Today is one of those shatteringly pretty days in Los Angeles.  Nuts pretty.  Astonishingly pretty.  Unfairly pretty.  Clear sky, fifties; gentle, cool breeze in your face; surprisingly clean, delicious air.  Really very moving. 

All over America, we all take our climates a lot more for granted ever since we fundamentally conquered them.  Miami to Minneapolis, those who care to avoid nature usually can.  I don’t know whether this is good or bad until the temperature wherever I am goes below ten or above a hundred.  At that point I’m pretty sure it’s good.  Conquering it, that is.

At all other times I hate heating and air conditioning.

All other times.

Hate.

I hate going into a bar in New York in February wearing seven layers of sweaters, scarves, coats and hats, and instantly getting hit by a blast of unnaturally super-heated air very close in temperature and intensity to lying directly under a 1968 Titan rocket during takeoff.

I don’t know if rockets had years, like cars, but it seemed right there.  “Hey, Bill, are you still thinking of getting that ‘71 SS Chevelle with the Hurst pistol grip and the Hooker’s Headers?”  “No, maybe next year.  For now, Helen and I decided to jump in with both feet and pick up that ‘64 Atlas two-stage solid-fuel-burner we’ve had our eye on.  My brother-in-law gave the twins that ‘61 Mercury capsule in the playroom for their last birthday, so, of course, it seemed like the right move.”

(It actually just struck me after writing the last paragraph that a “Mercury Cougar” to “Mercury capsule” joke might have been more concise, and probably just as good, but I’m going to leave the Chevelle stuff in.  After all, how often does one get to mention Hooker’s Headers?)  Also…

N.B.  I love the word “joke”.  It’s a very deep, honorable word to me, and nothing frivolous.  Calling something a joke, or referring to a joke is as loftly in my view as a scientist using the word “formula”, or a teacher saying “essay”, or a doctor saying “scalpel”.

Back to too much climate control.

I don’t know why a wood fireplace in a bar in winter, or just leaving it chilly and keeping your coat on while you warm yourself with the product they’re selling isn’t just as good as getting it up to eighty-four from front to back.

I feel the same way about air conditioning.  Every place in America that gets hot in the summer is far too air-contiditioned.

But that will have to wait till tomorrow.  I want to blog more, but haven’t learned to tell stories in just a few sentences; and I probably never will.  For good or ill, these pieces take me hours.  So let’s pick up the cudgels anon, okay?

Besides, let’s see if tomorrow is as pretty as today.  (Hint:  If you’re alive and well, it already is.)

LARRY MILLER  11/29

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 29th, 2006 at 2:53 pm and is filed under Larry Miller Humor. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.