Saturday, June 28, 2008

Oh, poor children!

I'm here in Alentejo (Portugal - that's in Europe). How is the weather in here, you ask? It's warm.

I'm kidding, it's hot! I swear the air looks like having tons of red. My arse was almost burned in the car seats. A flame would feel hot in here. You got to knot a cube of ice to your forehead to remain minimally fresh.

It seems that some guys in Washington DC (someone told me once what DC meant, but I forgot. I'm just not going there in case it means Dick Cancer) said that the North Pole will be iceless at the end of this summer. There is very little ice there already, thanks to the supposedly "intelligent" and "rational" human kind (which insists of doing great favours like this to its own planet constantly), and even that is probably gone by October.

And for this I'm not worrying about the extinctions of polar bears or seals (two very important animals who produce very very cute cubs) or any other poor, innocent, sinless, beautiful being who happened by chance to live in huge place we just melted, causing thousands of deaths only by disrespect and selfishness - no, I'm worried about Santa Clause.

Every one knows that ol' Father Christmas lives up there in the icy hills of North Pole, with his elves and reindeers, making the presents for the children who behaved good, and making huge bonfires (because when the fire is put down, the coal is to be given to the naughty children). Except now there is now icy hills. There's no hills at all. So where is every child's favourite fictional character supposed to go with his pigmees and flying stags?

If Santa Clause is reading this (which I think he should, since this is the best way to know if I'm good or naughty - the first to guess which one I am gets a cookie!), I want to leave some suggestions about destinies when your house have, you know, melted.

* My neighbours house. - There isn't much room for presents for nearly every kid in the world (my suggestion is, assume that every kid who can't speak, or has made pee-pee or poo-poo in the pants, or doesn't like the green stuff, is naughty. Your bag will get a hell lot lighter!). But it's a great location (it's nearly in the middle of the map, we're right above Africa), and you can do all the bonfires you want - the police doesn't care! (that is, if you pay them. But I guess if you can afford to make millions of presents you can afford a little bribe).

* The Saara desert. - This is just like the North Pole. It's isolated, it's quiet, you won't get unexpected visits (basically everyone passing by will think they're seeing a mirage). It's kind of in the middle of the map (in North Pole you could just go to any point of the glob, is just going South. But the advantage is that in Saara a compass could actually work). There may be problem on getting used to the weather, passing from ice to sand (believe me, I know how you'll feel). It may be a little hot for your traditional Coca Cola-sponsored red robes and hat, so you better take another outfit, like red and white shorts. The belt, the boots and the beard may also get too hot, so loose them. And don't get surprised to see your elves melting too. Oh, and get rid of the reindeers and buy a pack of flying camels (ones with hydrogen in their humps, I guess). The mirages are also frequent there, so don't get surprised to start seeing a lot of Mrs. Clauses in here.

* Las Vegas. - A lot of Mrs. Clauses around here too!

* USA in general. - Yeah, let those Christian bastards have their precious Xmas. "Ooh ooh, 'Xmas', I can't write the real word, or I'd be lame. Ooh Ooh, god bless America. Uncle Sam and all". Bastards. Wait until we send a missile there.


There's another question; if North pole is gonna melt, we get only one pole. We can't keep calling that one "South Pole". We used to call it that to tell the two poles apart. Now I guess it'll just be "the Pole".

What a lame name.

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