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.
9 comments:
I wish you could send some of that warmth my way. We barely reached seventy here in Oregon today.
My truck temp gauge showed 120 degrees when I got in this afternoon. Dropped down to 115 when I started moving a bit. Yes, I am officially in Dante's Inferno.
I haven't thought of the Ozark Mountain Daredevils in years. Chicken Train. If You Wanna Get to Heaven. They provided the soundtrack for at least a year of my life.
Hot as Val's keyboard as she's typing out a post...
Yep. It's a hot one. How about the Nelly song, "It's Getting Hot in Here?"
Madge WAS Rhoda's mom, wasn't she?? Thanks for that revelation. I'm with Sioux. No dry spells for you.
Yeah, I've had enough of this heat and drouth (as the Oklahomans said back in the day). My worry has kicked into overdrive...worried about the birds surviving the heat in the nestboxes, worried about my plants surviving the dry conditions and worried about working in this crap this week.
you know, I really think us Missouri bloggers should get together this summer. It could be our support group.
Stephen,
Careful, you're going to start a riot. Of course, it won't last long. We'll wither from the heat and dehydration before any damage can be done.
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Mrs.,
Dang! You got me beat. The highest mine went was 112.
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Sioux,
My very first concert ever was the OMD. Not that I can remember much about it...
I went to college in Springfield. This was their hometown concert, on our campus. They even recorded Satisfied Mind in the building where I hung out and had many of my classes. I think it's on the It's Alive album. You remember albums, don't you? Thought so.
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Donna,
How could I forget Nelly! Shame on me. Despite my country and classic rock leanings, I do have a Nelly CD. However, it's Country Grammar, and Hot in Herre was not until Nellyville. That's my excuse, and I'm stickin' to it.
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Tammy,
Yes, Ida was moonlighting as Madge. My hotness has been greatly exaggerated. I deal in quantity, not quality.
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Chick,
Maybe you can water the plants, wear Arab-style headgear to keep your brain from frying, and resign yourself to letting nature play Even Steven with the nest boxes. That part is out of your hands.
Let's make sure it's not an outdoor event.
So I guess what you're saying is that it IS hot enough for you.
P.S. Steven Wright is HILARIOUS. That is all.
Cathy C.,
Here's a little Steven Wright:
"If toast always lands butter-side down, and cats always land on their feet, what happen if you strap toast on the back of a cat and drop it? "
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