It’s no picnic living in Wisconsin. Dangerous wind chills during the winter, predatory mosquitoes and gawd-awful humidity during the summer – it seems like a dress rehearsal for eternal damnation. My latest epiphany is designed to make the most of the days it actually is nice in this wretched state.
It should come as no surprise to anyone who lives in the dairy state: Wisconsin has a grand total of eight nice days a year.
These are the days when it’s sunny, dry, and you’re neither sweating nor freezing to death. We Wisconsinites suffer through so much year-round misery that when these days occur, we become euphoric. We say asinine things like, “This place really isn’t so bad,” forgetting about the frostbite that claimed three toes last winter.
We desperately need to make the most of these precious days. Thus, my epiphany: Instead of having Memorial Day, Labor Day, and Aaron Rodgers Day all pre-determined holidays, let’s schedule these dates on the fly. Then, when we’re blessed with one of the wonderful days, we can drop everything and call it a day. Off.
Our crack meteorological teams could make all this possible. With their bitchin’ Doppler radars and unparalleled knowledge of what the hell a dew point is, our weather-people can make predictions with uncanny accuracy. So why not put that ability to good use?
When forecasters spot a beautiful day approaching, BLAM, they can announce, “Labor Day will be celebrated on Tuesday.”
No beautiful days squandered. No holidays spoiled by typical Wisconsin weather. And hopefully, no more toes lost to frostbite.
Eight Nice Days are Actually 32 Quarter Days
Once I announced my epiphany on Facebook, Wisconsinites liked my idea by the millions. I made a quick call to the State Capitol, and my epiphany soon became law. Eight days of bliss were declared, and officially not placed on the calendar.
As an avid reader of Alter the Course, you probably know that I’ve produced similar mind-blowing epiphanies in the past, and they’ve often resulted in rather disastrous conclusions. Well, the derailment of my Wisconsin weather epiphany proved to be the worst of them all, as it directly affected me, the person I care about most in this world.
Our crack meteorologists discovered that we actually don’t have one single continuous day of nice weather. Wisconsin weather sucks too much for even that to happen. Instead, we have short bursts of nice weather. Two hours of glorious, balmy sunshine, followed two hours later by life-threatening blizzard.
We found that we actually have 32 quarter-days of nice weather. Thus, the legislation was rewritten to say employers had to let people off for a quarter of the day, after which staff was to return to their cubicles and grind out the remaining three-quarters of their shift.
This arrangement proved to be a tad unwieldy for Wisconsinites. We instinctively consume gallons of beer whenever nice weather is upon us. As a result, after a quarter-day off, people were returning to work three sheets to the wind. Included in that drunken mix were our faithful legislators.
These lawmakers were so pissed that their binges had been interrupted that they rewrote the holiday legislation, reinstating the status quo. They also decreed that I be publicly stoned to death for opening my mouth.
At the public stoning, as rocks smote and bashed my brains and I breathed my last breath, I looked to the heavens for salvation. Instead, I was greeted with a raindrop right in the eyeball. How fitting: My last moments on earth, spent suffering another crappy day in Wisconsin.