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Ah, Summer, by far the fairest of the seasons. Well… not really. That description fits Spring better, if you want to get into technicalities… but you know what — fuck those. Technicalities aside, what I should have said anyway is that Summer is by far the best season. And if you disagree, you can go eat a sandwich. MADE OUT OF KNUCKLES

And wouldn’t you rather be eating a mutagen bar, anyway?

There are people out there in this wild world who actually say crazy things like, “I enjoy the change of seasons.” And they’re not saying it purely from a sense of premature nostalgia for a future climate ravaged by greenhouse gasses, dying oceans, deforestation, solar flares, nuclear war, run-on sentences, whatever. This is surprising to me, because the other three seasons only serve as a reminder of why Summer is so goddamned good. I have a good memory. If you don’t, try taking some Ginkgo biloba¹.

And then there are people who don’t like Summer at all. I don’t trust these people. Frankly, they’re mildly worrisome. If you don’t find some sense of magic, as horrifically sappy as that sounds, in the sun and sweat of a real Summer, I have another suggestion for you. Put a magnet to the base of your neck, it will fix your problems. And mine — one less robot in the world.

¹Dedleg LLC is not a certified medical doctor, nor does he own one of those awful “Trust Me, I’m a Doctor” t-shirts. He is also not a limited liability company. But he is pretty good at Mario Kart when he’s drunk.