It's time to admit it. The romance and nostalgia are dead. Every year I look forward to the summer, but it's time to wise the fuck up. Summertime blows. It's hot as shit, bugs are everywhere, my car is an inferno and its air-conditioning is competent at best, the heat makes me nauseous and lazy, I drink too much beer, and I sweat a lot. I'm not in school anymore. What charm can the summer hold for a man whose schedule is the same year-round? It's time for summer to get its ass smacked off the top of the seasonal chart. I like the fall. I like the spring. I hated winter in the Midwest, but in Texas, the winter is pretty damn swank. Somehow, summer retained a sexy reputation in my mind. Summer's been coasting on its grade-school charm for too long. It is the worst season. FUCK YOU SUMMER! YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE! I'll be smiling it up when October comes along and pimp-slaps this oppressive heat-funk back into the hell from which it spewed forth.
This post is only the beginning. Can-Smashing Robot will now have an all-weather format. Nothing is more interesting than weather. What's it like outside? That's the most interesting question that's ever been asked.