Dearest readers,

It grieves me to say that I can no longer keep this going. It has come to my attention that The Crimson Weatherboard’s Weekly Weather Reviews are costing The Crimson more per letter than any other publication in the history of weather-related literature. It is simply not feasible for us to keep publishing my musings on the weather without further funding which, for legal reasons, cannot be in U.S. dollars. In fact, the only currency the Business board will accept at this time are Facebook likes and shares, and this, dear reader, is where you come in. I hereby announce the beginning of Operation Weather Truth Forever, or for short, Operation WTF. Your mission: Like the Weekly Weather Reviews of previous last week’s weathers to increase the value of the shares, then tell your friends to do the same until we break even (my accountants have estimated this to be in the range of 5k likes per review). If you don’t have friends, feel free to make a new Facebook account just to like us more. It’s okay, we know you’re doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.

Yours in need,

Mr. Weatherman, Esq.

This week, in what is potentially the last installment of this week’s last week’s weather, we talk about the weather from last week potentially one last time:

Mother visited last week, telling me I looked fat. I told her the same, but at least my fat will keep me insulated against the Cantabrigian frost while she swelters in the Florida sun. Overall, it was a good visit. Her comments reminded me of two things: One, I need to keep shoveling HUDS tater tots into my stomach to help build up a reservoir of fatty energies to survive my winter igloo home; and two, I need to find that tree I buried last year so I can fuel my bonfire this Halloween.

The weathervane atop the Crimson pointed south earlier this past week, signaling that everything is turning to shit now that Canada is blowing on us. “It’s a bit nippy out,” the passersby announce, lamenting with what might be the world’s most ill-thought-out cold-related word. Seriously, who the hell decided it was OK to use the word “nippy” to describe anything other than a mammalian teat? I bet it was those damn editors of college publications. “Let’s ruin the weather for everyone,” they whisper to each other, gesticulating to their nipples and guffawing with vitriol. Maybe I’m just angry because “nippy” weather is the only nip I get to experience these days. I need to find a girl, dammit. I should really consider asking one of those pretty editors out on a date—maybe then they would buy me dinner before bending me over the table and having their way with my column and me. Then again, they might actually ask me to pay for dinner, but I don’t think Chipotle takes Facebook likes for credit.


Aggregate Score: integral_0^(2 pi) (sin^2(x))/(2 pi) dx / 10

Post Script: Introducing “Today in Yesterday’s Weather” and sometimes even “Now in Moments Ago’s Weather”—find all your Crimson Weatherboard needs on Twitter! Follow @CrimsonWeather #thunder #lightning #dogs