I like the image of snow covering a landscape. Serene and mystical. Reminiscent of a simpler era characterized by log cabins and family and friends sharing stories around a toasty fireplace. As if nothing else in time or space matters; frozen in time. As if the white blanketing shrouds all the world’s problems; a veil to ease our worries. It falls from the heavens gracefully. Covering everything without prejudice.
My snow fetish is quickly disembodied by thoughts of shoveling, commuting and staying warm, but it nevertheless gives me short bursts of satisfaction. You ever stop to think how crazy it is that this shit just plummets from the sky like something out of a poorly made SyFy show. Its pretty dope to experience. And it got me thinking of whether or not global warming or some freak terrestrial terraforming could take away this simple happiness. What if years from now we are no longer dreaming about a white Christmas?
Imagine dust, grime and ungodly chunks of meteorite pouring down from the clouds. The particulates ranging in size. From miniscule to walrus sized projectiles. Your grandchildren are terrified. Running throughout the house as the roof is battered by the falling sludge. Your youngest granddaughter runs to your arms and asks whether or not her daddy remembered to bring his suit of armor to the grocery store. Why would he have? The forecast called for only a slight downfall of dirt, not a shitstorm of cement. Having already seen your neighbor’s head been severed by a gleaming chunk of frozen mud, you lie to your little princess. “Your da-da will be just fine.” You liar. Their father left hours ago to pick up the Christmas turkey. Unless he stopped by to pick up more of that cranberry juice you like (unlikely. cause you did a really shitty job raising him), then he is long dead. Well, looks like you’re those youngers’ legal guardian now. Better not fuck up like you did with your own son. You never made a dustman with him or sang the magical song ‘Rusty the Dustman’ to make him believe it’d come to life. There is still time to share that moment with your grandkids. Get them suited up in their weather resistant armor. Its time to get out their and get in the holiday spirit.
You lost one grandkid in the process, but you did it. Your dustman is complete. Its beautiful. Looks just like Ron Perlman- the prototype for dustman.
And that’s where I stop imagining about dystopian holiday weather. If your children are building Sons of Anarchy characters in your front lawn cause of climate change, then maybe its time to start caring for the environment. I’m dreaming of a green Christmas.