SUMMER'S END.

The Beach Boys used to be the soundtrack of summer in that part of the country that has seasons.  Californa, for a short time, seemed to be the land of endless summer, and hassle-less cruising.  Even before the first hippies showed up in San Francisco, though, the ominous signs were there.

[Time] chose to celebrate the Palisades High Class of 1965 as representing the youth of the future.  If you want the more perfect paradigm of being born on third base and thinking you'd hit a triple, that might be the place to look, and at that time, upscale southern California was still the Beach Boys' California, and the future looked bright.  Two years later came the Summer of Love, and that might have been California's first (of what would become many) E-T-T-S moment.  For that matter, the ten-year retrospective on the class of 1965 was kind of sad, actually, tales of opportunities lost.

It's since gotten so bad that Johnny Rotten gripes about Venice Beach being trashed and we don't think of hearts being left in San Francisco any more.  The Beach Boys have a new wish.

There are still a few county fairs to go to, and Oktoberfest season is in full swing.