Summer’s Over, Dude, It’s Time for Pants

We all know you’re freezing.

To: Jack LayBack Tilsdale

From: Ryan A. O’Donahue II

Subject: Real Talk

Hey Jack,

It’s Ryan. I’m writing on behalf of numerous friends and family, and we speak from the heart when we say that it’s time to put on some pants. Have you looked outside? There’s frost on the cars here in Columbus. Fall leaves have fallen. We dig your dedication to summer vibes and summer jams. No one loves sand volleyball and a barbecue more than you. It’s part of your charm, but this hypothermic weather makes us worry about your health. Also, your appearance. You’re a forty-three year old father of two dressed in Billabong tees, board shorts and Rainbow sandals, and squirrels are scrambling past you gathering nuts. It’s time to add “Respect” to your summer Spotify playlist, because if you can’t take yourself seriously, who can?

Listen, I’m not trying to be a buzzkill. You’re my bro. We’ve been tight since sixth grade, but I have to harsh your mellow and say what no one else will: you look like a tool. We all know you want it to still be July. And May and June and August. But the earth’s axis squeezed summer right out of the northern hemisphere, which is where you live, despite your forwarding address in Fantasyland.