My Little Golden Book of Phobias

Here in Seattle it is so cold the ice cream truck playing Turkey In The Straw is ironic or merely annoying because you were previously in your yard in your fur coat and mittens and you were shocked to see that your roses were blooming surely a freakish mistake and even 5000 iu's of vitamin D won't scare away the inevitable blues that accompany the sunless and frigid clime wherein you live and you can't convince your children to move back (why the hell would they, from California where they have what they call "nice weather" which means, I believe, warmth and sun which is why their brains go all soft and they elect an Austrian actor to play governor for them during a terrible fiscal season really I'm wandering far off the topic where was I oh yeah) anyway the lack of sun/warmth is very fine for lettuce and spinach the roses are just being foolish blooming as they are trying to get attention I suppose but actually I would like to silence the ice cream truck in a clever and deceitful way like teleportation or I could slip the driver a wee bit of mescaline which as I remember was a very entertaining experience and he would have to cease playing that damn tune and instead toss ice cream cups cones and redwhiteblue popcicles onto the ground and he'd be temped to take the first ferry to Victoria to see his only love before the illusions wore off and he wouldn't mind mortality or natural disasters or even his true love's snaggletooth or liniments made of rue.