Ah, here it is— Death. And by Death I mean winter, everyone’s favorite and most lovable season. What a load of crap. Old Man Winter is a cruel and evil tyrant and all his lame shenanigans are messing with my already fragile mental state.

It started today at the gas pump— when some Nordic-looking man in overalls driving a jacked-up Chevy Silverado made the comment that it’s supposed to be the worst winter ever. He followed this by telling me he preferred it. That all this sunlight and warmth makes him sweat uncontrollably and that if he had it his way he’d make it stay freezing cold all of the time. Possibly forever.

Oh my, what awful words to utter to person at 6 a.m. on a Tuesday out in front of the Nickerson Kwik Shop. For a moment, I actually thought about pouring the gasoline right onto him and his 4×4 truck and setting it all a blaze. Warmth, you fool. Heat. No one in the Donner party would have found you funny. I searched through my pockets for a lighter because, honestly, I felt like it was my pioneer duty to strike the bastard down. We’ve worked too hard crawling out of drafty sod houses to be put back in the meat locker now. And although you may like to think you’re some kind of distant relative of Odin, this is America. And America doesn’t want to wear a parka. It wants to wear flip flops and sunglasses—and nothing else.

But alas, it was pointless, because sadly— what that poor Nordic fool was saying was actually true. It is supposed to be the worst winter ever. Ancient Aztec prophecies have been warning us for years about the Great Nebraska Winter of 2014. In hieroglyphics on the walls of Templo Mayor, it thoroughly outlines all the terrible events that will happen— cars not starting, the scraping of the windshields, snowmen, cannibalism.

All of it too terrifying to actually think about. No doubt we’ll have to sacrifice thousands of virgins to stop this one. In fact, even a few non-virgins as well. Because let’s face it— we can’t be having these white walkers or yetis drifting around down here eating our brains and children. We need to heat this planet up. I’m doing everything I can. The car heater is turned up and the windows are down.

In fact, I’m wearing a Hawaiian shirt and swimming trunks right now— and after work I’m going down to the bar where girls in grass skirts will bring me a margarita. Perhaps several. The ones with the little umbrellas. Because this snow gibberish needs to go. Some people are afraid of Ebola. Not me. West Africa can’t be this bad.

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