still of interest.

Just as I was preparing to set the back deck on fire to get some warmth in the house, all Gehenna broke loose on the news.

She sits there in her comfy chair in total darkness and utters not a word. I don’t think she knows that the power went out just as I was really getting into the rerun of reporter Andrea Mitchell’s interview with Hillary Clinton.

When I was 22 years old, I killed a cop. I was serving in the Air Force in San Francisco, and I stood no more than six feet away from him, and I shot him four times and he fell, but not before my ears started ringing and kept ringing for three hours.

It’s still there. Through all of the rush and clamor, the fiscal plummet, Lance Armstrong’s confession, the spilled wine and tears, it’s still there.

It’s out there and it won’t go away now. It will be there for Easter probably. It’s cold stuff and wet and corroding and dangerous. Snowmobilers and skiers like it. Kids like it, and my snowplow man who works harder than I do and makes much more money, is happy to see it come.

It’s here. If you don’t have it, the guy next to you in line at the market or sitting in the next chair at the barber shop does. They all have the same excuse, “Don’t worry, I’m over it now.”