SUMMERTIME

At The McHale Report we don't specialize in breaking news. Therefore, it won't come as a surprise to anyone that it is hot. To those who believe the myth that God worked for six days and then rested on the seventh--BULLSHIT!

Even though He resided in the Middle East, the Garden of Eden couldn't escape the insufferable conditions of the region's relentless high temperatures. He knew that his work wasn't done and returned to his shop on the eighth day where he invented air-conditioning.
Bears hibernate in the winter because they can't handle the cold. We hibernate during the summer because we can't handle the heat. We seek the cold. More accurately, we couldn't survive without cool houses and cool cars.
There is a silver lining. For once agreement exists between Democrats and Republicans. "It's hot," says a Democrat. "You're right," replies the Republican. "It's hot."
Estanislao Contreras, the controversial poet of Chicano Fuck Songs, and Jack O'Connell, the great unpublished novelist, found refuge in a 14th St. cantina during the day with frosty mugs of beer in their hands and a pair of Guatemalan chicas who hadn't been captured and raped by ICE psychopaths, but they feared their day was coming and we tipped them generously.
"Have you ever been with a chick that was as hot as our weather?" asked Contreras.
"Sure," answered O'Connell. "I remember one chick who was so hot that I could fry an egg on each cheek of her ass, which combined with my bacon made for a delicious late-morning breakfast."
"It doesn't get any better than that, does it?
"It doesn't get better, but it can get worse," continued O'Connell. "I was with this gal in the middle of July and we drove along the shore north on the Island. There was nobody around and we were horny. It was blazing hot, but we were hotter. She lay in the sand and I inserted myself in her. The sun was beating on my back. It took me a while to come and I could feel myself turning the color of a shrimp. I finally shot my wad. When I pulled myself off of her, I couldn't believe my eyes. She had melted into the sand!"
Fortunately, the gulf breezes start blowing in the late afternoon and nothing prevents us from sitting in our backyards and howling at the moon. It's a small compensation because no amount of screaming at the sun is going to do any good.

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