Wednesday, January 06, 2010

Is That an Icicle or Are You Glad to See Me?

Found myself in New York City this morning, for once quite by design rather than the happenstance of past years. And found myself there to be cold, quite cold, really fucking cold to the point of gulagian discomfort.

Last night I played some Lewis Black, ranting on about cold so from that perspective I am not going to apologize for the use of colorful invectives. Particularly against this fucking weather.

Mothers, put your children away, lest they Twitter that Mom's reading a blog that talks like they heard teacher when someone opened a door right into her new Corolla.

But to the cold: I laughed at Black's archetypical rant against the weather last night but somehow, although the words and vocal intonation played in my head this morning, it wasn't so funny after all.

FUCK ITS COLD!!

Somewhere around nine I was walking through Times Square waiting for a ball to drop. One would do although two would take some of the additional discomfort of walking out of the picture. I gave in around fiftieth street to barrel into a sporting goods store (they were open) and bought a N.E. Patriots wool cap.

Coupla' reasons. One, I'm a Pats fan. Two, I'm not a not a New York fan of any stripe but thats beside the point. The point being that the Giants are truly, like the Yankees, a team of the Devil. Anyone with the audacity to rob someone of a perfect season just to claim a silly little Super Bowl ring has to be in the employ of a certain B.L. Zebub.

The season was such big news that it even made NPR, not normally known for sports reporting outside of U Penn sculling. I remember Carl Kassel announcing an almost perfect season for the New England Pahtroyuts. Remember, this was NPR. Patriot is a foreign word.

Then the New York Devil-Worshipping Harbinger's of Hell win the Super Bowl.

I think that may have a lot to do with weather today.

At least to my Foxboro state of mind.

Bunny on.

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