Every year, winter shows up and a large portion of the population seems as flabbergasted as a dog trying to figure out calculus, which is silly because dogs excel at algebra and little else.

Most of these stories will say it's likely due to the suddenness of the particular storm, but is it really sudden? Is weather that happens every year at the same time truly sudden? Even assuming the forecast didn't call for snow, which it probably did in most cases, isn't being surprised by snow in the winter like being surprised that a boner looks obvious in bicycle shorts? These things necessarily go together and always have.

This year, I happened to have the good fortune to be out shopping during the first serious snowfall in my neck of the woods and I literally had to go full GTA to avoid being destroyed by two separate yet equally baffled drivers who didn't realize that going twice the speed limit on a snow-covered road means your brakes aren't going to be all up to snuff. I was both fast and, to a degree, furious, as I managed to make my way into a lane usually reserved for oncoming traffic in an effort to not be smeared across the road by an SUV. Then, a short time later, I hopped a curb to avoid a rusty Corolla that seemed to be manned by a near-sighted chimp.

tpsdave/Pixabay

Would these incidents have happened in balmy, summer weather? Probably not. Does balmy, summer weather happen the week before Christmas? Not north of the 42nd parallel.

The problem is that probably at least one guy at the post office worked there last Christmas. And if that a*****e didn't mention to everyone else that things are going to get hectic in December, that dude should be fired. If you run a business selling fuckable pumpkins, you're going to stock up on supplies and extra staff when Pumpkin f*****g Day rolls around. That's just good business. And if it turns out you underestimated the crowds one year, you prepare even better for next year. Benjamin Franklin was the first Postmaster General in 1775, so the post office has existed for a hell of a long time. During that period, Christmas has occurred every single year on the exact same day. If you can't get your s**t together in 200 years, you need new management.

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The post office has just conditioned us to accept the slow service over the holidays and we let them off the hook because of that 15 billion number. That seems like a lot, how could we expect more? But we can expect more because this isn't a surprise. They hire 30,000 extra employees to help manage the holiday influx. Hire 40,000 next year, you jackasses. Because it's not just grandma's shortbread that shows up late, it's paychecks and bills and insurance forms and all sorts of important mail that everyone gets screwed out of because the post office hasn't mastered understanding a calendar in over two centuries.

Back in 2010, there was a heat wave in Russia so bad 1200 people drowned in the month of June. But wait, you say, that sentence makes as much sense as pissing in your own eye to sharpen your vision. Well, turns out Russians got the brilliant idea to combat the 98 degree heat by swimming. But not by not drinking. So when a massive swarm of hot, stanky Russians up to their tits in vodka go for a swim, a good number of them don't return to the surface. Again, despite the fact that summer is hot, no one seems to realize it's going to happen again this year.

Obviously, just going out and buying an air conditioner is not in the cards for everyone, these things don't grow on trees and often the cheapest ones are still about $100 or so. But the same thing seems to happen to fans every year. My fan broke in August and I went to a Walmart to get a new one. There, I was met with the single most cynical Walmart employee in the entire franchise, one who first answered my question regarding the presence of fans with a hearty guffaw before spinning a yarn about how I would probably not find another fan for sale at any store in the entire city, nor would I for weeks. All of the nearby towns were apparently suffering from a fanstinction event that I was quite foolish to not be aware of.

Hans/Pixabay

When all else fails, a trip to the local pool is a surefire way to cool down on a hot day, unless your town has people in it. If that's the case, the public pool is often less a fun place to cool down and more a terrifying damp torture device in which 1000 people are wedged like sardines and everyone pretends they're not soaking in a urine bouillabaisse. Hey, a Russian joke and then a pee joke. Where have I heard those recently?

The problem with holiday traffic isn't necessarily that it exists -- of course it exists. Until the government elects to construct several more lanes, or we get flying cars, or you get bit by a radioactive mole and tunnel your way to vacation bliss, the fact is that you're going to get stuck in traffic on busy traffic days. The issue is that it seems like no one knew it would happen. It's going to happen. Bring a White Snake cassette and some Twizzlers, we're in for the long haul.

9355/Pixabay

I made the foolish mistake of heading into Chicago once on a major holiday from way out in the terrible Illinois suburbs. I think we were actually just parked in the same spot for a half hour at one point because if they can't do massive freeway construction on the 4th of July, when the hell can they do it? Anyway, as we sat there and stewed in the sun, I watched a man in the next lane evolve from innocuous driver sharing the road with me to caged rage monster. He honked his horn as though he'd just discovered it existed while literally punching his steering wheel. Throughout his display, he either frequently yawned like a baboon or screamed his head off inside his own car. Had we stayed there any longer, I assume he would have started chewing the upholstery or his head would have literally popped like a balloon.

You officially can't get mad at holiday traffic. Physically, you can, I guess, but you have no right to and will garner no sympathy from anyone. Your anger is misplaced and, if we're being honest, totally silly bullshit. I'm talking full on silly. Remember when you were a kid and the teacher said you were silly for eating paste or trying to put your shoes on backwards or whatever goofball s**t you did for attention before you understood how to spell your own name? We're talking that sort of silly, but if it ended with the teacher calling you a d******d instead. Did your kindergarten teacher ever call you a d******d? Probably not, but imagine how silly you would have had to act to push them that far. That's screaming at busy traffic-level silly. d******d.

For more check out 6 Dumb Myths The Media Spreads Every Holiday Season and The 9 Most Statistically Terrifying Days On the Calendar.

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