meta shit

The snow is on the losing end of an argument with the tilting of the planet. It's sulking.

Take a good whiff. Earth and refuse fresh from the deep freeze. Go out there and see for yourself. Now walk on puddles. The thin, thin ice with nothing but air under it - you know what sound it makes under a rubber boot? It sounds like a thought bubble popping. (I hear that one a lot.) Smash it! Leave no glass puddle window unsmashed. How many springs do you have left? You don't know. How many while you're able bodied? How many while your loved ones live? How many with your dog? How many? Get out there, I mean it. Sure, it smells like dogshit. That's the point. There's something to smell. Dogshit = you're alive.