maybe old man winter's not so bad after all

Welcome back, loyal readers! If I seem particularly cheery, it's because I -- The Haiku Master -- had my tenuous faith in humanity somewhat reaffirmed today...and it was Old Man Winter who did the reaffirming, if you can believe that!

Old Man Winter Showered The Haiku Master With Gifts To Make Up For His Earlier Misdeeds

As those of you with adequate reading comprehension skills will recall, O.M.W. and I had quite the nasty scuffle last week. And considering how much trouble he's caused me in recent years, I'd begun to ponder a more permanent solution to his antics, if you get my drift.*

Then, early this morning, it was like that French term for a sense of having been there before all over again: Old Man Winter woke me up with another of his god-awful ruckuses! At least he didn't break into my top secret base of operations this time; instead, he parked outside in his snowmobile, repeatedly laying on that tacky "Jingle Bells" horn of his.

"Haiku Master! Hey, Haiku Master!" he shouted. "Hey, it's me -- Old Man Winter!

I reached for my trusty megaphone and clicked it on. "Get out of here, you freon-sucking freak!" I bellowed. "It's not even noon yet! I'll come look for you in a few hours, and we can fight then!"

"No, no, you got me all wrong! Hey look, I'm real sorry about the other day, see? I wanna make it up to you. C'mon, lemme make it up to you!"

Peeking out my bedroom window, I saw there might be some truth to the villain's words. Perched on his lap were a number of princely gifts: an overstuffed hoagie, a bushel of fine Cubans, and a case of my favorite beer, Pabst Blue Ribbon: The Official Beer of The Haiku Master! Might as well see if he was on the up and up.

Pabst Blue Ribbon: The Only Beer Endorsed By The Haiku Master

As it turned out, he was, and we spent a swell afternoon eating sandwiches, getting drunk, and smoking cigars. Turns out he's bipolar and had been off his medication for awhile, but now he's bravely beating his disability instead of letting it beat him. Which is Dr. Phil speak for "taking a lot of pills," from what I can tell. But don't quote me on that.

Needless to say, I was still compelled to seek out some small token of revenge for his earlier churlishness -- one's street cred must be maintained, after all. So when O.M.W. asked to use the restroom, I instead directed him to the storm cellar and locked the door behind him. He's been down there two hours so far; three more should balance the karmic checkbook nicely.

I guess the lesson here is, not everyone who's a dick is a dick all the time, and everyone's a dick sometimes. Take it to heart, 'ku believers!

Best,


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* If you don't get my drift, I'm saying I wanted to kill him.