I am not Carl Thomas and San Francisco is not Jamaica, or Houston, or Savannah Georgia—that is to say, we are not prepared for Summer Rain. The fog rolls in when it wants to. The cold may surprise you when the sun goes down, but actual precipitation is damn near non-existent. The tourists don’t know any better. They go the beach anyway because it’s on their schedule. They have to take pictures at the Santa Cruz, Beach Boardwalk or else they’ll be judged harshly by their social media followers. The drab sky brings a heavy depressive energy to the natives. We feel stifled. If we could protest God over this debacle then many of us would. We demand our mediocre 75-degree summers back now! We don’t want any weather patterns that would cause us to engage in introspection or even worse, one that may facilitate a process by which we would arrive at individual accountability. We don’t want to have anything to do with it. We were created to look down and not inward. This simply will not suffice.