Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Summertime and the livin's not easy.‏

The summer is a vast wasteland, much like this.

I hate summer. It’s a visceral hot blooded hatred. There is nothing good about the Godforsaken season. It’s too hot, and I don’t even live in a hot place. Only at the rarest of times does it go over 100 degrees in Colorado, and we have zero humidity. I have no idea how I would ever survive if I were in Memphis, Tennessee or Cowbutt, Texas. (To be fair, I doubt there is a town named Cowbutt, Texas, but it looked funny when I typed it.)

I sweat, a lot, and far too easily. It’s yet another negative side effect of being fat. Mind you, I’m not “small-child pointing at me” fat, but enough that heat and I don’t get along. I don’t care for sunburns or mosquitoes, and both seem to proliferate during the June-July-August time frame.

Thank God I have an air conditioned office, or there is no way I could make it through an entire summer and resist the urge to kill. I think the reason that the murder rate spikes in the summer months (especially in hot places, i.e. the South) is that people get irrational when their internal temperature reaches a certain point. I call this the irrationally stupid hot boiling point, and when anyone hits this internal temperature they become irrationally stupid. If you put Stephen Hawking in Atlanta in July and had him simmer on the street for a few hours, he’d be doing drive-bys with his wheelchair, it doesn’t matter who you are, everyone has a breaking point with the irrationally stupid hot boiling point. My ISHBP is much lower than the average person’s, which is why I have to be careful. I carry an ice tray in my back pack during July, you know, just in case.

Of course, I’m a sports fan, and while I like baseball as much as the next guy, it gets a little bare bones when baseball is the only thing on the docket. It’s so bad at the moment that I just intentionally bought four tickets to a Major League outdoor lacrosse game. Okay, so mostly I did it because they are also having fireworks afterwards, but you can see how dangerous this could become. Thankfully, the summer lasts but a few months in my part of the world, and then comes that most glorious of seasons. Autumn. Even the word is beautiful. Autumn brings with it football, and cooler temperature, and pretty leaves, and the World Series, and fantasy football, oh, and it’s not summer. Basically all good things. So as we sit here at the end of June, I am girding my loins. Yes, it is summer, but I comfort myself by knowing that fall is coming. It’s not coming quickly enough for my liking, but it will come. Hallelujah, it will come.

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