Cue dat joke!
Daniel Tosh – Seasons
There’s definitely some truth to this Tosh fellas words. When you move from a seasonal climate to the ceaselessly “sunny and seventy” Southern Californian coast you do so, often, because ceaselessly sunny and seventy sounds super sweet.Think about it: If you were gonna pick a description for the day’s appearance you would probably choose sunny, right? And if somehow, someway you were given the chance to set the thermostat for your entire surrounding area, seventy would probably be a well-received number. But the thing they don’t tell you about sunny and seventy everyday is that eventually everyday feels like any day until one day you look out the window and have the once improbable thought, Hmmm, it’s sunny and seventy today. Must be July. Or is it December? Who’s President?
Look, when December rolls around and it’s sunny and seventy I won’t be complaining. I know better than to talk shit about a beautiful day while you’re freezing your man tits and lady balls off in Snowsville. But while we’re all soaking up the Summer sun during the month I am reasonably convinced is July, let’s take a moment to acknowledge the one thing that’s good about season changes: If you’re living in Chicago, say for instance, every inch of your body knows when it’s December. Your body hates it, but it knows it. Here, I’ve described things that happened six months ago as having happened yesterday and vice versa. If I hear about a Christmas sale on the radio I have to wait to hear if they say “in July” because I honestly don’t know. Look, I’m not asking again, who’s President?
Climate shifts can indicate more than just the passing of time. If you’re one of the people living in Chicago from the last example and suddenly it starts snowing in July you have it on good authority the apocalypse is coming. No such luck here. On the day of the apocalypse it will be sunny and seventy in Los Angeles and we’ll all wake up, walk out to cars and unknowingly drive off into certain death. Is it better to enter into the endless abyss ignorantly? I answer that question with a question: Who’s President?
Seriously, I just want to know the name of the President of the United States. This has nothing to do with the seasons anymore. That was a feeble attempt to cover for my own ignorance. I haven’t picked up a paper in like six years. Is it Taft? No, that’s the street I live on. Really?! It’s the black guy? Yeah, right. You’re just fucking with me. Fine then, don’t tell me ya jerk. Your city blows.
My name is Ben and I’m gonna start my Christmas shopping now, just in case.
