The Old Farmer’s Almanac released their Long Range Forecast this week, predicting a winter full of icy cold temperatures and heavy snowfall on the East Coast, but milder temperatures elsewhere. Here are a few other predictions the almanac has made for the upcoming winter:
– Todd Marston of Superior, WI will continue living in his mom’s basement throughout the season, eating all her groceries and using what little money he makes dealing weed to buy lottery tickets and tattoos of his ex-girlfriend’s name. Around March, he will become restless and begin pleasuring himself with his non-dominant left hand. If he closes his eyes tightly enough, it will feel like he’s getting a handy from a ghost.
– The Minnesota Vikings will install new luxury suites in the players’ locker room, allowing their most wealthy season ticket holders the chance to eat buffalo wings and drink $12 beers whilst watching Adrian Peterson shower.
– Corporations will replace the charade of “voluntary” 12-14 hour work days and declare workers their personal property, buying and selling them as slaves. Workers will briefly attempt to revolt, but give in once the corporations offer a 10 percent discount at a local fitness center.
– Duluth Reader columnist Paul Ryan will continue writing 850-word humor columns, despite the fact that the modern human being’s attention span is only 2-3 sentences.
– The entire nation will continue foolishly relying on Facebook to remember the birthdays of close friends and family members. Drama will ensue when your uncle maliciously changes his birthdate to the wrong day just to see how many of his relatives truly love him.
– McDonald’s, desperate to fix declining sales, will replace their PlayPlace indoor playgrounds with VapePlace, a special area where goateed newsboy cap wearing 20-somethings can vape cannabis oil while analyzing episodes of Mr. Robot.
– Natalie Balsom of Cloquet, MN will once again spend three hours of her workday choosing a new cover photo for her social media accounts. She will then sigh loudly, look at her own tired reflection in her computer monitor, and whisper to herself, “Come for me, sweet death. I am ready.”
– Duluth Reader columnist Paul Ryan, desperate to find a sixth person willing to read his humor columns, will begin wearing colorful snapback caps and donning a hip hop persona. It will not work.
– Your doctor will carefully examine a suspicious mole on your back and find it’s actually just a dab of chocolate that still tastes delicious.
– Nestle will finally revise the packaging of Hot Pockets so the photos don’t make their product look like bizarre alien vaginas.
– Everyone on public transit who uses their iPhone as a boombox will mysteriously disappear and wake up on a desert island where they can no longer bother others.
– Your dog will continue pretending to like you when you don’t have treats, knowing that sometime in the near future you will.
– Your cat, who doesn’t work or pay bills, will have more sex in one day than you do the entire year, and he will not have to buy his partners dinner or wear a condom. He is so much happier than you.
– Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton will reveal that she is actually a space alien that feeds on human misery and sriracha. Donald Trump will still lose by a landslide.
– In the third nationally televised debate, Republican nominee Donald Trump will – live on the air – sit on a child’s face and break wind multiple times. His poll numbers amongst core supporters will remain stable.
– The homeless man playing his guitar at the bus stop for spare change will finally earn enough to get his life back together, get an apartment and some new clothes and enter the workforce again, becoming a productive member of society and making your small donations to him invaluable. Just kidding! He’s a drug addict. He’ll be dead by spring.