You've all heard the myth of the durable and hardy Northern Midwesterner. He or she was conceived by the polar vortex and born through an ice hole on a lake named after one of the six thousand Native American words for snow.
The Minneapolis skyline.
I am writing this to tell you all, like Frodo's journey to Mordor, this is no myth. We survive on a steady diet of cold air. We give our shovels a lady's name because it is the only humping we are going to get until June.
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Surveillance footage of me walking to the job.
Look at the man in this Giphy clip. The spine hunches over and calcifies like a frozen question mark at the end of a glacial sentence. Fur grows in inhuman places. He looks about wildly.
Surveillance footage of God forsaking this place.
Do not come here. We are buried by multiple blizzards and the thermometer cries out for mercy. Send whiskey and weed. Pray for global warming.
Thank you.
Hah, is the last picture blue on purpose as the joke or a link error? Both work.
Empty blue sky is the joke.
That was hilarious! I feel your frozen pain from under a foot of ice that used to be snow in Western NY!