|Lately, I've begun feeling as morose|
as this guy
Why? Because of the accursedly miserable weather, that's why! After an endless assault of cold, extra cold, and extra-extra-cold, not to mention ice storms, snow storms, slush storms, wind storms, blizzards, nor'westers, and miscellaneous additional meterological afflictions, I've had it. I'm fried. I'm frozen. I'm formidably frazzled. I am not, to put it short, in a good mood. I'm not merely a crank these days. I'm crankier than cranky.
Hey, fifty years ago, the forerunners of today's Teaparty fear mongers used to point to Sweden and say, "You see? Sweden has socialism. They even have socialized medicine. And guess what?" There would be a pregnant pause and then the right-winger would pop me with his deadliest bullet. "They have the highest suicide rate in the world!"
But I've come to see, most especially in recent weeks, that socialized medicine has nothing to do with it. It's the weather, stupid. If you had to spend half your life freezing in the dark of a Scandinavian winter, or trudging through snow and slush, you too might be tempted to get into bed witha bottle of Aquavit, a pistol, and Gunilla, and join her in a spirited game of Russian Roulette.
Even down in the Red States, where dinosaurs roamed the forests with Early Man, (i.e., descendants of Adam and Eve) and carbon dated fossils are considered a divine practical joke played on dimwitted scientists, they haven't been able to deny away the weather. Even the Red Staters, now that their trucks and SUVs are skidding and crashing into one another on the Interstates, no longer seem to be denying we're enduring a climate change. It's just the cause of the change that makes them differ with the rest of us. Pollution? Too much carbon in the air? Holes in the Ozone Layer? Don't be silly.
It's all due to "Mother Nature" I heard some Georgia official say on TV this morning while I was brushing my teeth and he was preparing for a tree-busting, powerline-smashing ice storm. Yeah, good old Ma Nature. She's no relation either to God or to climate change. She just a little old lady romping around out there in the snow, in her galoshes and house coat, doing her nasty little thing to the weather.
Hey, I've got a bright idea for the creationists. Pray for sixty degrees and sunny. That way, when the weather finally gets up to sixty and sunny some time this spring, you can say, "Hallelujah! You can't argue with the power of prayer."
And then you can get out of the truck with the pistol you keep in the glove box, and blast Ma Nature right between the eyes. Later you can claim it was self-defense and you were standing your ground.
Just don't tell me about it, please. As you may gather, I'm not in a good mood. Not in the slightest.