This was the summer of blue toes, and also of the palest green.

This was the summer of things we wished would disappear the moment they surfaced: twerking, Carlos Danger, shower-stall selfies, the Filner Headlock.

This was so not a Phillies summer.

This was the summer of George Zimmerman, Trayvon Martin and stand your ground, but mostly Trayvon Martin, forever 17, shrouded in a gray hoodie.

This was the summer of Philadelphia building collapses, most tragically on Market.

This was a big gay wedding of a summer. Who knew our regional epicenter would be Norristown?

This was an insecure season for national security: spying, leaks, and Edward Snowden's search for asylum.

This was a Syrian summer. Also, a long one for Egypt.

This was the summer blockbusters combusted. Movies hardly mattered and created little buzz. The Great Gatsby wasn't. The Lone Ranger ho-hummed. After Earth plummeted. R. I. P. D.? D.O.A.

Instead, this was the summer mayors and mayoral candidates became bigger entertainment than the blockbusters that combusted. A great-grandmother accused the San Diego mayor of sexual harassment! New York hosted yet another cringeworthy Good Wife news conference!

This was the summer everyone became an armchair psychologist united in asking one paramount question: "Why is Huma Abedin still with Anthony Weiner?"

This was the summer Abedin was still with that man.

This was a big Jersey tomato of a summer. Chris Christie was seemingly everywhere, even his home state. His mouth was stronger than the storm. His will was large enough to force $25 million special U.S. Senate elections to avoid sharing a ballot with rock-star mayor and Twitterholic Cory Booker.

This was another horrible summer for the Philadelphia School District. Schools may have been closed for the season but the crisis never stopped.

This was the summer political pundits speculated about Christie and Hillary Clinton, Marco Rubio, and others. Sane people needed to remind themselves it was 2013, only months after Obama's second inauguration.

This was the summer Pope Francis went to South America and made more news on his return flight to Rome by asking, "If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has good will, who am I to judge?"

This was the summer of goodbye, Charlie, the final out of the Manuel era.

This was the summer that launched the Eagles' Chip Kelly era, and an end to more than a decade of inscrutable, monosyllabic mumblings.

By George, this was the summer of the longest, overreported, nonnews event of a royal pregnancy - or, as the satirical publication Private Eye put it, "Woman has baby."

Meaning this was the summer People magazine had to find someone else to put on the cover.

This was the summer to "Get Lucky," of "Blurred Lines," Daft, Thicke and ruled by Pharrell.

This was the summer of Wendy Davis' eleventh-hour, pink-sneakered filibuster of a restrictive Texas abortion bill. Weeks later, the bill passed into law.

This was the summer of the trial of Whitey Bulger, the ruthless Boston crime boss who made The Departed look like amateur hour.

This was the summer Jersey Jon Stewart decamped for the Middle East and Englishman John Oliver proved he could deliver Daily humor.

This continued to be the summer of the city school crisis.

This was the summer Rolling Stone created a fracas by putting the accused Boston Marathon bomber on the cover. Then people got over it and moved on to something else.

Which would bring us to Miley Cyrus, a foam finger, and the aforementioned twerking.

Contact Karen Heller at 215-854-2586, kheller@, or follow at @kheller on Twitter. Read the metro columnists' blog, "Blinq," at