What Happens Under the Great Gum Tree
We're late. It happens. We've been threatened with police action (really), not slept the entire weekend (mostly really), and now my face has melted off, making it hard to see if I'm typing an 'm' or a comma (really).
Watch: ,m,m,m,m,,,,,,m,mmm,,mm,m,m,m,m,m,,m,m,m,m,m,m,m,m,m,
See? I couldn't tell you in what order those all came in.
So it's been a busy, hectic sort of week.
And we have nothing for you. I repeat, nothing. I'm not being funny, not saying, "oh, we have nothing for you this week," and then rambling for what seems like hours, probably, if you're a slow reader, about something. Sure, it may be something insignificant and boring, it may be something about socks, but it is something.
Nothing for you.
At all. Imagine, if you will, that this is a birthday party, and you're eleven or so... and you've shown up, in your best outfit, though we all know it's going to be in ruins minutes after being dropped off. And it's our birthday party, and we're also eleven. So you show up, knocking on the door, being very polite to our parents, who let you in to the house, and it's sweltering in the house. Even this little detail is nothing. It is, in fact, in reality, sweltering right now. It's past 11pm, and the house is shimmering at around 86 degree Fahrenheit. We don't have air conditioning in this imagining or in real life.
So you come in, present your present to us, which we get very excited about, and chuck it on this massive pile of presents sitting in the close by.
A couple kids are standing in the corner, near the television, not playing video games. They're not playing video games because there's no video game player to be had. There's an old television in the corner, and it's not even plugged in. One of the more clever kids tried plugging it in a little earlier, only to find there were no outlets, whatsoever. So they're standing there, each one of them dripping wet from the heat, watching as new people come in, pop their present on the top of the pile, and join them in the line against the wall. The biggest excitement involves betting on when the pile will topple, in what direction, and will it crush anyone of them, sparing them the misery.
At any rate, that's it. You stand in that line for hours, watching more people come in, you get no snacks, no food, no drinks, no goodie bags! You're pissed off, you're sweaty, it has been the worst birthday party ever.
Only that's not a great analogy. Which I suppose is okay, as I only said "imagine this is a birthday party," perhaps getting you to do the work of writing this week's issue instead of intending to make a point or anything. Or maybe it was meant to be, and it's only just too too darn hot to think on a sleep deprived stretch.
Lemurs.
disclaimer:
Just another update: another Monday, err, Tuesday issue, another searing bit of heat on my lap from the laptop and the air. Go figure. It's getting a little ridiculous. When the heck did New England get so damn hot?
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Adios for now, chaps.
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