An Open Letter to Mother Nature

Dear Bitch,

Are you for real?

We know it was wrong of us to stand idly by and let Al Gore show all of those explicit photographs of what you’re going to look like 30 years from now. But seriously — ease off. Enough with the apocalyptic downfalls of snow mixed with ice pellets mixed with freezing rain mixed with snow pellets mixed with the frozen tears of New Brunswickers who just can’t lift the shovel even one more goddamn time. I’m not saying I’m totally sick of winter, but see that animal’s head mounted above my fireplace? Say hello to Punxsutawney Phil, star of Groundhog Day. That shadow-seeing bastard had it coming.

In New Brunswick, we’re closing in on the all-time record snowfall of 999.1 cm (393 inches) — a mark that has stood for almost four decades. Spring seems as far off as Jessica Simpson’s Academy Award. How bad is it in the provincial capital? I have to wear an avalanche beacon when I go out to get the paper.

Word is you’ve been kinder to other parts of Canada. Calgary was pushing 12 degrees this week. The mercury in Whitehorse hit the positive numbers, and Winnipeg reportedly made it a record six straight days without a single mosquito joke. But you continue to treat New Brunswick and all parts east as your own personal snow globe.

What’s that you say? If we don’t like it here we should go somewhere warmer? Oh you’d love that, wouldn’t you, you sadistic bitch? You’d love us to go to the airport so you can hurl another 50 cm of glistening white misery at us. We’ll end up like those people on the news who spent half their March break in line at the departure-lounge in the Toronto airport.

I always pictured you as a nice lady, sauntering through idyllic forests, bluebirds chirping merrily as they fluttered around your head.

But it turns out you’re one mean bitch. So much snow has fallen this winter that hell itself has frozen over.

One last thing: because of the snow and the cold, I haven’t been able to take down the Christmas lights yet. But with you in mind I did manage to rearrange them to spell, “Up Yours.”

Sincerely,

The Mad Ape

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