The First Snow Edition

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Pretty Wild
Presenting: EDITIONALS
Pretty Wild “Editionals” will be a newsletter of fresh content delivered direct to your mailbox, and at  Each Editional will carry a motif, yet will offer mixed nuts on the theme.  We will try to instill a mindset, spark a conversation, and share our Pretty Wild opinions. Laugh, cry, and think with me.

This is volume #1…

Winter is here and I’ve turned cold blooded.  Icy as the tracks, brutal as the 7-day.  It’s November 27th; we shouldn’t be surprised that we’ve had our first snow.  Yet, I feel myself reacting as if this were my first first.  I see others doing the same.
People are tendancied to mimic what’s around them, not trend-set and champion like the Mavericks we strive to be.  It’s survivalism at its truest, to ebb with the changing flows of the world.  In today’s Editional, when winterizing, that means adding layers and buffering.  As every creature knows, when temps drop the going gets tough.
We, like planet Home, are seasonal.
But, it can’t all be bad and cold and bleak and stormy.  That’s where our refusals must buck the harsh realities.  When the world throws snowballs, we build fires.  Life’s too short to hibernate like the bears.  Winter is about carrying your own warmth, and finding the right people to share it with.
That The Sun Sets by 5pm
it’s Pretty Wild that…

“Everyone appreciates the long, light evenings. Everyone laments their shortage as Autumn approaches; and everyone has given utterance to regret that the clear, bright light of an early morning during Spring and Summer months is so seldom seen or used.”

And on the day that you’re reading this, 4:29pm.  It’s so fucking sour.

We owe our thanks to Benjamin Franklin who, through the future-sight of his bifocals, sought to solve an economical problem with the adjustment of the clocks.  The notion was this: there are only X amount of daylight hours per day, and that X varies by the season.  People are most efficient when conducting themselves in sunshine, thus, the variance in effort (and happiness) must be reflected in our time keeping, en grosse.  This is in effort to maximize ourselves.

In 1918, the United States opted-in, moving an hour of daylight from the afternoon into the morning (and oppositely come the Spring).  Under Franklins premise, this would heed us from “wasting daylight.” The bitterness of a winter night is a lost cause, but wool socks and knickers can salvage some AM productivity.  The affect was calculated, and not implemented without reason.  The work always has to be done…Day Light Savings was a nudge to help us complete our To-Do’s.

Apply action!  Night owls are remised, for they can’t appreciate the early thaw a lark can cash in on with NYC-DST.  Sure, it’s pitch fucking black before we can even think about embarking on the commute home, but the change-in-clock makes for a pretty nice cup of joe pre-8am.

Wake up!

That I’ve Already Gained 7 Pounds
it’s Pretty Wild that…

Seasonal weight gain is a line item concern for so many, but it comes with a pretty great excuse.  Our layers will hide our gut and compensate for our glut, but there’s much more to it than that.

The human body, even through some 350,000 years of adaptability, is still extremely susceptible to external change.  Trust your body and my voice…it’s a good thing.   The winter is harder, and demands more from you, which is why your summer regiment won’t translate to the winter months.  Your fighting your DNA to stay sexy…you’re supposed to be a big fat insulated fuck!

The word here is natural, the very same word that is so far outside modern mans lexicon that we get butt implants and apply Sepia filters to pictures of our Thanksgiving turkeys.  Sometimes, we live on Mars in terms of our expectations of self and surrounding.

Girzzly Bears shoot for a 3lb gain per day before taking the 3-month snooze, via roughly 20,000 calories a day from salmon skin and walnuts.  Come December, fat bottom girls make the rocking world go round.

It’s #gainz.  We’re all gonna get fat, because we’re all supposed to get fat.

That It’s Cuffing Season, and That This Even Exists
it’s Pretty Wild that…

If you’re reading this, I’d make a safe bet that you’re the child of two Baby Booming parents.  If not, props to me for expanding my demo.

Representing the largest spike in US fertility per capita, people born between 1946-1964 are unabashed by the fact that they exist because of the 6 year dry spell that was World War 2.  Men left to fight, women manned the home front, and we discovered the world’s most effective cock block of all time, the Atlantic Ocean.  Then V-Day, then Hiroshima, and then the boys came home for that SWEET, SWEET RELIEF.  76 Million babies boomed.  76 million (at least) grandparents fucking.  This was the first cuffing season and it lasted 20 years.

My grand father was a proud WW2 vet who fought and freed enslaved Jews from Nazi camps and came back just to kiss my grandma and tell her it was all for her.  The relationship they shared after his safe return from war was built off of the understanding that one day, they may once again be without each other.  They loved for love, and nothing else.

The simple truth is that romance is found in moments of strength and not weakness.  Cuffing Season is grounded in our insecurities; our inability to be alone.  That’s not love…these relationships are the straw dogs.

Screen Shot 2018-11-27 at 2.57.40 PM.png
That No Two Snow Flakes are the Same
it’s Pretty Wild that…

I omitted the key word.  No two snowflakes are “exactly” the same.

2 Hydrogrens, 1 Oxygen, and a deep freeze….every single snow flake is exactly the same actually.  Under the microscope, they vary, but how often do you look that closely?  I know how found we all are of feeling special, and I guess we think frozen water droplets need the same recognition.

The marvel of winter isn’t the snowflake, it’s the blanket of powder.  Sometimes, we need to surrender our individualism and embrace being a part of the pack.  It’s not so bad to just fit in and it’s not always that important to flaunt your differences.

But hey, whatever helps you sleep, baby.

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That the Homeless Will Rough It
it’s Pretty Wild that…

Nearly 2,000 froze to death in 2017.  As in their blood iced in their veins.

Last year was the first time I heard of NYC’s “Code Blue,” a municipal relief effort that seeks to refuge the homeless in severe weather conditions.

According to The Bowery Mission, in our city of roughly 8.5M people, nearly 1 in every 128 New Yorkers is without home.  Yeah…1 in 128, you just don’t swim in that circle.  The treatment they receive from government is atrocious, but, the lack of dignity we as cohabitants grant them is an equal crime.  These are the only people we flat out ignore, true personas-non-gratas.  It needs to change, and it starts at the individual level.

Officials and activists ask that we call 911 or 311 when we see someone in distress.  3 pushes on your cell, and a life will be save.


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