It’s parallaxed to hell, anyway. (Via Shutterstock)

August is a month. Get over it. August is one of 12 subdivisions of the calendar, though it reserves for itself especial damnation.

August is between July and September. It has 31 days, most of them hot.

August, it turns out, is a thing.

August is for over-thinking August. Every four years, August is the turgid cesspool of presidential politics, long past the boiling point for character assassinations but well ahead of the precipice of substantive policy debate. What?

August is when we have the Summer Olympics. Again, every four years. Except when they happen in September. Or July.

August is for digestions. Digesting beach books. Digesting lobster rolls. Digesting apples that were picked too early and asparagus that was harvested too late.

Digest. Digest. Digest. I’m hungry.

The other 11 months are for digestion, also. It’s an essential bodily function. Without digestion, we would likely die from internal rot.

August is for weirdo free-verse poetry presented as narrative reporting. August is for trapezoids of iniquity, circles of indemnity, rhombi of indignity.

August is inevitable. August is for saying “It’s hot.” July is for saying “It’s hot.” As in the second-hottest July on record. Your move, August 2012.

August is when all the truly shitty movies come out. Not the stupid romantic comedies that fill the multiplexes in the discontented winters of January and February, but the real crap. August is for a Total Recall remake that no one wanted. August is a Meryl Streep rom-com; February is for Katherine Heigl. August is some Will Ferrell vehicle, a junket for which I blew off last night.

If you’re a kid on summer vacation, August is when you grow weary of fun and yearn to return to the classroom.

If you’re a parent, August is when you start hating your kids and think of ways to ruin those last strains of summer vacation.

If you’re a website editor with a pageview quota, August is when you truly lose your mind. It is only August 1.

August is an adjective, meaning respected, impressive or stately. Augustus was the founder of the Roman Empire and one of Western civilizations first great tyrants. Augustus Gloop is that fat-ass who got stuck in the chocolate tubes.

August is for schvitzing. The biggest schvitz you’ve ever schvitzed. Schvitzmageddon, even.

August is when the NFL prepares for the upcoming season. We—well, not me—agonize over the brewing fortune and foundering of the “Washington” Redskins. Whither the Nationals, or shall they endure?

What is August like in the western wilderness of Tasmania? Tomorrow’s forecasted high in Strahan, a port town of 637 residents, is a balmy 52 degrees. I don’t know if it’s green and winter, but it’s on the ocean, so it’s probably wet.

August is when the moon is grinning. August is when the sun is farting.

August is an estival junk-punch.