Go Home, November, You're Drunk

This was the temperature today in Eville. It's November 17, for frak's sake. Needless to say, this is not normal.

In fact it's so not normal, that even the trees around here don't know what the hell's going on. This poor, confused little tree behind the building where I work is actually budding. In November.

Welp, I've got news for everyone in my neighborhood-- if this weather makes my grass start growing again, that's too damned bad. The lawnmower's been put up for the winter. I ain't mowing the goddamned grass on Black Friday.

This aberrant weather is a source of joy for some Evansvillians. "Oooh," they'll coo, "This weather's beautiful! It's like we skipped right over Winter and into Spring! It's awesome!" Sure, it great when it's forty degrees one day and then eighty the next. But then out of the blue there's the running and the screaming and the massive property damage when the unseasonably warm temperatures generate violent storms. Do you want tornadoes? Because that's exactly how we get tornadoes.

When I was a kid, back in the Before Time, I used to have to wear my winter coat over my Halloween costume. By Thanksgiving I was knee deep in snow. But no, the government's right, climate change is a myth.