Did I mention it was hot?

"Oh please, do go on...wuss."

-the good people 

of Kuwait City

114º degrees. Can you believe it? A hundred and fourteen goddamn degrees. Of temperature. Hot, soul-crushing temperature. 114º. That's how hot it was when I was at Burning Man last week. It wasn't that bad everyday and sometimes it was quite pleasant, but there were a couple of days when we all pretty much wanted to die. As you've probably heard me mention before, frequently and often with little prompting, I'm from upstate New York and a quarter Canadian so constructing our janky, boozy Brigadoon on an dry, alkali lake bed during what I assume were some of the hottest days ever recorded on the Earth's surface wasn't the best.

When I left we were still taking about
that whole 'leaping to the defense of literal
Nazis' thing. Did that not go anywhere?

Yeah, that's why I haven't written in a while. I was in the cell-powerless, wifi-forsaken, barbarous dead zone of northern Nevada, disconnected from the hive mind for a week and I'm still adjusting. While slowly plugging back into the collective conciseness I'm both relived and horrified to find that I didn't miss much. There've been floods and fires and we've inched even closer to the brink of nuclear war, but for the most part I've returned to find things about as bad as when I left.

Also I missed the Game of Thrones finale so don't spoil anything. In fact, I think I'll just be staying in my house and off Facebook until I'm caught up.

They're cousins aren't they? They're cousins
and they're going to totally do it...

Including Midnight Poutine,
objectively the best camp.

But enough about that, let's get back to how I spent my summer vacation which I'm sure you're dying to pretend to care about...right? Huh, you know, you could just nod and go 'sure!' Anyway, Burning Man was, as ever, full of art and LED's and busses converted into rolling dance parties. The heat, as I mentioned, was unbearable, but hey, this it is a dessert so...and it did let up occasionally and we were able to roam about and gawk at art pieces and visit other camps. Apart from the constant threat of heat stroke, it was a pretty good year.

Oh and there was a brief and terrifying apocalyptic dust storm that rolled in at one point, but we all took the proper precautions.

Which is to say grabbing a beer
and going out for a closer look.

Above: a naked guy offering to spank passers
by at the camp across the street. I think.

Luckily for you, I didn't take a ton of pictures this year. How come? Well, I could go on about my surprisingly strong opinions about how we should all spend less time looking at life through our iPhone screens and more time being present and engaged in the world around us, but mostly it's just a pain in the ass to pull out my phone, switch it on, wait for it to focus and then snap a picture of something that's probably over with. Sometimes it's just better to enjoy the moment rather than trying to capture it. And besides, I'm terrible at taking pictures. Like, look at this shit (see left).

They also offer wine and foot rubs.

If you've never been, the thing that distinguishes the Burn from other, Coachella-ier events is that it's supposed to be participatory. You can just go and have a good time, but it's kind of keeping with the spirit to do something. Maybe you build a piece of art or play an instrument. Some camps offer things like workshops or seminars on things like solar energy or blow jobs. Some offer food. Some just have row after row of mutilated Barbies in a grim commentary on the treatment of women in American culture. The point is to bring something to the experience.

Pictured: our camp, seen here about
to be enveloped by an ominous cloud.

Our contribution for the last few years has been a pirate themed coffee bar. It's pretty easy and people appreciate it even though it's swelteringly hot. I mean, surface of Mercury hot. Have I mentioned the heat yet? The camp is called the Inappropirates because we're inappropriate pirates. See that? That's clever word play. Most people think that Burning Man is all drug-fueled orgies and dubstep but honestly it's mostly snark...well, drug-fueled snark. Look us up if you ever make it out there, we'll make you a cuppa.

Anyway, I'm back in the world now and you've got an entire year before you have to hear me talk about Burning Man again, so like, enjoy.

Pictured: a line of people flipping me off after I suggested
that maybe piping hot coffee wasn't the best start to a day
when the temperature promised to climb into the triple digits.