All week long, we'll be keeping track of the weather conditions for Super Bowl XLVIII. Here is your Tuesday update.
Current temperature: 13 degrees
Wind chill: 0 degrees. Zero. Nothingness. The air is dead, and soon you will be, too.
Feels like: You ever go outside when it's cold to play catch and your asshole friend wants to show off his arm strength so he fires the ball as hard as he can and it hits you in the hand and stings like a bitch? It feels like that, all the time, all over your body.
Skies: Pallid. Stretched like mummy's skin. A spent sun in the sky, like a fading signal from a lost civilization.
Winds: Exhaled from the mouth of a very large, angry, bearded God. Demaculus—LORD OF THE WINDS—shall blow the lands clean for the coming of the new age. It is time for the serpent people to begin their conquest.
Chance of Thunderdome: 5.6 percent
Will you die? If you stay inside, huddled near a large cast-iron furnace that is fed fresh anthracite four times an hour, maybe not. MAYBE. Do not touch any windows. Do not go near doors. Do not even THINK of being outside, or else the thought weather (christened Thought'Easter Padme by the Weather Channel) will kill.
Extended Super Bowl forecast: A front of literal high pressure—stress, angst, apprehension—is moving in from the West. Once it arrives in New Jersey, it will seize MetLife Stadium and crush it down to the size of a tennis ball. You will not survive it unless you possess the Zen-like calm of a Russell Wilson. Everything must CLOSE in anticipation of Padme: schools, banks, government agencies, hospital respirators, EVERYTHING. Except Chinese restaurants. Chinese restaurants ain't scared of nothin'.