Good day, creatures. The triple-digit-temperatures have returned, and as the advent of this glorious poison summer inverts the otherwise indomitable laws of natural selection — ensuring that only the very very dumbest of us remain — I find myself thinking of all the people we’ve had pass through East Jesus this past season. While I’m sure that all of you are funny, interesting, smell nice, and look awesome naked,  a terrible life has made me more antisocial than Batman while the lack of murdered parents has made me nowhere near as good at martial arts. That said, here are the things I would’ve wanted to say to you if I didn’t hate people so much, and here are the things a perfunctory attempt at small talk made me say instead.

What I wanted to say: These extreme temperatures remind me of the opening line in Joe Lansdale’s “The Big Blow,” and is somewhat reminiscent of my time volunteering in Ghana.
What I probably said instead: Cock shit taintweasel HOT. Fucking HOT. As balls.

What I wanted to say: Your job sounds like it could be very rewarding, not dissimilar to the spiritual rewards I felt after my time volunteering in Ghana.
What I probably said instead: I tongue-kiss skulls on a semi-regular basis. Your job is nothing to me. Nothing.

What I wanted to say: On cold days like these, I like to relax with a book of Cheever’s short stories down by the hot springs, which tangentially remind me of this verdant gully I discovered while volunteering in Ghana.
What I probably said instead: HOT SPRIIINNNGGGS! WOOOOO!

What I wanted to say: So … want to have sex?
What I probably said instead: So … want to have sex?

Have a wonderful off-season. Thank you for everything you’ve done for the place. We’ll see you all in October.