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Why Do The Things I Say Only Fall On Empty Air?
At first I thought, "Well, that's it. Somebody with their finger on the button has gone and pulled a 'Major Ripper', and now we're all in the shite fer sure." But, a nuclear detonation in the upper atmosphere expands and dissipates as the blinding glow of the fireball moves down the visible spectrum from arclight white, to yellow, to orange, to red, and the tremendous heat and pulse of electro-magnetic particles, of photons and gamma and xrays gradually radiates off into the coolness of the surrounding air or out into the frigid vacuum of space. So, clearly this was something else.
Oh yeah.
Sol.
Helios.
Ravi.
Shakuru.
Re.
Inti.
Elagabalus.
Hvar.
Nuada.
Shen Yi.
Shamash.
Hunahpu.
Vivasvat.
A sun by any other name would feel so warm.
Whatever you call yourself, nice to see you again. Looks like you're thinking of settling in for a long stay.
Yeah, us mossbacks looooove the damp, the gray, the perpetual twilight that permeates our world for three-quarters of the year. But that just makes us appreciate our brief twelve weeks of clement weather all the more. I mean, sunshine all the time? How boring. How maddening. It's why I immediately suspect the sanity of anyone from Southern California: how can you spend that much time OD'ing on Vitamin D and NOT go a little crazy in the head?
Picture an old-fashioned cast-iron frying pan. "This is your brain." Now, toss in some scrambled egg, a little diced bacon, avocado slices, wedges of Roma tomato and grated Monterey Jack cheese. Season with fresh ground black pepper and cilantro. "This is your brain on 325 days of sunshine per year. Any questions?
The thermometer in the kitchen reads 70 degrees, while here in the bedroom it's a bracing 68; presumably the outside temp at 11:00 p.m. is about the same, as I've had the doors and windows open since arriving home at around 4:30 p.m., and the Second Law of Thermodynamics has had a good six and a-half hours to do its thing inside my apartment.
Banana Belt.
Living La Vida Esoleada.
But, not to worry, in typical Upper Left Hand Fashion, we'll be jonesing for a little "liquid sunshine", oh round about, Thursday, two weeks from now. By then, the locals will all be complaining, "It's sooo hot! My plants are absolutely frying! And we don't have air conditioning! And I'm sick of peeling sheets of dead, flaking skin off my back every morning! WHERE IS OUR BEAUTIFUL RAIN????"
Yeah, too much of a good thing, and all.
Ungrateful lot, aren't we?
Posted byCOMTE
on 10:27 PM
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