Summer is serious business. Its questions are timeless: Whatever happened to Frozfruit? Will the song of the summer be “Juice,” “Sucker” or “Old Town Road”? Where have all the kittens gone?
Marsala means mushrooms. Marsala means wine. Marsala means marvelosity of major proportions.
Oh youze guyze… …it’s here… …it’s back…
We came. We marched fourth. We marched thirty-first, even. And now, we shall April.