I hate it when people skip the R in February. The word is FEBRUARY. Not Febyouary. It’s a really cold and nasty month, except for Valentine’s Day. So maybe it’s brain freeze. Or maybe it’s something more serious and sinister. Think about this. Suppose you were God, and you wanted to make a really nasty, cold month…which if you were God, you’d have a perfect right to do. Maybe you wanted people to know, and appreciate, that just as you could make a stinking hot month like August, you could make a crappy cold month too if you felt like it. In your mercy, you’d make it shorter than the other months, but it would be really nasty cold. So you made the month, and gave it the name February… because, FeBRUary has that nice kind of cold BRRR sound in there. Now suppose your clueless people keep leaving out the BRRR. They keep calling it Febyouary. If you were God, wouldn’t you kind of tighten down the cold screws a little, hoping people would get the point ? Of course you would.
I was born in February, and I blame the cold weather for my introduction to what has become, “a lifetime of emotional rejection.” Can you imagine how hard it is for a new born infant to nurse through a wool sweater ? Wool is everywhere in February. In July and August, women wear nice cotton blouses and short skirts. In February, women wear wool. They look like walking piles of wool. It’s hard to tell a woman from a small herd of sheep…which may be the cause of a lot of nasty jokes about shepherds.
In especially sexy parts of Brooklyn, you can’t get satellite reception because of the electrical interference from all the static electricity sparks from skin rubbing against all those wool sweaters. I am a Louie-Louie Generation guy, born in Brooklyn…in February…so I know about these things. I remember Sister Mary Knucklebuster telling the guys in the fifth grade, that those sparks were little tiny lightning strikes, sent by God to make us keep our fingers to ourselves. I don’t know what she told the girls. But whatever it was, it seemed to be highly effective for all but a very few, very popular young ladies.
I was born in February, and I think about my third birthday I hit puberty. In my neighborhood, puberty was when guys got horny, and girls got religion. Thanks for that God. I think that’s pretty COLD, GOD. Whoops. Of course it’s cold. It’s February. And it keeps getting colder, because God keeps tightening the cold screws so we get the point. It’s supposed to be just as cold as August is hot. He wants you people to know he can do that if he wants to. Will you people please get with the program. FeBRRRuary…as in BRRRR…damn it’s cold. Not FebYOUary…as in, “let’s see what happens if we mess with God’s plan.”
Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.
1- What can’t you do if you hold your nose ?
2- Why should we turn off all electo-magnets in 2020 ?
3- What’s with wearing yellow underwear ?
Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.
You know how cold it is in February in Brooklyn? It’s so cold, the hitchhikers just hold up pictures of their thumbs…the eye doctors give away a free ice scraper with every new pair of eyeglasses…you can chip a tooth on your cup of coffee…you can freeze an egg on the sidewalk…a guy says “hello” and you can see the steam from his breath…when he recognizes the fact that the walking pile of wool he’s talking to is a woman…you can see the steam coming out of his ears. February is not cool. It’s cold. It is not kool to be that cold.
I always liked girls who wore glasses…like my Lady Wonder Wench…and one February evening…I very carefully said “hhhello…hhhhhoney,” because I figured that would steam up her glasses so she couldn’t see where I was putting my hands. But it didn’t work. When my fingertips hit, she shot up right out of the neck hole on that pile of wool she was wearing. You should have seen the sparks that made…especially when she came back down without the wool.
Maybe it’s just that I was born in February, but it really grates on my one remaining nerve to hear the word February without the brrrr. What’s a Febyouary? The BRRR is important. How would you like to go see a Boadway play ? If you’re a woman by the name of Mary, how would you like to become the month of May ? If you come to a red light in your car, are you going to step on the bake? Maybe it doesn’t bother you, but when somebody says Febyouary…I want to strangle that person with my cold fingertips.
Now… you’ve lived. You’ve had a loved one come in to your nice, warm house out of the snow and wind and ice to greet you, while you were wearing only your bathrobe. So you know there is little to equal the shock and pain of cold fingertips. On the other hand…you’ve probably heard the line about, “cold fingers, warm heart.” How’s that for a segue so I can put a cut from the Night Connections 3 personal audio cd called…”Bad Hands” in the current podcast.
I don’t know if the woman in that story really had the courage to do it that night…say goodbye, I mean. I hope she did. She will eventually. And the longer she puts it off, the longer she’s going to hurt…the longer the lonely will turn her cold…and brittle. And when she does tell him, he’ll probably not understand what hit him. He’s really a nice enough guy. Good job. Even kind of good looking I suppose. He just has no idea that she needs to feel somebody’s warm hands around her heart.
“Bad Hands” is from the Night Connections 3 personal audio cd. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, just download it from the Night Connections 3 icon on the home page.
You and I…us…we…are a very small huddle of humans. There aren’t very many of us. But we can make a difference. We can stop bringing down the wrath of God, by ignoring the BRRRR He put in February. If He wants us to know he can make a month just as nasty as August, but in the other direction…don’t fight it. Don’t get Him even more ticked off, or we’ll land up dodging polar bears in mid-town traffic. Admit it. It’s cold. Repeat after me. FebBRRRRuary. And tell your friends to do the same. Please. It’ll make a big difference. It might even make February cool again…instead of so damn cold. And it could…possibly… even help ease some of the pain of rejection that I have felt, ever since mom wore that thick, wool sweater, while I was trying to nurse, all those years ago.