Partly Cloudy, 64°
Reliable sources concur: It's on.
Garbage men this morning could smell in the air that it was on. Even through the garbage they could smell it. "It's a job," they wearily said, "but more importantly, it's on."
Meteorologists gestured at green walls and explained that it is not rainy, it is not cloudy and it is not even particularly cold today. What it is is on, according to meteorologists.
Patients listed symptoms nervously and said they thought it might be on, while doctors nodded solemnly; they'd have to run some tests, but yes, it might indeed be on.
Lawyers pointed their triumphant fingers at the stand as witnesses agreed that it, in some interpretations of the law, was on.
Academics acted ambivalently and asked audiences at symposia whether they thought it was on, but a tweedy gleam in their eyes betrayed that they already knew it was.
Advertising executives struggled to convince consumers that it was not butter, but on.
Politicians looked wistfully out over crowds and spoke of the future, of how it is not the time to fight our brothers and sisters, of how it is not self-serving vitriol that will save our country. Rather, they said, it is on.
Gamers kept thumbs poised on buttons and eyes locked to screens as they confirmed that it was on like Donkey Kong.
Calendars said it was Friday, and workers said it was about time. Pundits said it was all going to shit. Liberals said it was the conservatives and conservatives said it was the liberals. Environmentalists said it was unsustainable. Scientists said it was obvious! Grandmothers said it was a shame. Critics said it was an outright abomination. Doubters said it was no use, but they too had it all wrong.
It is not a bird or a plane or superman, as onlookers variously supposed.
It is what it is; that is, it's on. Oh, it's so on.
