D3 and the Demented Drizzles.

This should be a Seattle folk-rock-pop Indie music-group, but alas, it is not. It is the state of deficiency amongst most of the people in not so sunny western Washington. Nutritionalists with big brains and enlarged thyroids have studied the winter doldrums of Washingtonians and concluded that most, if not all of them, need to supplement their D3 intake during the winter months. Otherwise, fairly normal people can become zombies. I have written of zombies before, so in order not to be redundant, allow me to elaborate.

Go into any Barnes & Noble or Powell's (in Portland), cigar shops, two-bit used book shops, and the second rate libraries of ordinary people, and you will likely find at least two to three zombie related novels. There are writers in small towns like Idaho Falls, or Peoria, or Muncie, or most of Orange County, who are cranking out volume after volume of this nonsense.

I have read that art imitates life. This means that if the world is slipping into moral turpitude you can read about it in cheap novels. I call them cheap because practically any lousy writer with tendencies to like necrophilia, or who are seriously morose and D3 deficient, can knock out these uninspiring wastes of electronic bits and reams of paper. We need novels of hope not ones which glorify the undead.

I pray that there is a weather and moral change afoot that will make the Northwest the New California, and America the beacon of hope it once was. It is about time the Northwestern folks had tans, and it is about time Americans cast off this darkness that threatens to engulf the entire world. Even ten minutes per day of sunlight would do the trick. We are not ice fishing caliber people, we are just people in need of love. Evil is like lichen in most ways. Stand too long in its company and it will take root in us.  Resist it and it will flee from you.

There was an evil wind today, that whipped the clouds and the expressions of human beings into a dull gray depression. The clouds hung their weary faces and wept a fine mist that slid under the upturned collars of darkly clad citizens in downtown Seattle and the outlying communities. The curved face of the Space Needle deflected the blasts of wind, and the needle prodded the low clouds until a steady rain fell. I was walking in it today, and the grayness was tangible. The wind grabbed hold of the lip of my cap and threatened to send it tumbling in the air onto the black oil stained street. But failing in that effort, it rushed up my pants legs and took hold of my leather coat with thin icy fingers until I held fast to the collar of my coat with one gloved hand. I searched the pale gray sky for signs of light but the light was on hiatus.

In the pocket of my leather jacket was  a Calvin Klein cologne card, heavily scented with five different colognes from my trip to Macy's and Nordstrom's yesterday. There is no greater affirmation of womanhood than to observe the goings on in the holy shrines of femininity within these stores. I took one step in their sacred rectangles and women gave me the evil eye and I stepped back. It was a sacred place created for women, and I had trespassed. Their looks drove me to the small bastions of manhood, where manly colognes stood in their artsy glass containers. I could not find the one I had used two years ago, whose name is "Gravity." This is because the world of fashion stops for no one and trendy scents that don't perform go away rather quickly. But I came away with three papers scented with colognes I liked. As I walked the uneven and broken sidewalk today I held one of the cards to my nose to remind myself of better days ahead. Manly days in perhaps one of the most difficult times in my lifetime.

The better days ahead will smell like the colognes because I will wear it. The sun will return, the days will get longer, the lovers will kiss on street corners, the homeless will smile with imperfect teeth at the change. Brace yourself for the cold winds of change ahead; it is a roll of the dice whether we will see 2013. Prepare yourself for the gray pallor that is sure to fall upon America and the world. Buy lots of D3 and multivitamins. Build a bomb shelter. Stock up on foods that will last. Buy a water purifier.

Pray.