It was a painful seven degrees here on Sunday and my car doors were frozen shut.
That’s not climate change. That isn’t El Niño, either. That’s effing winter. I thought we were supposed to be warmer. Isn’t that the theory behind global warming? Where’s the warming?
In New York, apparently. They were in shirt sleeves, the lucky bastards. Check it out, there was a 50º difference between them and us. How can that be? They aren’t south, they’re east at practically the same latitude. And they’re basking.
Antarctica’s temperature was closer to ours, showing only a 25º variance. Shouldn’t that be huger? Shouldn’t they be like 100 degrees colder or 1,000? Something is terribly wrong here. Terribly and unfairly wrong. I want to bask, too.
Frankly, I think world weather is on the fritz. Some rogue meteor came hurtling along and knocked everything off course, launching weather patterns into weird, unfettered trajectories. Highs and lows and jet streams are cavorting all over the place now, crashing around and breaking things. Records, mostly.
Well, snap out of it. Go back where you’re supposed to be. And please, for the love of God, stop snowing on me. I hate that.
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