My friend Dale, of whom I’ve written before, sent me the following text. [Context: Dale is in NYC. He recently moved into a new apartment. He was one day away from the installation of his air conditioning. He also loves Weezer, but that isn't germane to the subject at hand.]
The flashlight is a metaphor
I felt for the man. I did. It sucks to be hot. Sticky, gross, too hot to sleep. As I am his elder, and mentor, I gave him what wisdom I had.
Mighty Dale Survived
I DON’T LIKE FUCKING WEEZER!!!!!!!! I FUCKING LOVE WEEZER!!!!!
The internet thinks you do. Ten million years from now, all that will be known of the ninth king of new new york will be that he liked hockey, and weezer.