Powder7 vs. The Unbearable Whiteness of Being

I hope you’re sitting down, Powder7 fans, because I have astonishing news. Actually, if you’re doing that thing where you sit on an exercise ball at your desk, then you should probably stand up for this. Otherwise, you’ll roll right off. So, I guess what I’m saying is: either sit down or stand up, depending on your circumstances. In fact, maybe it would be best if everyone just lies flat on the ground and has someone else read the next sentence to you out loud. It snowed in Colorado’s mountains this week.

(Also, if anyone finds a wallet down there on the floor, I think it’s mine. Especially if it’s full of cash or bearer bonds.)

I think I can comfortably say that, after all this time we’ve shared together, you know me pretty well. We’ve cried. We’ve laughed. We’ve toured the country as a piano-pop cover band called Ben Folds Powder7.* Good times, all of them. The point is, you know me well enough to doubt every word I say. So here’s photographic evidence from the Breckenridge Facebook page:

And another–this time from Aspen, a place where the beer flows like wine:

This is real life, people. The first white peaks of the season. Which can only mean one thing: it’s time to get the planks out of the closet, slip on that spandex racing skin-suit, and practice your downhill tuck in the living room. Do that for just an hour or two a day and, by the time the resorts open in November, you’ll be ready. You will also have thoroughly creeped out all of your neighbors, and probably landed on a government watch list. Is it worth it? Yes.

A thousand times, yes.

Justin

* Other possible band names: “The Jackson Powder7,” “Powder7 Dog Night,” “Powder7 Non Blondes,” “Boyz Powder7 Men,” “Maroon Powder7,” “Powder7pence None the Richer,” “Powder7 Inch Nails,” and “Matchbox Powder7”.