It’s back. We’re back, I mean. The annual migration of late teens and twenty-somethings from parents’ basements into overpriced, college-accessible housing has reached its peak. The D.I. is crowded on Wednesdays again, and the bookstore staff are cashing their fat, fat paychecks, with a lack of shame rivaled only by Disney and Lucifer himself.
You hear a lot about the need to support local businesses lately, but rarely do you hear about those unsung heroes of local business: Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is as local as it gets. No matter your locale, bam, there’s a Wal-Mart. Orem, Lindon, American Fork, Saratoga Springs, even the cross-eyed illiterates in my hometown of Payson have one (it’s right next to the corpse of the ill-fated Starbucks.
The house of representatives passed the climate change bill last week, and I am very upset about it. Come on, people, this passes now? Now is not the time to start caring about the environment. It’s already over. We’re screwed. The end is extremely nigh. Just try to stay gluttonous, while the gluttony’s good, that’s what I say.
It’s the Fourth of July again, and before passing out during the family volleyball game due to a mixture of heat exhaustion, beef ingestion and those seventeen mai tais that seemed like such a good idea, we thought we’d bring you a fearsome foursome of Top Fours.
