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Shitty weather rocks!
by Malderor

So I'm going oto go out on a limb here and predict that this is the first year since 1997 the year Burning Man was held on private land on Hualapi Playa that Black Rock City has experienced population shrinkage. What with the absolute collapse of the Bay Area economy, and the ongoing exodus of San Francisco artists and technonerds, Black Rock City has lost many of its core contributors. (And yeah, sure, maybe you drove out from Des Moines for this event, and don't see it as a "Bay Area" thing. You're deluding yourself, sweetie. Every second person here drove over the hill from the City by the Bay. If you want something 'global', try the Rainbow Gathering.)

Anyway, the BRC has gotten smaller because of the economy and, like so many things, it shrunk because of the cold. When the yuppie scumwads from my office, (now laid-off) all decided to come to Burning Man last year, I cringed. But, you know, in the spirit of inclusiveness, I welcomed these ivy-league MBA nimrods to the scene, and held their hands while they "tripped out" on "weed", and snapped photos of all the naked chicks.

But, for the second year running, Mother Nature was less than welcoming. Two years ago the wind-storms were so bad that they snapped my tent-poles and I had to live in our truck. Last year everybody's projects got ravaged by the wind, porta-potties were blown over, and the whole City was in survival mode. The freezing rain really bit into people's fun. I remember leaving Paul Oakenfold's set after only 45 minutes, because I was tired of standing ankle deep in mud while icy rain lashed my face. Woohoo, party!

So I was unsurprised when the aforementioned One-Year BM Veterans passed me in the office hallway, and said, "oh, yeah, I don't think we're going to go to Burning Man this year. You know, we were so tired after last time, and we don't really think we can muster the energy, and blah, blah, fucking blah."

Me, I've been coming to the Burn a while, and I remember the crystal-clear, shirt-sleeve evenings of old. Seventy-degree evenings, sitting in the hot-springs, or, (more accurately) getting my groove on with my sweetie in the reeds around the hot-springs. Such memories compel me to return, even though the weather the last two years has, you know, SUCKED.

Yeah, the weather might be crappy again this year. It might rain, and there might be more days of non-stop 70 mile-per-hour wind. Hell, I might get struck by lightening out on the playa, or brained by a hailstone the size of Pepe's ego. Whatever. I'm not going to stop coming out here because it's a little goddamn nippy. Our camp has a tradition when the wind-storms hit. And this may surprise you, Yuppie-Boy, but it's not cowering in our tents, and whining about how frickin' cold we are. It's cranking up the AC/DC on our illegally-loud sound system and go-go dancing on our picnic tables. We're having fun in the face of adversity. If this concept doesn't appeal to you, perhaps you aren't cut out to be a Black Rock Citizen.

And if you're a snivelling milquetoast, who would prefer a warm, dry bed and your jammies, stay the hell home and leave Black Rock City to us. Maybe there's a nice rerun on the TV, or heck, your SUV needs waxing. Better yet, you can just watch the Burn on CNN and tell all your friends that you used to go, but that "it just got too commercial, man." Whatever. We know the truth. And we invite your weak ass to stay the fuck home.

So yeah, I'm glad the weather sucked for the past couple of years. It separated the wheat from the chaff. The men from the boys. The drag queens from the jocks-wearing-dresses. This place would be an overpopulated Hell if it were easier to get to or milder in climate. It's supposed to be a trial by fire.

And the best thing about the shitty weather is that, for once, we won't be hearing people say "Oh, it was so much better last year."

2002 Piss Clear
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