Situations take place that demand a strong, brave soul to step up, grab the mic/bullhorn/conveniently-located breast, and lead the masses with powerful words and inspirational language that comforts, soothes and placates the people across the land.
This is one of those times.
I am that person.
This summer sucked dead, yeasty, rotted hobo balls.
It’s true that things happened across this tiny blue marble
in the past three months to give us pause and make us send our hearts and
thoughts* out to others in times of despair. There have been storms and
hurricanes, floods and fires. Wars in several countries, landscapes littered
with the dead husbands, wives, parents and children of the unenviable survivors
of these violent acts committed by man against man. There is Malaysia Airlines,
which can’t catch a goddamn break. The death of celebrities, either by natural
causes or their own hands. The use of deadly force by those we entrust with
public safety against an innocent man. The really, really shitty movies
released in theaters for our “pleasure” at seizure-inducing prices. People
randomly posting videos of themselves dumping buckets of water on their heads
for reasons that are now lost to time, forgotten and meaningless. The lime shortage that effected my enjoyment
of summer cocktails. Sharknado 2.
But most importantly, the summer did not live up to its
contractual obligation of being oppressively hot and sweaty in the DMV. I don’t
know about things where you live,**
but here in the Nation’s Capital, this summer has been a big old moist let
down. August alone was just a month-long cloudfest. The temperatures were warm
and comfortable, the humidity wasn’t a problem and we had plenty of rain to
make sure plants grew and lawns were watered. And I say boo to all of this.
Where were the mosquitoes? What happened to the requisite
weight-loss through sweating? Or the hours spent in icky bliss, peeling off
sunburnt skin? And the Ice Cream Man, dammit! Where was he?!
All of the things that make summer simultaneously the most
fun and most frustrating time of year were not evident in 2014. I mean, for the
love of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, school started in August! That offends me
to my core. Do children no longer have a voice to speak out for themselves? Let
the kids be kids. Don’t force them into classes so soon. And don’t give me that
crap about how kids need to be in school more to stop their brains from
atrophying during the summer (both the purpose of summer in the first place,
and the name of my next album: Atrophying
Brains) and make us more competitive in the global arena. Americans lost
that battle years ago, as exemplified by the fact that there’s a television reality
show about Amish criminals.
Sure we can blame any number of things. It’s the fault of
Climate Change. God is punishing us for worshiping the Kardashinans. Maybe we
need to all get our shit together and throw a couple virgins into a volcano.
Perhaps evil aliens are slowly transforming our planet into an environment more
suitable for them (I call credit if that ends up being the real reason). But it
doesn’t matter. The summer is over now, and with it, joy. Now we get on with
our lives, spend the rest of the year plodding through our pointless and wasted
existences. Doing our best to pretend that it’s all for the best. That we enjoy
waking up and it’s dark out. Getting off of work and it’s dark out. Bundling up
in layers of clothes. Dealing with increased traffic and gridlock.
But still, somewhere deep in our minds, always there, always
waiting, like a beacon of purpose and fulfillment: the image of a palm tree on
an empty beach at gloaming.
And those damn mosquitoes.
*Absolutely no idea
what this phrase means and you don’t either. Don’t even pretend like you do. It’s
a mindless thing that people repeat because others say it. Like “please” and “thank
you”.
**Unimportantville?
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