Friday, December 29, 2017

Cold in the South...small whine...

I hate the cold.  Always have.  First introduction?  Fucking boot camp on that little bullshit field op and since I went to the land of men, not sandfleas we were up on the side of a big ass hill, a storm front bringing freezing temperatures and high winds rolled in....suffice it to say it was the first of many unpleasant meetings with Mr. Jack Frost.

Why do I call him Mr. Jack Frost and not simply Jack Frost?

Because when something can kick your ass that hard without you being able to do a thing about it then you refer to that something with respect.

Oh and I know you New York bubbas and Canadian Lumberjack bastards are gonna chime in but we're talking about cold in the deep south of the United fucking States of a Gawd Damn America.

This cold is wet.

It gets into your bones.

It can crawl thru your layers and tag you no matter how warmly you think you've dressed.

The answer?

There is only one.

You stay inside and wait for the misery to pass.  Then you pray for normal weather.  Ya know.  98 degrees with 100 percent humidity!  That's more like it.

Cold.  Cold will test your manhood.  The jungle?  Yeah, everything crawls at night, you swear bushes are moving, glowing eyes are beside you--above you--behind you...and no one is wearing NVGs... and the insects are terrible.  Even that's tolerable.  The desert?  120 during the day with zero humidity?  Yawn.  Pass the water, find some shade and life goes on.

But cold?  Cold changes the course of nations.

No comments :

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.