Hey, news flash: It’s still Summer, OK? In point of fact and Exhibit A, if you will, on my Gregorian Calendar, it’s fucking August, the eighth month of the year, which is in the Summer, so keep that back-to-school bullshit crap outta my face for another month, dig?

September is "back to school," not August, and I don’t care if you’re in school right now, and I don’t care if you go back to school in August, it’s not back to fucking school yet, and it’s not time for Fall Fashion, and it’s not Fall, it’s Summer in the fucking city, got it?

And fuck you and your back-to-school buy-a-new-laptop with the fingerprint-ID thing, whichever computer company that is. It’s like, my fingerprint is sweating and it’s August, as in Not yet the Season of Fall, but on the teevee it’s the next OBEY/CONSUME season, you know? And all these goddamn ads for the new teevee shows in the Fall? First of all, what’s with all these bummer shows about people stealing shit and being professional scumbag lawyers? Jeez, don’t we all get enough of that in our respective day-to-days? And for fuck’s sake, you’re not making me like Live on the Sunset Studio 360 or whatever the fuck it’s called more than I wanna like it now since I haven’t seen it yet, umkay? And fuck you for that Netflix early-ordering of free-teevee show premieres scheme. I’m loyal enough to my fucking network teevee, don’t push it.

Anyway, it’s Summer, man, so, like, quit Autumning all over my Summer. I’m still sweating bullets down my hind crevice on my bike, and on the goddamn commercials it’s fucking Old Navy or whatever with clothes for Fall and back-to-school. Fuck you. I’m still looking for a pair of madras shorts, man, so back the fuck off with the Fall fashions. I wanted some nice madras shorts, you know? They are light and comfortable, so what’s the deal with the shortage of madras shorts, hah? I thought madras was, like, a classic material or something, jeez, but they got fucking argyle sweater vests on sale at the Old Navy and it’s a hundred fucking millionkabillion degrees outside, where it is August, as in Summer.

And speaking of more shit that I don’t like, fuckers, you right now quit telling me I gotta take a sleeping pill before I go to sleep just because in my mind I’m running things over, things I gotta do tomorrow, you know? It’s called thinking, and I understand They don’t want us to do that shit anymore, and so if you’re telling me if it interferes with my sleep I gotta drug myself, well, then I reject your diagnosis, Doctor Motherfucker. Everybody should lose a little sleep once in a while, especially if it means they are working their brain while they are not thinking, but if it’s, like, to the point where you really can’t sleep, then that’s what my friend Television is for, man, I guarantee it. I prescribe you one of those Law and Order: Criminal Intent marathons on the teevee, man, seriously, you’re gonna be stackin’ Z’s before Vincent D’Onofrio starts gettin’ all Psychological and/or annoying on The Suspect. And if you’re all worried in your head about, like: Wow, I couldn’t sleep because I was lying awake wondering if I should take a pill like my teevee told me I should whenever I can’t sleep due to too much thinking in my brain and now I’m trying to be a good citizen and watching some Law and Order as a way to dampen the hum in my skull from all those thoughts flyin’ around in there but now I don’t wanna fall asleep because I need to see whodunit because I’m never gonna catch this particular episode of the Law and Order ever again because, fuck, man, there’s like a quadzillion episodes of the L&O out there, and, damn, I gotta know who the Killer is, man, but the other night when I couldn’t sleep when I drove by the Walgreens, where they keep all the drugs, and the red dot-sign with all my Instructions on it said 150 ct filler $3, and that’s just some bullshit, man, it’s not back to school yet, why they gotta be doing loose-leaf paper price announcements when it’s so boiling humid hot Summer out here and still not even close to being Fall, and then I go inside the Rite-Aid because what’s the difference, Walgreens, CVS, Rite-Aid, Happy effing Harry, it’s all just part of the Habitrail now it’s gotta be there’s a fucking drugstore on every goddamn corner and the Rite-Aid down the street sells beer, which is perfect, and they got goddamn fucking cough drops, the Ricola and the Halls Mentho-Lyptus at the checkout, but it’s not fucking Autumn yet, man, they got the cold-weather shit out and I’m sweating and can’t find any madras shorts and Zzz-z-zznxxx . . .

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