For those wondering why the quality of my columns have been declining in the last few days, it is because my energy has been sapped. I have a bad cold, and God willing will be back to my old self in a day or two.
Last night I got back from Chicago. For those who have never flown when ill, believe you me it is worse than it sounds. What little strength I had left was used to kiss the ground when I got back to Los Angeles.
Two snowstorms in three days made me realize what I think of any time I am in Chicago.
Animals live like this.
That’s right, animals. It is not for people.
While most people migrate to red states due to the low tax climate, make no mistake about it. Cold weather takes a toll on the human body that is just not at all human.
Growing up in New York, every time the weather turned bad, the power would go out. LILCO )Long Island Lighting Company) was a curse word in my home. The slightest droplet of rain meant no television reception.
When it would snow, my dad would exclaim, “Oh great, now we are all going to get the flu and die.”
He was right.
It is not just influenza that does people in. One of the most dangerous aspects of flying in bad weather is when icicles form on the wings. A tragic plane crash in Buffalo, New York would not have occurred under warmer conditions.
Snowball fights? Yeah right. Don’t throw it at me, I won’t throw it at you, and I won’t have to kill you.
Building a snowman? No. I can make enough money to buy one. They both die quickly anyway.
I remember one quiet moment indoors while visiting the previous sexual administration. We were safely indoors, and the snow was coming down hard. She pointed out that it felt like we were in a “snow globe.” She thought it was romantic. I was praying to God that the seals on her window were working perfectly.
I live in a building with underground parking, and I work in a building with underground parking. My life is set up so the bad stuff never has to touch me. On the rare occasions it rains in Los Angeles, somebody else can take down the company mail. Lunch can be delivered.
Some people love the change of seasons. I want sunny and 72 degrees every day of the year. For every person that romanticizes cold weather, I say we refuse to treat them in hospitals for hypothermia or influenza. After all, if they want to live like Canadians, they can be treated like Canadians…slowly.
I made it out of Chicago alive. Yet some people choose to voluntarily live there.
I keep hearing that living in cold weather climates toughens people up. I lived in New York 18 years. I have nothing to prove. Now I want to enjoy my remaining decades on Earth far away from bone chilling temperatures.
Yes, I watch the NFL. Yes, I know the players play in frigid weather while I cheer them on from an indoors haven in Los Angeles. Yet make no mistake about it. These players are just as human as I am.
Keith Jackson threaten to retire before the 1996 season when the Miami Dolphins wanted to trade him to the Green Bay Packers. He was at the tail end of his career, and did not want to play in frigid weather. He relented, and joined the team. After the Packers won the NFC Title Game, Keith Jackson held up the George Halas Trophy. The Super Bowl still remained, but Keith Jackson was asked if he was happy he came to the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field. He remarked that he was happy to be going to the Super Bowl, but that, “It is cold out here. I am going inside and getting in the Jacuzzi.”
Brett Favre became a hero in Green Bay, but he did not live there. He lived in Kiln, Mississippi.
It is not just sports. Every aspect of life is worse during cold weather. If I hear one more person tell me about global warming while I am freezing to death, I am going to deck them.
Anyway, tomorrow will be back to the world of politics, sports, and everything else that separates this blog and other columns dealing with hard news from stream of consciousness rants.
As I left snowy Chicago, I sang the song made famous by Rock Group Poison.
“I wanna go…I wanna go home now.”
I got my wish. I made it home.
In Chicago they sing “Sweet Home Chicago.” They sing “Baby Dontcha wanna go.”
No, I don’t. There is nothing sweet about it.
Off to sleep, and lord willing, soon enough, breathe.
At least I escaped the land of the savages, and made it back to where the sun shines.
Let the animals stay up north. They choose to live there. They deserve what they get.
eric
