Today I sent even more kids to camp. That's nice. I always like to do my share for the children of the world. There's so much pain and suffering out there. I know I don't much enjoy being around the little urchins myself, but they deserve to have fun and they were meant to frolic.
But even more importantly, it gets them off the street.
I hate summer. Everyone's up to no good. Children are out riding their bikes through busy intersections at midnight as if they don't have a care in the world. And why should they? They don't have to get up for school the next morning. It's summer.
There's those damned tourists flocking to Maine so that they can flood the highway, deplete our gift shops and eat some lobstah. Who the hell says "lobstah"? I've lived in Maine my whole life, and I don't talk like that.
I want it to be fall already. When you get to be my age, it's not like there's any real difference between the summer and winter anyway. In the winter, you have snow. In the summer, you have construction. Either way, you can barely make it out of your driveway in the morning.
I want it to be fall so that the kids will be in school and I can feel righteous anger when I see them in the food court at 11:00 in the a.m, as if I caught them doing something illegal. It really cramps my style seeing them wandering the mall at all hours, as if to rub it in my face that they have nothing better to do than waste precious hours of their lives roaming the halls of Corporate America. As if they're saying to me, "Why are you so ticked off? It's suuuuuuummmmmmmer."
So yeah, you want to know if I'll donate a dollar to send more kids to camp? Darn right I will. Send them all to camp. I hope they're forced to play lots and lots of archery---the most useless sport in the world---and make bird feeders out of popsicle sticks. And I hope when they go home, the birds all shun their feeders. I hope the birds all say, "What the hell is this? You expect me to eat my food out of this?"
And I hope they cry.
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