Exit Through A Clock On The Wall

There is a blistering cold approaching. People have always said that winter is the season of death. The illustrious bear goes into hibernation. The leaves have long since fallen off of the maple tree, and snow begins to fall on the western red cedar. It is not a season of actual death, people die every day. It is a season of death in nature.

I do not call it so. Winter is more alive, in many ways, than any other season of the year. Seasonal activities like curling, hockey, and downhill skiing are rampant and only occur during the winter months. Ski resorts once dry and barren are now chalk full of residents waiting for the next fresh powder drop. Snowmen come alive and tales of Hanukah and Christmas light up the hearts of children everywhere. Neigh, winter is not the season of death, although it may appear as such to the roaming pessimist. Winter is joyous fun for the whole family.

And then you have those ugly holiday shopping sprees. Sales for everything from shoes and shirts to sexy lingerie. The Macy's Holiday parade. The giant Christmas trees and the fake Santas. Black Friday. Stampedes of consumers trampling people to death at Walmart. What an ugly way to go.

Fat asses. Greedy bastards. Normal people. Every type of person is somehow amplified by the atmosphere of winter. And to think its bad here, try Afghanistan, where the snow hangs diligently waiting for you to make one wrong move.

Winter is not surely made the Season of death by its nature. It is made the season of death by people. The constant dynamic of interactions between actors creates a systemic problem of intercontinental proportion. Divy up a piece of that cake and serve it to me on a platter of naked women. I'd surely like to be a part of this.

That's called sarcasm. Comedic. Hilarious. Funny because it's true.

Where will you be this winter? Among the proverbial Christmas village, or hanging down south. This winter, I know where I'll be. Among friends and like minded acquaintances. Perhaps even attractive strangers. We'll never know until that day comes. Right now though, it's still fall. I'm getting a little ahead of myself. But that's what people have always said about me; like Fred Meyer setting up for Christmas the day of Halloween, I'm very forward.