Baby, It’s Medium Outside

Holy shit. It is balmy outside. I am sweating. After two days of single-digit temperatures, it is a glorious 30 degrees in New York City and I am alive! The insides of my windows don’t even have ice on them. I’m only wearing one pair of pants! My shirt is cut lower than a turtleneck. I haven’t found my face covered in the involuntary tears of a person whose eyes have given up on trying to be warm and are hemorrhaging sadness even once today. As we head into a small reprieve of what will surely be one of the worst winters to date, let us not forget that what was once horrible can be upgraded to positively mediocre. And we will worship at the altar of that mediocrity.

happy

Today on the elevator in my office building, I heard a fucking idiot say, “Supposed to be 55 and rainy this weekend. That’s just nature’s way of rebalancing itself,” and the obviously junior coworker he was with titter nervously. As I bit down on my spontaneously bleeding inner cheeks so as not to scream, “No, you asshole, we have taken away nature’s ability to rebalance itself. Nature is fucking just trying to take the edge off of all the shit we cram into it by taking a little upper.” Tomorrow, someone will say or do something much more terrible, and that moron’s ignorant comment that turned the effects of global warming into an adorable thing nature was “trying” will seem like a balmy 30 degree evening in Brooklyn. As we head out into the world with a bunch of people too stupid to pull their head’s out of their asses, let us not forget that mediocre is far short of good.

serious

 

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