by Alexander Jacobson

When you’re stuck in a blizzard, it can be hard to grasp the big picture of how the global climate change is affecting weather trends in your region and in your city. Yeah. Well, Philly only got 6 inches of snow this week, and I don’t really grasp that picture anyway, but here’s the first three problems that happened to come to mind as I, a native of Los Angeles, found myself asking “is that a snow-globe, or my front porch?”

Disease spreads. Much like the virus in Resident Evil, the abominable snowflakes of Philadelphia will infect anyone who comes into contact with them with a horrible disease. While the city’s air-quality might lead you to believe this is cancer, it is in fact much, much worse. The first symptom is the blatantly scrambled sequence in which rescue efforts occur. Those charged with shoveling the snow are the first to become infected, and immediately begin throwing salt down before shoveling an ounce of snow from the sidewalk. Although the resulting ice sheet is shiny and therefore probably worth something at pawn shop, I can’t find a pair of shoes in a hue complementary to the color of shiny, slippery death.
Snow brings more sexual intercourse. This isn’t a problem as much as it is a fantastically erotic opportunity. While it is tempting to argue that snow balls are an aphrodisiac the same way that any snow-shaped testicle would be, I would instead postulate that nature functions more subtly. In no other context has nature provided man with a tool that can simultaneously slam attractive members of the opposite sex in the face with slushy ice while providing said “slammer” with a reason to suggest rubbing against each other to keep “warm.” It’s brilliant and we all owe mother nature a thank you, if not because many of us were conceived between the months of November and February, then because it provides tons of material for a montage in any of this winter’s upcoming romantic comedies.
Snow challenges the ego of a declining post-industrial metropolis. Philadelphia used to be the big city on the Eastern Seaboard, and has since ascended to the source of cheese steaks and cream cheese. The rest of the country refuses to recognize this as ascension, however, and instead refers to it as “post-industrial economic decline.” It is for this reason that no one but a Philadelphian can root (against) the Eagles and that we Philadelphians take offense to the charge that “Philly can’t handle snow.” Our snow ploughs can handle any amount of snow the sky can dump, and any fire-hydrant that happens to get in their way. And they can fix the fire-hydrant afterwards. No seriously, fuck the Mets.

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