My 93-year Big MaMa called the other night to notify me that the San Francisco area may finally get some rain after suffering emergency drought conditions for many months.
I thought that was nice of her to phone in the updated broadcast – especially while in the East we are being walloped by snowy weather colder than necrophilia; that is, the uncontrollable urge to crack open a cold one.
But weather and bowel movements are my mother’s favorite subjects de jour. As it is for most of us unimaginative folks. If it wasn’t for the weather the majority of us wouldn’t know how to start a conversation. Then again, a little while back when I was introduced to a remarkably endowed TV weather girl, we immediately started talking up more than a storm — and more than just about why hurricanes are always named after women.
Hmm…Got to be a sudden heat wave…
Anyway, in case you never noticed, whether or not the weather today is what you want, it is merely what comes…Like homosexuality, it just is. Nothing more or less. As I’ve said many times, Mother Nature has no rewards or punishments, she just has consequences. She don’t give a damn what plans you may have in the works.
Like in Kiev where the ins and the outs are killing each other amidst freezing Arctic blasts over their economic future. And the uncivil war in the heat and cold of Syria to overthrow a genocidal despot. And the slaughtering of helpless women and children in the tropical storms of Central Africa. And trying to keep the tempest and lightning out of Sochi for the about to begin Winter Olympics. And meanwhile the stock market is suddenly getting inclement.
What this all should tell us is that we may be able to control the climate in our cars and homes and office buildings, but there’s not a damn thing we can do about the weather… except pour a bigger drink.
So even if you are a garrulous drunk, why is it that we, who officially value freedom of speech above life itself, seem to have little more to talk about other than the weather. Or, something petulantly as perfunctory – such as football. Or some woman’s onion derriere.
Hmm…I got tears in my ears from laying on my back crying over your dear rear.
Indeed, climate is what we expect, but weather is what we get — whether we want it or not. It’s nothing personal. The weather isn’t about you. Or me. It’s just life. The weather doesn’t take sides. If it did we’d send it to Guantanamo and charge it with being a traitor.
And the reason I am reminding you of all this, is that I can’t stand all this unthinking, token discourse when there is, supposedly, so much more urgently in need of debate and discussion. There are so many things that we should be storming, shivering and sweating about.
Well, aren’t there?
Like the lack of public education. And why everybody shouldn’t be going to overnight camp – aka college. And rebuilding our infrastructure. And kicking the over compensated politicians outta Washington. And the State House…And the City Council…And why more Wall Street guys aren’t going to jail. And why we are spending so much money fighting drugs, instead of the processed food our bodies can’t process…And why since we were all immigrants at one time or another, can’t we fix our xenophobic immigration system. And why lawyers hide justice in the over abundance of contradictory laws. And why us folks can’t even get our radios fixed yet we think we can fix the world with ‘our’ democracy. And why we are a country that has fumbled the football of our own government by the people, for the people and of the people…And why every time someone invents something bigger, better and cheaper the government makes it too expensive…
There just appears to be so much more we should talk about — matters that we can actually DO something about. I mean we all complain about the weather, but can you DO anything about it?
And now in a couple of days, we’ve got the biggest annual show-us-you’re-richer than-the-rest-of-us-party of the year coming up in the New York City metropolitan area — sometimes referred to as New Jersey. And everybody’s kvetching that it’s going to be too cold, or snow or rain on their parade. Hotel rooms aren’t selling out. Scalpers are having to lower their overpriced tickets.
And I’ve got to wonder: Wots-a-madder-with-youse?
It’s just a game. They’ve been ‘playing’ the Super Bowl for nearly 50 years. It ain’t the World Cup. It is merely American sumo wrestling for office betting pools. For most of this country it involves two teams few of us would even care about if it wasn’t for TV pummeling us with concussive, round-duh-clock, T&A promotions.
It’s nothing but showbiz making a lot of money on us poor 99 percent-ers. It isn’t momentous. It’s merely a distraction from what the 1 percent-ers don’t want us to think about – that is, what they and their well-financed government is doing to us.
But of course!
And politics ain’t nothing but show bizness for ugly people.
Anyway, I always thought the beauty of football was that it is to be enjoyed in any kind of conditions. Rain, sleet, snow or hale… and not in just some southern clime that enables painted women to show off their booty while virile men puff their steroid pectorals.
I think I need to pour a bigger drink. Too much is starting to sink my mental battleship. Little ol’ me must be listing starboard in a world that doesn’t care to know to which port it is sailing.
As far as I am concerned there is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather. It all amounts to weather…whatever… 24-hours a day on overpriced TV cable when Big MaMa used to look out a window and get it for nothing.
Yet no matter where you look it always seems to look worse and sound more threatening through the window of TV’s desperate broadcasters screaming for revenue ratings.
Inevitably, however, in the aftermath of any kind of scream, there always comes a calm.
That’s what I mean. It’s just life, no matter what. Like youth – it ain’t nothing but the storm before the calm.
Look, no one would have crossed the ocean if he could have gotten off the ship in the storm. In other words, if you want to see the sunshine, you have to weather the squall. It is what it is. Whining and complaining only makes it seem counterintuitive.
So why am I talking about the weather, when I am castigating everybody else for doing it?
Perhaps because people don’t mind the weather when they are happy. And I am marveling almost daily to my mother that we are finally having a real winter in Philadelphia. After several years with something tepid and mild we are freezing and snowed in. Sidewalks need shoveling. Streets need salting. And people are driving bumper cars.
And it all smells good. You can’t get too much winter in the winter. Because it will kill a lot of evil bugs. And soak the fallow fields. And gorge our rivers. And remind us all, as it did when I used to pilot my little airplane here, there and everywhere, that we ain’t as big, or as great, or as mighty as we think. That we ain’t nothing but a gnat on the ass of Mother Nature.
And, as we all know, it isn’t nice to fool with Mother Nature.
And about that I am quite willing to talk, talk, talk long past the winter solstice…for let these truths be self evident: That all men – especially moi – can ever be so humbled.
And dats yDrewIS on dis penal colony…