Getting back into the swing of things is no easy task when returning from the land unrealistic expectations and free everything. Paying for meals, driving cars on roads, sitting on chairs in cubicles - these things are rough trade for the very relaxed and threaten to pull away the waxy glaze-skin of vacation, exposing the tender, permeable flesh of the working stiff underneath. But hell, have to get back into it at some point, why not now - if for no other reason than to celebrate the magic of Memory, for this weekend is Memorial Day, an arbitrarily chosen Monday set aside each year in recognition of those who have served.
And what better way to recognize such service than to torpedo as much questionable meat into our faces and drink as much beer as our bellies will allow without tearing the flexible tissue that keeps the meat and beer in? Lobster bibs seem like a good idea. Kiddie pool? Why not. The weather has chipped up, and it's time to show some real appreciation to the gods of Good Times. For if we don't go boldly forth and do this, who will?
One thing, sadly, that this holiday is missing, and forgive me if I'm wrong but I think you will agree with me on this one fellas, is Fireworks. Get drunk, shoot off fireworks - it's the natural progression of things. Who needs thumbs anyway? And if we're being honest, at this point in the year there are some people who we kinda want to shoot fireworks at, anyway.
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