OK, I’m declaring it. The worst of the cold is over. Has to be. On Friday it will be 30 degrees. It will also be the last day of January. As my friend Mark used to say, “If you get to February, it’s practically over.” That’s not true, Groundhog Day foolishness to the contrary, but it’s close enough to true that you can fool yourself about it for a while. Then it’s Valentine’s Day, the traditional time to have an ice storm at this latitude, and then it’s just a fortnight until the shortest month of the year is over, and it’s March. First St. Patrick’s Day, then the first day of spring really arrives, along around the three-week mark. Then opening day, the first green mist on the trees.
Of course, this being Michigan, there will be a few snows in there, too. Last year I had my eye surgery on May 2. The spring leading up to it was awful, and the warmth arrived just as I was spending five days staring through my padded toilet seat.
So: Just (potentially) three more months of winter! But you see how I chopped it up like that? It’s just a series of fortnights and little mini-holidays.
But the -7 bullshit of this morning? OVER. So let it be written, so let it be done.
Seems like a day for a You Fuckers roundup. I was in a toleratin’-it mood until 3 p.m., when I called the bakery to find out what was left before I trudged over there, and discovered the entire place had been cleaned out. Time for some fuckers.
Perhaps you’ve heard about the jihad against Wendy Davis, aka “Abortion Barbie,” who is said to have slept her way into marriage to an affluent man, who then had to “raise their kids alone” while she went off to Harvard Law school. The slut! How dare she…do what conservatives counsel poor women to do, i.e., boost her socioeconomic status through marriage? Well — it shouldn’t surprise you to learn this — it turns out that it’s not entirely true. So: Fuckers.
And then there’s the National Review, specifically Kathryn Jean Lopez, abortion warrior, and this thing. I think Roy Edroso said it best: Put the family through hell with your ghoulish wingnut theology, then weep crocodile tears over them. Fuckers.
Not part of the roundup: Madonna, what are you doing? Asks Lindy West.
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.