JONAS THE WIMPY ONE

Oh, for crimeney's sake.  Cut it out.  Just cut that shit out right now.  Seriously.

I comment about the weather a lot, but, to be fair, New England has to be the American capital of screwed up weather.  It's practically a requirement during the spring and the fall to run the heat in the morning and the air conditioner in the afternoon, and, if one does not do this regularly, one may very well lose his or her native New England status.

Or, so I thought.

The major storm that may or may not hit us on the weekend is currently creeping over the southeast, getting ready to take a huge winter dump on places like the Carolinas, the Virginias, and DC.  This is not really startling news since these storms do happen every so often during the season.  What is kind of weird is the new trend about naming these storms.

All of a sudden, it's not a storm anymore.  What used to be a good old-fashioned Nor'easter now has some wimpy-ass name: Jonas.  Look, I am deeply sorry (on many, many levels) if your first name is Jonas, but a snowstorm needs a much better name, a manlier name, a name with some teeth in it: Brutus, Iago, Cutter, Vinny... 

Jonas?  Who the freak is afraid of Jonas?  Jonas means "gift from God."  Seriously?  This storm is just one of Mother Nature's bitch-slaps.  Call it Cruella or Bitchina or Gonadia or something interesting.  Jonas (insert exasperated sigh of disgust).  For a major winter storm.  I can hear the people now: "Let's go get skim milk and scones and poppy-seed bread and brie!  Jonas is coming over tonight!"  

I do not know who started naming these winter storms, but stop.  Just stop.  If you work at the National Weather Service, quit now.  You're too big a wussy to challenge Mother Nature.  Go home.  Shutter your windows.  Put on your baby pants.  Cry in the corner.  Get a job cleaning up dog poop because that's all the stress you can handle.

Bring it on, baby.  Bring on winter.  It's long, long overdue.  A dusting of snow and some bitter cold winds is NOT winter, and wasting it all on ill-prepared south Atlantic areas is not remotely funny.  I have a new shovel, new scrapers, and new snowshoes.  Get with the program already. 

Damn Jonas.  With a limp name like that, it's small wonder he's afraid of New England.  Good luck, my Mid-Atlantic friends.  If you really love your New England friends, you'll tell Jonas to pack up his white shit and move north.