Hells yeah, it's summer rain!

In somewhat of an anti-climax, the first day of summer solstice here has been hit with nature's version of a Super Soaker 50.

No, I said... No, not the Oozinator! No! Yuck! Gross!

What I'm saying is, clouds are angry today. Like, stop Yankees-Reds games angry, and I have never been that angry, especially in Yankees-Reds-related ways. It's enough to put a damper on your ridiculously optimistic summer mood. What to do in times of self-doubt? Answer: The B-52's, duh.

You dance in the garden in torn sheets in the rain, and if you happen to piss off a few Normals on the way, all the better! I feel like getting Michael Stipe to do this with me would be deceptively simple.