Now that summer’s leaving us, you’ll probably go through your own private review in your head of how it all was. You can’t help but think, “Was it really all that it was cracked up to be? Was there a substantial amount of pretty girls at the beach? Was the water warm? Did the waves get above three feet? Did your local lifeguard unit get harrassed, or better yet, overthrown? Were the all-night parties harsh? You may ask yourself these questions during this somber and calm fall season. You may also wonder in this introspective time if it was worth the effort to get the dark tan and wear all the right clothes. When summer comes around again, will it be the same thing? Well, at least for those of us living in Southern California, this past summer was a bummer. Not to be pessimistic, but the waves were really flat, and the ocean produced this strange, foamy residue that rolled onto the beach and tasted funny. The only women I spotted were foreigners who didn’t shave thier armpits or legs. I’m serious¿these signs mark the end of the world as we know it, or at least the end of the West Coast of the United States. According to various scriptures and frantic televangelists, a giant earthquake, flood, or some shit will destroy us all. Well, then lay it on me, Lord, because the West Coast isn’t that great. But then again, maybe these depressing summertime features aren’t warning signs of an ending at all. Maybe the marshmellow foam water was just a byproduct of the usual local sewage managment, and the flat spells, are well, just flat spells. And for the foreigners¿you know, I guess we can cut ’em some slack because they’re just misinformed. (Ironically, “to shave” interpreted in French is Rasor, so maybe French people are confused.) Nonetheless, we have to realize that in Southern California summer’s still nice. It’ll always beat growing up in towns stricken with extreme boredom where the only excitement is pushing over live farm animals while they sleep, or something like that.¿J.M.