Summer Field Day

“Man o’man, the dog days of August are upon us. Medium is a desert. The lulz is gone. The curators have abandoned the weird in favor of… I’m not sure what. I’ve been spending more time over at Gawker watching the drowning commenters gulp for air. What happened to this place?”

If you know anything about the workings of the Mill, this opening should have been taken up by my flunky, Fat Joe, who then would provide the transition to whatever far-fetched scheme I wanted to introduce. It didn’t work because Joe was asleep. My former flunky, Pee Wee, never slept. He sat on a milk crate and never even slouched. This guy…

“I’m not asleep,” said Joe.

“The snoring was?

“My mantra. I was meditating.”

“How close are you to breaking free of samsara?” I asked.

“Not that close,” he said, picking up his iPad. “Are the Olympics over? I fell asleep during marathon swimming.”

“They are”, I said. “We have to wake things up here on Medium. Doc Holliday is ready to give gift baskets to Gawker commenters if they sign-up for weekday shifts. How should we try to get Medium’s mojo back? Bad poetry? fan fiction? A listicle? Maybe photo funnies?”

Joe’s face brightened, and the sleep now dropped away from his meditating eyelids. “Why not all of them?” he asked.

I know many of you will accuse me of ageism, but having someone on Medicare voice memes to you is kind of annoying. He had a point. We can do all of them.

Bad Poetry

Orion’s dog is in the house
My skin puckers from tomato rash
The grass is dead
The sunflowers high
Oh, my, oh, my
August

Fan Fiction

Ryan Lochte, Michael Phelps, and Mark Spitz were smoking a bone before some kind of relay race.

Ryan Lochte turned to Mark Spitz and said, “Are you named after a dog breed?”

Mark Spitz replied, “Aren’t we here to talk about Gutbloom?”

“Fuck Gutbloom,” said Ryan Lochte. “That guy sucks.”

“You’re high,” said Phelps. “Gutbloom is the best. I read his Medium blog to get ready for races. It is the secret to my success. I learned about him from Allyson Felix, who is also a huge fan.”

Lochte just smiled and said, “I am high.”

Listicle

The Septemberfest “Field Day” is just around the corner. All of you will be invited. If you don’t know about parties here at the Mill, you have to go back and read this.

The idea of the Field Day is to somehow cash in on the Olympic Spirit by extending the consumerism and corruption while simultaneously professing syrupy “ideals” and thinly veiled jingoism. I figure the people most inspired by the Rio Olympics were middle aged women. I think many of my female contemporaries are recognizing that they were just a little bit late for the Title IX goodness. It dawned on them during these Olympics that they might been contenders if girl’s soccer had been a “thing” when they were in middle school.

With them in mind, all of the events at the Septemberfest “Field Day” are meant to attract my peers and let them enjoy one last gasp of competitive rigor before they start thinking about hip replacement surgery.

Knowing the demographic, all of these events go well with white wine.

Events for the Field Day

1. Petite Marathon: A 5K race, but the winner has to recite an Emily Dickenson poem at the finish line in order to win. Phidippides had to recite when he reached Athens. Shouldn’t modern marathoners have to say something?
2. Badminton: We had to have some event on the lawn where everyone gets to wear white. Chait will be happy.
3. Barrel Racing: The most female of sports. Women will pay to ride horses. This one will be money maker… like pony rides for adults.
4. Naked Water Polo: You have to consent before you get in the pool. Expected participation: 0%.
5. Acid Bocce with glo-balls. Old school LSD, freshly cut lawn, bocce balls, butterflies, Santana Abraxis, maybe some crying… don’t freak out. Here have a beer. Do you want a cigarette? Yes, keep your clothes on, but you can go swimming if you want.
6. Jog/Walk Dog Show: You have to jog/walk 3 miles with your dog. The good news is, the judges are judging the dog, not you.
7. Hurling. In an effort to promote the “Fastest game on grass” we will have a co-ed hurling tournament. I like how the referees in hurling wear lab coats.

8. Kill the Guy with the Piñata. Self-explanatory.

9. Ringolevio tournament. You are allowed to drink wine or beer while in jail. No puppy-guarding.

10. Boxing.

Photo Funnies

“I don’t think that worked,” said Joe.

“I’m sure it didn’t,” I said, “But they can’t say we didn’t try.”