You see, in Illinois, winter is less a season than all-out war. Arctic wind sweeps across the prairie drilling us from every direction. Then the big guns unload snow, ice, sleet, freezing rain, and hypothermia. We swiftly retaliate by turning into a population of dorks.
Every man, woman, and child has chronic hat hair (except for bald guys, who have frost). We all have chapped faces. We all waddle under layers of thermal underwear. We all have tissues up our sleeves, like bad magicians. We’re cartoon characters, except no one’s laughing. Oh, it’s funny, but our faces are frozen.
Indoors, shut away from the harshest cold, life continues to assail us with indignities. Goose bumps. Bare floors. Condensation on eyeglasses. And, most humiliating of all, static electricity. Each of us, individually, generates enough static electricity to light a Christmas tree. Hair stands on end in a graphic parody of terror. Clothes cling in mortifying, suggestive ways and occasionally spark coming out of the dryer, which poses a fire hazard — a not unwelcome thought.
Life is arduous in times like this. Even simple stuff — filling the gas tank, getting in the shower, getting out of the shower –takes a superhuman effort.
Why aren’t state officials howling in protest? These conditions must violate the Geneva Convention somehow. Today’s air temperature is a harrowing -3º and with the wind chill it’s -17º. By comparison, the North effing Pole is a balmy 10º. Antarctica, largely uninhabited and ice-covered, is -14. That’s an alarmingly slim difference of only 11 º.
Somewhere a cosmic door is wide open, letting all the cold air out. Which begs the question: is the globe actually warming or has the frigid, subzero cold just relocated? To my damn neighborhood? This is beyond distressing. The world as we know it is teetering precariously toward extinction and the incoming President declares climate change a Chinese hoax.
Thank you, Trump voters.
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