It Is Not Fall — and You Shouldn’t Want It to Be

Autumnal trees in Berlin, Germany, October 11, 2018. (Fabrizio Bensch/Reuters)
Summer is not over; that is a fact.

Ever since Labor Day weekend ended, I’ve seen social media become increasingly flooded with idiotic posts about things like pumpkins, Halloween, and sweaters.

It’s become both obnoxious and overwhelming. I’m not sure who fall hired as her publicist this year, but based on how much I’m seeing her plastered everywhere, I am thinking it can only be Kris Jenner.

Someone sane has to do something to take this on, so I have made it my mission to issue the following PSA:

It. Is. Not. Fall.

Please understand the fact — yes, fact — that this is actually not up for debate. It is not not fall because I don’t want it to be (I don’t — more on that later), it is not fall because it is not f***ing September 23rd yet. Let me say it again, in case you missed it: Fall Does Not Start Until September 23rd. Don’t believe me? Google “When does fall start?” and you will see that I am correct. Too much work for your glove wearing, pumpkin-spice-latte holding fingers? Click this link. (If that is too much work for you, then you should probably stop reading this and go knock on doors for Bernie Sanders.)

Now that we have established that it is, in fact, not fall, I am going to explain to you why it is also wrong for you to want it to be fall. Before I explain why, let me just clarify that if you live somewhere where it is hot year-round, like Arizona, this post does not apply to you. I can totally understand why people in Arizona would be excited for it to stop being 115 degrees (or however hot it is in Arizona in the summer or whatever) and have it be like 80 degrees (or however hot it is in Arizona in the winter or whatever. I’m not a meteorologist).

If you live somewhere with cold winters, however, please understand that it is objectively stupid of you to be excited about fall. Let me be clear: For us, celebrating the start of fall is like celebrating that end stage of a terminal illness where you won’t be functional long before it kills you. It means that winter is coming soon. Cold, soul-crushing winter. Months (which can easily feel more like eons than months) of nothing but wind, snow, rain, and rapidly spreading influenza. And you’re excited because you can drink a coffee that tastes like a gourd? Grow up.

Fall means that all of the Joy of Summer is officially over, and all of those hack fall activities that people seem to pretend to enjoy to make themselves feel better begin. People go to apple orchards to pick fruit surrounded by loud, snot-and-caramel-covered toddlers. Couples post pictures from those orchards in flannel shirts, smiling with arms around each other as if everyone who sees them doesn’t know that the gal in the picture made the guy pose for it, that he is miserable, and that she’s only posting because she has noticed that Jessica has been liking too many of his pictures lately and she needs to mark her territory if she ever has any hope of him proposing to her in front of the Eiffel Tower on a Paris vacation. People actually have the nerve to ask me if I want to go to a haunted house. Why would I want to go to a place where I have to pay my money for creepy strangers to be able to harass me without legal repercussions?

Oh, and don’t even get me started on football. Football is, honestly, so objectively bad that I have always been convinced that the only reason it is so “popular” is some kind of mass conspiracy. Everyone who “likes” it is just pretending to like it because they see other people “liking” it, and now we are all forced to endure it. I mean, what is there about it that anyone could actually like? It’s like 10 percent action, 90 percent people walking around spitting. How could anyone watch that and find it entertaining? Have you never seen something actually good, like Teen Mom or Toddlers and Tiaras? Television that is good on its own, that you don’t have to try and make interesting by betting your kid’s college fund away so you have something to do on Sunday afternoons? Again I say: Grow up.

Summer is not over; that is a fact. We still have a few days left, and we should embrace them. We will have plenty of time to post pumpkin-spice-flavored calorie-bombs on Instagram while we wait for the Certain Death That Is Winter. We will have plenty of time to curse the birth of Susan from HR when she starts to play Christmas music (which is, of course, also Objectively Bad) the day after Halloween. There is a season for that, but it’s not here yet — so let’s all just hold on to the only good season for a few more days, while we still can.


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