I have not seen conditions such as these in all my born days. And I am quite long-toothed. No spring chicken. Born way past yesterday. The ground is baking, and somebody did not read the recipe. Nobody is going to want a piece of this.
Genius has been robbed of at least $200 in lawn-mowing money this month. Because there is no lawn mowing when there is no lawn growing. While I have a teeny-tiny bit of sympathy for Genius, I have much more for those people who depend on the sale of fireworks each summer for a significant chunk of their income. Nobody is buying. Fireworks cannot be set off in these conditions. And who wants to browse under a heat-holding tent to spend money on incendiary bombs that cannot be detonated? Those pitiful cash-register tenders have my condolences. Especially those set up on blacktop parking lots. Or the ones working out of semi trailers.
How HOT is it?
*Hotter than a two-dollar pistol, according to George "No Show" Jones
*Hotter than a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout, according to Johnny and June Carter Cash
*Hotter than a hoochie coochie, according to Alan Jackson
*Hotter than Mojave in My Heart, according to Iris DeMent
How DRY is it?
*Drier than a Survivor contestant's mouth before the tribe gets fire.
*Drier than a counter wiped by Madge, aka Rhoda Morgenstern's mom, with Bounty, the quicker picker-upper.
*Drier than a joke by Steven Wright. Such as: "Anyone who believes in telekinesis...raise my hand."
*Drier than the unmoisturized elbow of a snake crawling across the Bonneville Salt Flats.