It's very funny to carry an umbrella. To use and hold an umbrella is very odd. It is to make oneself exceptional from the weather. Which is a polite way of saying, “God's Judgement.”
God is not happy with this new leg wear. Hence this fog. God wishes there to be fewer mimes near that hospital: Lightning storm.
The umbrella can only be taken seriously as a cousin to more formal dinner utensils. An ersatz gravy boat, perhaps. Or gravy trough. But as a portable, public spotlight, the umbrella remains taped between swimming goggles and those awful little rubber thumb gloves secretaries wear.
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