In one episode of The Simpsons, the PTA met at Springfield Elementary to discuss the misprinted calendars. As Homer took off his hat and gloves, he complained about the “lousy Smarch weather.” No other Simpsonian phrase could better summarize the unexplainable blizzard brought upon us Sunday night because of girls’ evil ways. There, I said it again: We were given excessive amounts of snowfall because we are being punished for the sins women have committed through the years. If you have a better explanation, I’d like to hear it.

I caught a cold last week and apparently I gave it to Mother Nature over the weekend, because a normal late March day doesn’t usually consist of white precipitation moving horizontally across the ground. In which direction is the wind taking the snow, you ask? The answer is simple: right in your face, no matter where you walk. The high gusts were so strong, that by the time I got back to my dorm, my goatee was almost completely encrusted with a silvery white substance. My pants became so drenched, all I have to do to wash them is wear them in an upcoming laundry detergent storm. And it’ll probably happen; everything else has.

The highlight of the day had to be the unnamed stranger walking by me on campus in shorts, a T-shirt and sunglasses, raving about the “lovely spring weather.” I turned around and asked Johnny Frostbite if he lost a bet, and he just shouted back “It’s spring!” I can understand his statement that the weather should be warmer and not as treacherous, but I can think of another statement that is louder: hypothermia. Actually, the temperature isn’t so bad. The last time I checked, it was only 27 degrees. I wore three layers and a coat, and my torso area was nice and toasty. However, legend has it, if it does get cold, a group of blondes will huddle around a candle. And if the temperature goes below zero, they’ll even light it.

In fact, the latest weather was so shocking, I scrapped the article I had written Sunday night on reality TV. Just so an hour’s worth of writing isn’t completely lost, here is the gist of the previously planned article: I don’t like “Survivor”, reality TV is a misnomer and Jeff Probst isn’t nearly as funny as Dodge Neons methodically spinning out of control on a snowy side road.

I shouldn’t be surprised. The forecasts for “Snow-ling Green” have been more inconsistent than Ohio State football. The temperature has been more unstable than the Middle East. Even the Canadians make fun of our weather conditions. At least they know they’re weather’s going to suck. We have to wait until we wake up and see where in the range of 30 to 60 degrees the temperature will be.

Let’s think about this for a minute. We’re at war with terrorists, right? Don’t you think it’s possible that they’re tampering with our weather? All we’ve experienced this year is a different climate every week. President Bush shouldn’t be pushing for nuclear warheads, because if we launch them, they would only soar through the real problem: the clouds. Our Department of Defense should invest in nuclear windshield wipers and tactical snowplows. Guns don’t kill people. Avalanches kill people. And the best way to prevent avalanches are strategically placed salt trucks. Tanks and armored cars would just fishtail in this weather. Stealth bombers wouldn’t have enough visibility to fly anywhere. Our soldiers should put away the fatigues and don thermal underwear and stocking hats.

Go ahead and dismiss this crazy theory. But six months ago, it was crazy for two of our own planes to crash into two of New York’s tallest buildings. All I know is that we must beat the terrorists at their own game. They gave us snow, so let’s form it all into thousands of snowballs and pelt them back to Tora Bora. Then after we’re done playing, we can all come insid for a cup of hot chocolate. It’s on me; I need to get rid of all this money on my meal plan.