I determined the other day that if Spring were a reasonably good looking human (and not that guy with the horse's butt that he is so often portrayed to be in Disney cartoons and ancient art work), I would totally marry him, and perhaps bear him many strapping children, provided that they also would not have horse's butts (because I imagine those things would be a real problem come labor time.)

This is not a decision I came to easily. In the past, spring has been my very least favorite season, because it featured Daylight Savings Time, which I view as an attempt of the nation's farmers to control our country by forcing everyone to get up at the crack of dawn with the urge to milk cows and harvest wheat. (Ask Mark Youngman-- I fear farmers.)

And plus, there was absolutely no benefit to having spring at all during high school, because you would have had to get up at the crack of dawn anyway, regardless of those nefarious farmers, and by the time school let out there wasn't anything left to do but do your homework, complain about your homework, and go to bed. At least, that's how I remember it. But, seeing as how I was the biggest dork ever in the history of mankind during high school, conditions may have varied for the rest of you.

But now that I'm in college, freed of my shackles of geekdom (which of course were immediately replaced with my shackles of Ric Flair, which probably equals geekdom in some way that I refuse to acknowledge), spring has taken on a new, sort of timeless, definitely rockin' quality that I really enjoy.

Only in spring can you shoot everything that moves with a high-powered squirt gun and get away with it-- by summer, everyone has gotten wise, or pissed off, or both, and has accumulated an arsenal to combat you with.

Only in spring does everything sound funnier if spoken with a French accent. It's a proven fact: try it! (FUN EXPERIMENT TIME! KIDDIES, YOU'LL NEED ADULT SUPERVISION!) The statement "give me back my pig, you filthy capitalist whore," probably spoken by a farmer who got up waaaay too early in the morning, is funny enough of its own. But when spoken with a French accent:

"Geeve me beck mah peeg, yoo feelthy capeetaleest HARE!"

BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAaaaaa! It's funny! Really, really funny! Try it! I'm not a psychopath! Really!

Only in spring will hordes of people come tromping around your floor on tour days just in time to see you looking like a soaked rat in a Winnie the Pooh bathrobe emerging from the shower, and the only thing you'll worry about is if you look fat.

Only in spring will you have the nerve to ask your night class professor if you can have class outside (given the fact that, thanks to daylight savings time, it will be light out until one a.m., this is a very feasible idea!)

And only in spring can you by Easter candy fifty percent off. Which to me makes the season right there.

So, to sum up: spring = good. Daylight savings time = the work of the devil. Theengs spohken weeth ah Franch accent = FUNNY!