By Seadiff Nass, Needling Meteorologist
The forecast isn’t looking good. No, my friend, it looks grim indeed.
I’ve been studying my meteorological charts and my radars, and the number of spiders on trees, fences, and bushes. That comfy non-waterproof gear you got on? Those jovial, overcrowded groups congregating on Fremont Brewing’s deck? The naked, sweater-less Corgis prancing around Green Lake?
I’m afraid to report all that is about to be replaced by insufferable eternal darkness, which I expect to last sometime well into tenebrous infinitude.
Oh, you’ll get a ray of hope sometime in March or November. But that’s just a flash in the pan, a clap of thunder in the Seattle, if you will. It’ll be something so irregular, that I’ll be shocked if it’s capable of shaking the shroud which, by that point, has descended upon your very soul.
Yes, settle in, Seattle, and hope you can afford a $130 lift ticket out of what is sure to be an indelible Cimmerian shade no amount of Vitamin D supplements, exercise, therapy, community, or revolutions of the Earth will ever, ever brighten again.
That’s it from me, folks, until I can find another way to make a predictable, annual weather pattern sound way more shocking than it actually is.
