It’s winter time.
Ole Jack Frost has been wreaking havoc all across the Fruited Plain, from Texas to New England.
I have lived in Colorado in the Rocky Mountains at about 8600 above sea level and now I live in Maine, so I am not a stranger to brutal winters – wind, snow, ice, been there done that.
When I woke up yesterday morning it was 12 degrees below zero with a wind chill of minus thirty! In the vernacular of meteorological circles this bitter blast of Old Man Winter is referred to as TFC – Too Fucking Cold.
I bring this up because when the weather turns nasty like that, there is very little recreation to be had in Maine. Sure, you can go snow skiing or snowboarding, but I don’t do that shit. People die from doing these sorts of things, I prefer to let Father Time and Jesus call me home when my time comes. I have never skied nor snowboarded and I have lived 58 years without a winter sports related broken bone, torn ligament or severe head injury from crashing into a pine tree or some shit. It is also a well-known scientistic fact that among the most common winter sports injuries is the Gazebo Separatum, or as you may know it “the nut sack ripped out by the roots immediately upon a violent collision with a BFT (big fucking tree)”.