I'm so tired of the wind-chill factor I could scream, but every time I take a deep breath my lungs freeze.

I don't care for football on television, but since there isn't much else to do when the front door is iced shut, I sat through the Cincinnati-San Diego laugher and watched Dan Fouts sputter and fume like a surfer boy spending his first winter in Alaska.

It was cold. Big deal. If you go to the Midwest in January, bring your mittens.

What drove me nuts was Bryant Gumbel and his cohorts harping incessantly about how cold it really was. Never mind that it was minus-6 degrees Fahrenheit with a north wind blowing 25, which is all you need to know.

The bloody wind-chill factor claimed it felt like it was minus 59.

It's the silliest thing I ever heard. Nobody knows what it feels like to be minus-59 degrees anymore, because if it ever got to be minus 59 they would say it really felt like minus 128, because of (you guessed it) the wind-chill factor.

As an outdoorsman who has ice-fished at minus 40 in northern Manitoba in February, I can guarantee that those muscle-bound city boys wouldn't be running around chasing a football in their undershirts if it either felt like or actually was minus 59.

Ever since they invented the wind-chill factor, people have grown more and more confused about what temperature it really is. The other day my neighbor was out in his driveway adding antifreeze to his car because "they said the wind chill was going down to minus 30 tonight."

A car doesn't give a hoot about wind-chill factor. Whatever temperature it is, that's what temperature the steel and aluminum descend to, and that's what temperature the antifreeze has to be good to.

I think wind chill is something dreamed up by television meteorologists (along with THI--your summertime temperature-humidity index) to attract attention. Heaven knows, they tell us litle enough about the weather.