I Propose We Put All the Weirdo Winter Humpers on a One-Way Train to Siberia

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Aren’t we just precious? Photo by Three Tickets Please

Yup, it’s that time of year again. They descend upon us to usher in the season like a flock of annoying, dumbass locusts. As soon as the first snowflake falls, you know you’re facing months of shitty weather and the assholes who love it.

Who is “they,” you wonder?

The ever-annoying Winter Humpers.

Because if they could, they would.

Honestly, can you believe some people actually crow about their love of inclement winter weather? Without being completely sarcastic? Nope, no sarcasm in sight — these folks just love the dandruff from Satan’s pubes.

If you are one of these loathsome creatures, I’m going to offer you a bit of free advice:

“Check your privilege” before announcing this in any public forum.

You’re probably wondering what the flippity fuck I’m on about. The phrase “check your privilege” is most often uttered by latte-sipping brunch enthusiasts directed at the poors they are trying to vote shame.

“Check your privilege” is usually patronizing, virtue-signaling bullshit.

But

there are some situations when this admonition is appropriate and called-for.

This is one of those situations.

At first, you may think, “well, that’s pretty fuck-witted. Enjoying the snow and cold weather doesn’t mean I’m privileged. Sorry, I fail to see any connection.”

You, yes YOU, are exactly the sort of person I’m trying to reach. Or shame. Or insult. Or put on that one-way train to Siberia.

And here’s why:

Winter storms don’t herald a great weekend skiing, or a relaxing day off, or sipping cocoa by a roaring fire for most people. It doesn’t mean a fun-filled “snow day” spent building a snowperson(because this is the type that would definitely say “snowperson”) with your L.L.Bean- clad family.

It means worrying about missing work and the hit to your paycheck you simply cannot afford.

It means grief from your boss who has no fucks to give if you die getting to your $10 an hour job.

It means hoping your already iffy roof doesn’t cave in from the weight of the snow your more fortunate brethren are frolicking in without a care. It means climbing on said roof hoping you don’t fall to your death while trying to remove it.

It means hours of shoveling and heart attacks for those not up to the task but left with little choice, especially in urban areas where homeowners who don’t clear their sidewalks are fined.

It means outrageous heating expenses even when you’re wearing three layers of sweaters to keep the thermostat down. It means choosing between keeping your family warm or fed because you can’t afford both.

It means being turned away from already overflowing shelters. It means many of our ever-growing homeless population freezing to death on our streets for lack of a home.

It means months of stress and anxiety, and dreading what unwelcome news the weather report will bring.

It means counting the days until spring and hoping that you, your car, and your home make it that far.

It does not mean sipping cocktails in the lodge after a super-fun day of snowboarding.

Not for most of us anyway.

When you wax orgasmic about a major winter storm hitting your area, particularly online where you can’t possibly know your audience, you are flaunting your self-centered douchebaggery for all to see.

Over the top? I think not. People less fortunate than you DIE during winter storms and cold snaps. Die as in LOSE THEIR LIVES while your posing as a snow-bunny for the nauseating joint Insta account you share with your Life Partner.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t have fun. If you’re lucky enough not to panic every time a storm is going to blow through, have a wet, cold, frozen-booger blast. But perhaps consider containing your excitement for your drive to the slopes with Chad and Miffy and Buffy and Pud. You know, with your fellow over-privileged pretentious prats.

Here’s an interesting question for comparative purposes. Riddle me this: would you stand in the middle of a searingly hot desert and proclaim:

“Fuck yeah! 120 degrees in the shade again tomorrow! I hope this weather never ends!”

The answer is no, no, you wouldn’t. Because everyone would think you’re a dick and you’d get your ass kicked. And deservedly so.

So shuddup about your bizarre snow fetish, k? Why would you flaunt being a walking freakshow that prefers hypothermia to a warm summer day anyway? It’s like being a Trump supporter: some may agree with you obviously, but the majority of humans will question your mental health.

Written by

is a political junkie and history buff randomly alternating between bouts of crankiness and amusement while bearing witness to the Apocalypse. Come along!

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