Praise sweet Jesus. It is autumn. Thank God. Fall is here. It's hit LA at last. The evil

dragon of summer has been blown back into oblivion. No more hot, sweaty days, dripping

sweat onto my dog. No more assholes and shorts with 7,000 pockets forcing me to witness

the horror of their hairy calves. No more awful. Hammer like blows to the brain from

the Satanic summer sun. No more beach invitations. I didn't get any beach invitations this summer,

but I wouldn't have gone. I'm not a summer man. I'm not a summer person. Haven't been

for a long time. I only liked summer because it got me out of school. That was the only

reason I liked it. Nobody in their right mind can really enjoy a hot summer. Not in reality.

There's the Romantic version of the summer, which is that you go down to the beach and paddle

around watching the seagulls rise up into the sky, floating around on a raft, swimming around in

a pool. But the real version of the summer is you just try to escape from the heat, depending on

where you live. Maybe if you live in some temperate place, it's okay. But if you live in a place like

Los Angeles or Texas or any place beset by the horrors of global warming, then you scuttle

like a cockroach out of the light and into your house. And not everybody has central air conditioning.

I have a little portable air conditioner that I would push into a room because I live in an

old house and it would just turn into a kiln where you're just constantly sweating and the air

conditioner is barely beating back the heat. I know it's not cool to not like an entire season,

but I don't. I don't like having to wear short sleeves. I want the option to wear long sleeves.

I like wearing sweaters and I like that. I don't want to have to be forced to throw on some

dumb short sleeves shirt and then go waddling out into the heat like a pig climbing out of his

pig chamber, whatever pig sleeping. His pig hollow,

staring at keyboards, watching sweat drip down like salty rain because it's so hot in your house

...