Hello chilly willies! I think this is the longest we have gone without poker. But Christmas day was on a Wednesday, and thus preempted poker, and then New Year’s Day was on a Wednesday, and thus pre-empted poker, so there you have it. And since we are on the topic of stating obvious things, how about how cold is it, huh? The cold weather has been dominating the headlines of my favorite gossip rag, CNN, which ran the top story, “Would you wear sweaterpants?” yesterday. Investigative journalism at its finest.
It’s so cold.
How cold is it?
It’s so cold that the icy glare Judge Moore gives Goodman every time he says “may it please the court” feels warm by comparison.
It’s so cold that my pen turned into an inksicle.
It’s so cold that Elizabeth Warren was seen huddling with Ann Coulter for warmth.
It’s so cold that a snowball’s chance in hell is a bet I would take.
It’s so cold that my dog won’t go outside. He just stands in the doorway and pees over the welcome mat.
It’s so cold that Goodman put a space heater in the hot tub. Really. Don’t go in there. It did not work like he intended.
But fear not poker hopefuls! I live in the house of a thousand blankets. I’m not sure how or why I have so many blankets, but I have enough that every poker player can wrap themselves in a blanket and sit on a radiator as we drink hot toddys and deal those cards in perfect comfort. So, if you are brave enough to leave your house at 8pm tonight, come down to [——-], bring something warm to share with your fellow clerksicles. And RSVP so I know whether we have quorum and you won’t get left in the cold.