Post-Modern Drunk: It's Jacket Season, Mothafuckas!
It's jacket season at last, bitches. It's time to choose between the six great looking and stylish jackets hanging in your hall closet that are only comfortable in a narrow 20 degree band of weather that last for three weeks, tops. It's time to wear the shit out of them, girlfriend.

It's time to get out your cardigans.

It's time to shotgun pumpkin spice lattes. It's time for apple cider beer pong. It's time to inhale goddamn apple cider donuts until your breath is two parts cinnamon-sugar for every one part carbon dioxide.

It's decorative gourd season, motherfuckers..

It's fog and brisk breezes. It's the smell of woodsmoke. It's leaf-peeping until your eyes bleed ochre and gold. It's time to get lost in a corn maze, only to find your way out and drive to another corn maze.

Put away the sunblock and the beach umbrella. It's the autumn, bitches. Rake, or GTFO.

---

«« (back)				(forward) »»
the arch of history and the ship of theseus				on the greatest political satire of the 21st century

---