We like to stay pretty competitive here at The Thrill, and a Blog Off is one way we can definitively prove that one of us is objectively a better blogger (dare we say, a better person). So we leave it to you, the reader, to decide in a blind taste test who is really better as we square off on various topics. This time around, we have Staff Writer, Reese Colbert-Pollack and Staff Writer, Alejandro Gonzalez ’24 battling it out RE: Which month is worse? February or March? Who will come out on top? Only you can decide.

Blogger A (Reese):

Ah February, the month that at least in our hearts, is the slushiest, darkest, and most SAD inducing of the whole year. Unlike March, it does not promise spring, but instead wet socks. “But lovely writer, isn’t a month’s weather quite undefinable, especially when considering the difference between the Northern and Southern hemisphere?” Excellent point dear content consumer! Let us cast off the cage of positive latitude supremacy and appreciate all the little disappointments that make February worse than March, and quite possibly all the other months, no matter where you are in the world.

Let’s keep in mind that as this humble blog is yet to be translated into other languages, really the “you” that is “in the world” is likely an English reader, and quite possibly an English speaker. Which means that you are probably just as vexed by the slippery pronunciation of the second (and most-likely-to-be-voted-off-the-island-firstest) month of the year. Is it “feh-BUE-ary” or “feh-BREW-ary?” You probably aren’t sure, and neither am I. But you can be sure that good ol’ March is only pronounced one way—”March”—because it is honest and lovely as opposed to vile and shifty like February.

You know what else makes the month vile? It contains the anniversary of “the day the music died”—February 3. The anniversary marks the day on which three of America’s most beloved rock and rolls musicians perished in a plane crash. The day’s events were so horrible, in fact, that they inspired Donald McLean’s infamous eight minute and forty-two second chart-topping single ”American Pie.” So next time you remember that music is dead, you can blame February.

Of course, we also can’t forget that February is a calanderical runt and deserves to be treated with the appropriate disrespect. I mean, March can hardly boast the additional negative two days that February holds over any other month in a common year. You read correctly dear reader—common year. Those are the non-leap-year ones in which February can cling to only 28 measly days. What I’m saying is February defines commonality; it’s positively vulgar when compared to the noble month that is March. Though of course February does distinguish itself by being the only month that manages to cruelly rip an extra day from the ether’s embrace every once in a while—usually every four years, but sometimes not because February likes to play mind games. March would never do us dirty like that. March is good at heart. February is a phonetically conflicted and music-killing plebeian psychological manipulator.

Blogger B (Alejandro):

In a perfect world, March would be the best month of the year. 

We, however, live in anything but a perfect world. 

I, unfortunately, can attest to this fact with some particular authority, as I myself am subject to the much-dreaded horrors of a mid-March birthday. It is, to say the very least, incredibly humiliating, and given this platform, I would like to take a moment to apologize, once and for all, to my mother, for having been born in March. 

I’m sorry.

But, you may ask, what makes March so horrible that I would be willing to mutiny against my own Birth-month? Well, there’s just so much that non-Marchites like yourself always seem to take for granted. For instance, holidays. Let’s take a moment to acknowledge February’s rather unique holiday of St. Valentine’s day. While this jubilee might bring you down with the seasonal blues every now and then, at least you have, like, at least a 2% chance of getting laid on Valentine’s, not bad when considered upon the aggregate of a lifetime.

Take this in contrast, however, against March’s signature holiday, St. Patrick’s Day, where the only thing that’s happening to you is getting run over by a drunk driver coming home from the bar at 7 P.M. Yikes… not a good look March, not a good look.

Further, February is the cheat month, the common man’s month, the month of the masses, considerate enough to not waste our time, only lasting a respectful 28 days. Enough time to perhaps leave you wanting just a little, teensy-weensy, bit more. And you know what, sometimes February delivers, and by popular demand supplies us with the extra-special “leap day” just for the heck of it! Now this is a month that cares.

March however, is the longest a month can possibly be, lasting a full 31 days! Ughh… what a slog. Already, by the time April rolls around, you’ve gotten over the Shamrock Shake induced high characteristic of late March, and are desperately looking for anything, simply anything, to make you feel alive again. This is, in part, why man invented the vile holiday we today call April Fool’s; the ugly duckling in the pantheon of national holidays, the one who sits in the far corner, facing the wall, with a dunce cap and a nosebleed. That one’s squarely on you March. Thanks a lot.

And don’t even get me started on March’s weather. It’s an emotional rollercoaster. March clearly can not decide whether it prefers the brisk, gracile climes of late February, or the sublime showers of early April. Instead, what you get is a sporadic mix between the two, a constantly-evolving juggling act which simultaneously raises and dashes your hopes for an imminent spring with each passing week. 

February, on the other hand, is consolingly consistent, supplying us each day with a steady stream of crisp, mild, temperatures, just a wonderful reprieve from the unforgiving brutalities of mid-January and the Janus-faced tendencies of that hoodlum March.

Also, it’s important to keep in mind which month brought down the dreadful horrors of quarantine, Covid-19, and online classes upon us. I’ll give you a hint, it certainly wasn’t February :|