More Of My Lousy Stand Up

It’s late August. You know how I can tell? People are starting to lose their minds about pumpkin spice lattes. Like bald eagles in heat they screech: “PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES ARE COMING! PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES!”

At some point in the past five years this artificial coffee flavoring surpassed Thanksgiving and the leaves changing as the apex of the Fall season. The wonder of nature? The warmth of your family? Fuck that shit, we can make hot liquid taste like a gourd!

But I kid the industrial beverage complex and its tight stranglehold on our emotions. Living in Florida I of course welcome the arrival of PSLs, as they provide the only concrete evidence that the season is actually changing. It’s a blistering ninety-five degrees here year round. Oh sure, for a couple days in February it pretends to be cold, but generally there’s nothing in FL to counter the belief that pool season is eternal.

That can really gum up your melon, the endless summer. How can it be Columbus Day? I’m still wearing shorts and flip flops and this Orlando Magic jersey from 1996. Thankfully, the pumpkin spice latte sends important signals to my brain, saying, “Christmas is coming. You’re gonna be broke again!”

This is a good place to note that Pumpkin Spice Latte would be the perfect name for a celebrity baby. Pumpkin Spice Latte Kardashian. Pumpkin Spice Latte Theron. Pumpkin Spice Latte Ciccone Penn Ritchie Kabbalah.

How’m I doin’ on time? I can stretch this out for another five minutes.

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