When you grow up cold in the Midwest, one of the first impulses is to flee from the gloominess and the misery surrounding you: No oceans. Few lakes. Lots of ponds. Faraway mountains in non-neighboring states encapsulate you and make Summers stiflingly hot and humidified. When we reach the age of consent in our time of reason, many of us bolt West to Los Angeles or East to New York. Not many head up North to Minneapolis or Chicago and, fewer still, move Southward to Kansas City. If you are a tender Californian, I urge you to stop reading this article right now. You will not be happy with the continuation of my argument.