It’s still raining in Los Angeles. Keeping the shades open all day, watching the clouds roll from the coast like dunes. The park smells like Seattle, impossibly green. Every street is cleaner than it’s been in a year, every reservoir full. Last week, there was downpour and hail followed by a hundred mile view. This week there’s steady on and off drizzle and five feet of new snow on the mountains.
For a few precious monsoon months — if you can manage to ignore the grumpy tourists — this actually is one of the best cities in America.
And according to a fundamentalist wizard-king working out of Alexandria, we can thank the fags.
Bless you, rainmaking queers. Is there nothing that your magical sense of good taste can’t accomplish?