Head colds, frigid temps and humorless jazz

As some of you know, my goal in life is to make no future plans whatsoever. That way, when I accomplish even the most menial task, a ticker-tape parade follows, in my honor.

Well, I did make one exception to that rule. I kind of made a resolution to avoid reruns, in this space, as much as humanly possible, in 2014. I almost went back on my word, to myself, because, just like last January, I'm totally, TOTALLY, suffering from some sort of gunk that refuses to wave the white flag.

I'm not sure what the situation is with this particular bug, but it simply will not exit, stage left. It leaves for a day, or so, and then, returns with speed and extra agility. It's sort of like a kid going off to college and then returning on weekends with his laundry in tow. What is going on? I'm blaming it on the latest, and greatest, weather phenomenon known as the Polar Vortex.

Fair warning: Even though this is an original rant, it probably won't be entertaining, grammatically socially acceptable or remotely readable.

Wasn't that a glowing intro? I'm sure you cannot wait to peruse the rest of this horrific column, after such a fantastic description.

Anyhow, I'm simply going to vent about the weather and anything else that comes to mind. Hold on.

I'm wondering what newscasters would do if winter weather refused to act so, well, wintery. For one, the reporter would have to stay indoors, rather than impart information whilst standing outside, in said cold. I'm not so sure why this unfolds and, years ago, I dedicated an entire column to something similar. However, I had to revisit it briefly in order to fill space.

I guess that the viewing audience somehow wouldn't believe how brutally frigid it was, without witnessing valid evidence, in the form of a quaking correspondent. I don't know about you but, I simply adore watching as mouths move like ventriloquist dummies, due to the dropping mercury levels.

Also, what else would be newsworthy if, indeed, the winter conditions refused to participate? Freezing air appears to be the breaking bulletin of the day. There is nothing else going on in the world, as it is simply too frosty.

NEWS ALERT: It's that time of the year when certain areas of the word become super, duper, really, very, to the max, freezing. Can you dig it?

Everyone is up in arms about iced weather, during this particular season, and I don't comprehend it at all. Yes, I know that this year has been insanely hideous and lives have been lost due to it all. I'm not making light of that and will now type a preemptive apology, as is the custom, these days. How was that for saying I'm sorry?

Moving along to something, anything at this point...Let's see, what else has me ready to scale tall buildings and open fire with snowballs?

OK, I've conjured another gripe—hard to imagine but it's true.

Last night I had the honor (?) of taking in a brief portion of an awards show on the telly. I believe it was the People's Choice Awards. At any rate, why do producers of this kind of program insist on including supposed hilarious banter between two unfunny (is that a word?) human beings?

Since the show was live, after humorless jokes were pitched forth, the non sound of non laughter didn't fill the air. I was almost embarrassed for the hosts but then thought that they should have known better.

It would be different if a real, live, comedian like Billy Crystal or Jon Stewart did the honors since they possess a touch of hilarity within.

Just cut to the chase and give us the winner's name. Forget about lame attempts at making the audience throw back heads while roaring in laughter. See, I gave up on doing so with the first keystroke of this delightful column. How's it working thus far? I thought so.

Well, I guess I've fulfilled my obligation of the week by prattling on about goofy jazz that only bothers me.

With that, I'm off to stuff more tissues in my nostrils. Isn't that a fabulous visual?