Spring Break
There's no exquisite sin greater than central air
By: Eamonn Rockwell
Issue date: 6/1/07 Section: Ed-Op
Originally published: 6/1/07 at 3:42 AM EST
Last update: 6/1/07 at 3:42 AM EST
Originally published: 6/1/07 at 3:42 AM EST
Last update: 6/1/07 at 3:42 AM EST
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Last weekend I decided to honor fallen veterans by temporarily abandoning my school and return to my native North Virginia to do laundry. My feeling was that if those soldiers were alive, they would want me to enjoy the freedoms they fought for in clean clothing. Other than being laughed at by my friends who had gotten out of their schools earlier and get to sit around and do nothing while I still have to work, it was an enjoyable weekend. Nevertheless, there was one expected factor that almost killed me and numerous unexpected factors that I'm almost positive were blatant assassination attempts, particularly the one where a bomb went off under my giant wooden desk as I was trying to sign important papers regarding the placement of non-Aryans.
This may come as a shock to many Triangle readers, but Virginia is a state known for being horrendously hot and humid in the summer. While this was probably the main factor for our Civil War loss, it is something we have to deal with from June to August. The humidity is approximately 130 to 170 percent, and with temperatures near 4000 degrees Celsius, life becomes unbelievably difficult. Productivity plummets while complaints about how hot it is rise a staggering four trillion percent. When Mint Julep supplies cannot keep up with demand, southern gentlemen everywhere wave their pistols in the air and angrily demand that someone fetch their finest seersucker suit so that they may go to court and parade around before the judge and jury, exclaiming that, while they may not be fancy big-city lawyers, they know that only the consumption of Mint Juleps on a gentleman's front porch while he observes his land and those who work it will help the south rise again. Indeed, these are but a few of the reasons why the AAA insists that travelers head north for the summer, and, if they must go south to see their creepy ultra-religious relatives that nobody likes to talk to, they should at least head for a beach where the sea breeze can help keep them cool and provide a point-of-escape should they be criticized for raising their children as heathens in the eyes of our lord.
This may come as a shock to many Triangle readers, but Virginia is a state known for being horrendously hot and humid in the summer. While this was probably the main factor for our Civil War loss, it is something we have to deal with from June to August. The humidity is approximately 130 to 170 percent, and with temperatures near 4000 degrees Celsius, life becomes unbelievably difficult. Productivity plummets while complaints about how hot it is rise a staggering four trillion percent. When Mint Julep supplies cannot keep up with demand, southern gentlemen everywhere wave their pistols in the air and angrily demand that someone fetch their finest seersucker suit so that they may go to court and parade around before the judge and jury, exclaiming that, while they may not be fancy big-city lawyers, they know that only the consumption of Mint Juleps on a gentleman's front porch while he observes his land and those who work it will help the south rise again. Indeed, these are but a few of the reasons why the AAA insists that travelers head north for the summer, and, if they must go south to see their creepy ultra-religious relatives that nobody likes to talk to, they should at least head for a beach where the sea breeze can help keep them cool and provide a point-of-escape should they be criticized for raising their children as heathens in the eyes of our lord.
