Suffering is universal, of course. We all suffer, and we all find ways to distract ourselves from it as often as possible. What cold weather does is make us especially unable to distract ourselves from suffering. It dissects our optimism, laying us open, piece by piece, revealing the bits that composed our wintery cheer and freezing them solid. So we complain. We moan, we cry, we tweet, we Instagram snapshots of temperature gauges and the frost in our beards. We complain a lot, and it feels good. So, to help us broaden the number of ways we can express displeasure with our nation’s airmass, allow me to put this arctic vortex in baseball terms: It’s Pete Kozma. And he’s about to bat for your team.
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