it must be spring in the suburbs of los angeles - the ice cream trucks are out in full force.
most of them are being driven by the same kindly old men that've been driving them since i was in tee ball. it's nice to have something so static in a world that's constantly evolving. the same kindly old world war two vets trolling around for money from mom's pocketbook. some of them act as a conduit for mayhem, selling fun snaps and those explosive party poppers. their wake can be measured by the streamers and exploded bits of tissue paper on the asphalt that's too hot to be walked on barefoot.
i haven't made the mad dash outside for a chipwich just yet. if i do i'm going to patronize the new guy who's playing christmas music. there's just something about the irony of eating an ice cream sandwich in the dead of spring from a van that was playing "frosty the snowman" during your purchase.