Jokes

It’s been so hot lately that I finally understand Shrek on a spiritual level. Not the heroic journey, not the found family, not even the romance with Fiona. No — I understand the swamp. I understand why he lives there alone. He wasn’t hiding from the world. He was just a man who had accepted that his ass was going to be wet, and decided to lean in.

The swamp doesn’t judge you. The swamp is you.

Donkey shows up and Shrek is annoyed, but honestly? Donkey is lucky. You know what Shrek was doing before he got there? Sitting in a muddy pond at 11am on a Tuesday, completely at peace, because the swamp kept everything at a cool, consistent temperature. Donkey ruined a perfectly good spa day.

Meanwhile it’s June and I’m walking to my car and by the time I get there I’ve got full swamp conditions happening and zero swamp to show for it. No privacy. No mud bath. No magical talking animals who eventually become my best friend. Just cargo shorts and regret.

Shrek is not a villain. Shrek is not even an anti-hero. Shrek is a man who solved the swamp ass problem permanently and we treated him like a monster for it.

We were the monsters.

We were always the monsters.

(This post was written during a heat advisory. I’m fine. The swamp calls to me.)