Time for spring cleaning all my bimbos and bambinos. Dust the couch lint out of your backside and prepare yourself for the return of the new energy dreadlocked park dwellers to the streets of our fine city. Disregard their spirited "jamming" on alternative rock relics that aged poorly and keep walking with your eyes averted and your nasal cavity pointed skywards. As we emerge from our dank winter basement caves to embrace the sun of another outdoor year upon this hurtling turd of a globe through the vast quiet confines of our galaxy, we are filled with a new zest for activity.
Delights of the 4 wheeled persuasion combined with the false hope of the fatman that another baseball season brings comingle and dance on the palette of the pleasure receptors to instill a general calm to quell the tempest of the cooped up mind. No longer imprisoned in the stifling dens of unsavory weather, we're free to do as we please.
Fling off your clothes and embalm your pale privates in the cancerous solar flares that bake your leather pants to a perfect crisp.
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