The Crimson Weatherboard’s Weekly Weather Review

I no longer know what to believe in. One day, glorious winter is upon us, sheathing us in a cold white burrito wrap and masking the falseness that lies beneath in the austere perfection of thinglessness. Rarely has my heart been as thrilled as when I saw the world reduced to this.
By Noah B. Pisner and Andrew A. White

A note to our dearest readers:

Welcome back, and a merry weather to you! We hope you enjoyed reading last week's segment as much as we enjoyed writing it and our editors enjoyed pretending to edit it. If you haven't already read about last last week's weather, please do so now, as youmay find our description of this week's last week's weather confusing without any knowledge of what last last week's weather was like before this last week.



This week in last week’s weather, we talk about the weather from last week:The rain packed up and left this week, just like my father when I was eight. We had highs in the temperature, with an unusually mediocre joule count on Wednesday. Bob Ross couldn’t have painted a more perfect day. No literally, he couldn’t; he’s dead. I hope my father is too. The umbrellas have started their long hibernation. It’ll be days before they emerge again. Eager freshmen took to the yard, chasing after listlessly drifting frisbees, innocently oblivious to the impending Cantabrigian winter. Someone mentioned that Saturday was the best weather they had experienced in years. I didn’t notice; I was drunk.Your father never wanted you, says the sun, gleaming with gleam.

Aggregate score: 7.9 ½ out of 10.

Thanks for the overwhelming responses about comping! If you're still interested in comping the weatherboard, please email, or come to our first meeting: Saturday, Sep. 22, 0300 hours (military time) on the roof of the MAC. Don't ask us how we get up there, we'll be blackout.

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