Dear Nice Weather,
I hate you. You come but once, maybe twice a year, stay for a few weeks then leave. Why do you feel the need to tempt us? Is there some kind of masochistic side of you that enjoys tormenting us?
We are but simple people who have accepted the fact that we live in a steamy cesspool of a city, yet you feel obliged to come and show us how the rich people are living, but not long enough for us to enjoy it, just long enough for the seeds of discontent to be sown.
Soon, it will be winter. While many people feel relieved that cold weather is imminent, that's just the heat talking. Once it starts we curse it almost louder than we curse the heat. It's amazing how a city so famous for its unbearable heat can be so cold that you want to kill people -- but, of course, nice weather, you already know this.
Signed,
F U
Johnny Cash. Dead. John Ritter. Dead. Bad day for people named John trying to revive dead careers. PSA: If your first name is John and you used to be a celebrity, don't try a comeback. You could die today. Even if you try sometime in the future.
