I know it's unseasonably warm right now, but let's face it, pretty soon it'll (probably) be too cold to contemplate doing much of anything. What's that? Wear this unwashed flannel and eat hot garbage meals exclusively for the next five months? You don't have to twist my arm.
So here, in one last epic stand against the impending winter gloom, is a glorious slow-mo meditation on the art of the backyard pool belly flop. We've all done it, because sometimes the best things in life just hurt so good. It's a hazy mix—equal parts Graduate and Boogie Nights submersion—only with a keen sense of nostalgia for something that isn't even completely gone yet.