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The cold war

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The cold war

Miranda Perkins and Jack Wanninger

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Winter: it’s the most wonderful time of the year

You wake up on a Thursday morning, a gentle white light illuminating your bedroom. Could this be? you ask yourself. Of course it is. Jack Frost has blessed our town once again. You spend the day sledding with your adorable five-year-old neighbor, sipping hot cocoa, and baking cookies for your holiday-non-specific gift-bringer.

Winter is by far the most beautiful season. Snow gives the world a sparkle, a glow, a soft aura complemented by frosty air nipping at your eyelashes. Nothing beats this pure, immaculate feeling of being inside a York Peppermint Patty commercial.

You combat your frosted fingertips with wrapping your hands around a massive mug of your favorite hot drink. You clothe your freezing toes in fuzzy and stylish socks before propping your feet up in front of a warm fire. You interrupt the chilly silence of a snowy night with the bright sounds of caroling. There is this marvelous beauty in contrast that can only be seen during this time of the year.

Not to mention the holidays. There’s Christmas, and Hanukkah of course, not to mention Yuletide and New Years and the Winter Solstice. And Saturnalia! There is reason to celebrate in nearly every religion across the globe.

I personally love to enjoy my store-bought advent calendars with cream-filled chocolates shaped like crescent moons or kittens or wheelbarrows. Yes, I do miss enjoying my Dairy Queen in the cold, but I enjoy it more in the summer anyways — see again, beauty in contrast.

I feel bad for people who don’t swell with joy when winter rolls around. They just Debbie-Down on their own reality. Pessimism owns their lives. Angry and sad people cry until their tears freeze on their rosy cheeks.

Living among those who will pout and whine about snow melting in their boots and slush splashing up on their car tires make this world more bitter than the cold that is handed to us. We have to live with it regardless, and complaining is not going to make it go away. Choose to live in the sweetness hidden inside the frozen Kinder Surprise Egg that is our Indiana winter.


Talking about weather is banal; winter is even more banal

There are only two types of people who like winter: liars and psychopaths. Both have hearts as cold as their favorite season.

Not only is winter the worst season, it’s so bad that I’m glad that global warming is melting the ice caps so we don’t need to suffer another freezing cold December ever again. Sorry, polar bears. Take one for the team.

If you have to justify your love for winter by how much you love eating snow, every other season surpasses winter in the stuff-you-can-eat-off-the-ground category. Fall has apples, and the spring and summer have fresh vegetables out of your mom’s garden. Winter has frozen water. Nice.

If the gruelling and biting frost and the “marvellous beauty of contrast” of the winter season somehow makes you appreciate summer more, not only are you a doomed optimist, but you’re admitting that winter isn’t the best season. I don’t starve myself for a week just so I enjoy food more.

Besides, all of the “fun” winter activities aren’t even worth the time. Admit it: hot chocolate is overrated, you haven’t bothered sledding since you were eight years old, and Christmas cookies aren’t even the best. Sugar cookies? Really? We’re not in the Civil War. The country isn’t rationing. We can afford to make good cookies.

People always say they love winter because it’s a holiday bonanza. Christmas, New Years, Kwanzaa…whatever. Think about this: why are all the fun holidays in winter? Because the season is compensating for something. It’s compensating for how terrible it is.

Have you ever tried driving a car in winter? News flash: it sucks. The morning commute to school shouldn’t become a game of figure skating in my gas-guzzling death box. If I wanted State Road 32 to be an ice skating rink, I’d petition the city council.

Welcome to the real world. It isn’t all igloos and icicles. Winter is bad, and everyone who likes winter is probably also bad. Transitive property, or something.  It’s not that I have a personal vendetta against anyone. I’m just stating the facts. Sometimes the facts can be ugly, but nothing is as ugly as winter.

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The cold war