Winter of Our Discontent...

What word makes everything instantly worse? It starts with a “W” and ryhmes with winter. That’s right, winter. I hate this season. I came to Duke to escape this icy wench, but she’s even colder and wetter here.

Let’s start with the recent weather. Some people say the rain is God’s tears. Well God, you better have a kidney stone because these little showers you’ve gifted us feel like the cold, stale weepings of a bitter, old bastard. And if there’s one thing I hate more than rain, it’s wind. At least with rain you can collect some of it and, in an act of defiance, violently dump it out. What can I do with wind? Angrily fill up a paper bag and pop it? “Die wind!” I await your warm embrace, Satan.

What does this cold winter hell mean for me? I’m as sick, fragile and delusional as a pope. My throat hurts so badly right now it feels like I’ve been trying to deep throat a dildo wrapped in barbed wire.

Some would say being sick isn’t always bad. In my house, you got to stay home, locked in the basement eating only bread and water—Mom’s home remedy. “Soup? That’s just a suburban myth.” When I’m sick, I like to spoon with the couch and my dear old friend, the tube. But since the Olympics started, there isn’t a single good thing on cable. (Note: my HBO subscription was recently cancelled. Yay poverty!)

It would be too easy to say the Winter Olympics blow, but it’s more like NBC is strangling them. I love the Winter Olympics like I love a snow day, but NBC is doing what my neighbor used to do to me on snow days: take me outside and stuff snow in my face, mouth and down my jacket until I run home. It made the joy of playing in the snow a nightmare. Commericals every other minute, curling or figure skating twice an hour and then full coverage of cross-country skiing? Can we just add bobsled, skeleton, luge, downhill skiing and hockey to the Winter X Games?

There’s no speed skating either. People watch this sport for the same reason they watch NASCAR—the crashes. Speed skating is lucky Stephen Colbert bailed it out. He’s emerged as a true hero at these Olympics. He’s like my big brother who would come out, grab the neighbor off me, urinate in the snow and then stuff yellow snow in the bully’s face, mouth and down his jacket. Talk about a true American. DEFEAT THE WORLD!

Recently on his show, Colbert interviewed NBC’s Olympic talking head Bob Costas, who said, “I don’t care that much who wins. I just want good, interesting stories.” Is that why I’m watching you tell some sob story about a sick sled dog instead of Ovechkin vs. Crobsy! The Iditarod isn’t part of the Olympics, BOB. Be more American, BOB.

And the Oscars only make the winter worse. They make me grouchy… cricket? But seriously, they drive me Wilde... OK, I’m done. The winter is when I want to be inside watching a movie, but no one wants to put out a movie right before the Oscars. I tried to go to a movie the other night and you know what was out? Nuthin’.

The only one semi-worth seeing right now is Shutter Island, but spoiler alert: Jack dies. Shutter Island starts sinking, and Jack tries to swim away but the water is too cold. Eventually, he comes across a door with Kate Winslet on it. If he got on the door it would tip her off, so he just freezes to the side of it like an icicle and eventually chips off, sinking to an icy wintry grave. That’s exactly how Jack felt then, and that’s how he feels now.

Jack want Spring Break. Jack want it now, BOB.

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