Summer is that season I have to endure, always has been. It's a long crawl through 3 months of cheeriness and insect swarms and sun-blasted, burnt yellow grass. This particular 2025 version is going to be extra muggy, with the Trump administration at the helm. Since November's results, it's felt like we've been ramping up to a fever pitch, culminating into Pride month and weaponizing the military. A man who should have been publicly drawn and quartered for treason has threaded the needle and led us into a whole new level of surrealism. At least now I think I've come to expect anything, though. Musk has floated the idea of becoming President, and I can see that. Why couldn't I have seen it earlier, really. He certainly has enough money to make it happen. Then he could contract himself ad nauseam.

I have conceivably three more summers of this to look forward to, and we've barely gotten into this first one. Politics aside, I guess I'd have to admit the one thing that's alright about summer is other people I love seem to enjoy it. They have to endure my unwarranted cheeriness during the winter, so I owe them some reciprocation. I guess it's fun to wear sunshades, and my half Mexican skin develops a tan. There, I said nice things about summer.