Wednesday, December 06, 2006
motion on the table
Hmmm. Not the unanimous response I was hoping for. Very well, I shall attempt to convert the yet unconverted. Following are my arguments for said proposal aforementioned heretofore and so forth:
Everything is dead. Cold and dead. Everyone has taken down the pretty colored lights and festive holiday decorations which served only as a distraction from the impending annihilation of life. It’s true. While we were singing Deck the Halls and gazing up at shiny, bright things, nature’s soul abandoned us. Like when Mom and Dad used to put Pinocchio in the VCR, and sneak out of the house, leaving us with the babysitter we hated because all she did was listen to her Air Supply album or talk on the phone, never playing with us or doing her freaking job. Heartless beast. Heartless, like the Arctic wind that beats against the barren trees. Heartless, like the incessant ice and snow that buries my little Suzy alive, whose only desire is to roam the highways warm and free. Heartless. Without a heart. This constitutes as dead. And speaking of dead, this leads to argument Numero Deu:
People in New England become half-frozen zombies. Everybody stops talking. It’s too cold to talk. Or be civil. Or raise your head to make eye contact. On the train, in the stores, at work, people just stare into space wishing they had joy. But there is no joy in New England. Nay. In January and February, the New England way of life becomes much like that scene from March of the Penguins. You know the one, where the penguins all huddle up together, without a peep amongst them, packing themselves in as tightly as they can, burying their heads, waiting for the storm to go away. It takes 143 days or something. And all they do in that time is stand there and try not to die. Can I get an Amen? Who in Boston knows the plight?
I’m sorry, did I hear one feeble voice from the back asking:
“But what about Valentine’s Day?!”
Someone fetch me a gun.
As for the President’s days and Martin Luther King Day, there are plenty of other days in the year when we can completely forget, or otherwise disregard the memory of these great men.
What’s that? Does someone have a birthday during January of February? Well friend, I’ve got the greatest solution ever for you: move your birthday to June. Haven’t you always wanted to know what it’s like to eat cake in shorts and a t-shirt? As a kid, didn’t you always want to have a swim party? This is your year. It’ll be so much fun, you’ll never go back. Promise.
If someone wants to retort with some verses from Ecclesiastes, about there being a season for everything, blah blah, just remember this: the New Testament is like totally better than the Old. So nyah.
If some scientist out there wants to rebut with some lecture about the necessity of winter for the possibility of spring, I would say this: we’re an advanced society. I’m sure you scientists can come up with a better way. If you can invent seedless watermelon, you can make winter go away and do it without ruining spring. So get on it.
These arguments, and others I am sure to come up with after I post this, all prove that there is nothing of even the remotest value in a New England January and February. They are entirely without merit, and moreover I believe they are damaging to the spirit. THEREFORE, I hereby place the aforementioned proposal back on the table for a vote. All in favor of doing away with Icky January and Poopy Pants February, please give me a resounding AYE!!!
Dad: Well, it's definitely winter out there.
Dad: But you know, soon it will be spring.
GMa: Mm hm.
Dad: And after spring, you got your summer. Then fall.
GMa: That's right.
Dad: And before you know it, it'll be winter again.
GMa: Isn't it strange?
PS-any thoughts on how to extend the seal clubbing season in Canada a few months longer??
The only good New England winter was the one that convinced the Red Coats to go back to England cause this place was far too bloody cold to fight for.
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