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Summer is an unpleasant month for a great many more reasons than simply that of a flaming ball of gas that provides power to millions of calculators everywhere. Consider the children. I know, it brings a terrible constricting of the lungs and unpleasant memories of screams and fits in super markets and movie theatres, but consider them for just a moment. In this season of their freedom the roam streets free of the shackles school would put on them. These beasts, normally tamed by homework, tests, after school programs and other things that keep them out of our hair can now graze in the fields unafraid of adults looking upon them and demanding them back to their studies. They crowd malls and game stores wasting too much time and too little money. They buy candy and get hopped up on soda while their parents are too busy earning a living to monitor them. It is this season that brings them, the plague of smiling faced, snotty nosed locusts, upon us. Yet we remain, broken and powerless, with no recourse but to simply tolerate them save go to jail for taking a cheese grater to one of their pug nosed little faces.

Summer also carries with it another pest in the form of insects. Mosquitoes, never claiming to be man’s best friend, are strongest in the summer. Much like the children of Krypton they draw power from our yellow star to draw blood from our sticky skin. We do battle with tape and glowing, painful lights but to no avail. The insects, were this world a more hospitable place to them, would easily overrun us if not simply by causing too much itching and forcing us to huddle under repellent candles and netting. Bugs are icky, therefore summer is icky.

I will close on the greatest evil of summer; the shirtless male. No, ladies, not the men that are well built, but the men like me. Forced out of our clothes due to heat, exposing bloated stomachs filled with Cheetohs and Soda, we roam about dripping sweat gently down our lumpy forms. Roll lines creasing and causing odd tans that appear to be muscles from a distance but become something much less desirable up close. No Slurpee can squelch the heat that oppresses us due to our lays of winter fat that collect in front of a screen with Halo on it. We, the eyesores, exposed to the nature that we reject, pain even our own kind to look upon.

On the plus side, women wear skimpier things which mean more images of side-boob.