It’s getting cold. Suddenly your friends are hesitant to visit you at Vita House, and music majors can be seen shuffling to the Music Center in groups to share body warmth. Your nose drips, and your lips are dry.
If I learned anything from the movie “Balto,” it’s that we can’t count on modern medicine for anything.
Fortunately, there is hope. I have fought the winter for the past four years, and have compiled a research-based, peer-edited “Compendium of Wintertide Recipes & Remedies” (Pinchpenny Press, 2011, $24.99). Here are some helpful selections:
Symptoms: hangnails on your lips.
Traditional chapped lip treatments follow two schools of thought. One, popular in temperate climates, advocates applying recycled greasy lipids or used Pennzoil directly to the affected area.
The other, apparently an old Kwakiutl process, advocates basting the lips with a solution of seawater and going for a brisk jog at dawn. After repeating this process for several days, you will find that your lips have a longer shelf life than beef jerky, and with no artificial preservatives! Don’t worry, the spring rains will likely rehydrate your lips to their full, original size.
Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
Symptoms: I don’t know… it’s just…. I don’t want to talk about it.
SAD, commonly known as seasonal depression, is a surprisingly simple matter to treat. While big city doctors generally recommend bright lights and other New Age hogwash, local witch doctors are more apt to prescribe a cleansing dose of catharsis.
“I went to my doctor to see how he could help me,” said Josh Delp, a senior, “He actually prescribed a paperback of “Old Yeller.” A friend had it worse, and he prescribed her “The Bell Jar.”
Though prescriptions for emotionally-purging literature are common, an over-the-counter copy of “Schindler’s List” or “Requiem for a Dream” will likely be as effective.
Symptoms: The ol’ molecules just don’t move like they used to…
Prevention is the only cure. Here is a little-known fact that might help out the juniors and seniors: in weather under six degrees Fahrenheit, most professors will accept a notarized first-year in your place. Points may be deducted for their inane drivel, their hopelessly idealistic banter or their repeated mentions of that one time they left the country for a week.
If you must leave your abode, keep in mind that you hold in your hands the best antidote to cold. “The Record” makes a great leg insulator. Stuff it down your pants!