It’s hot.
Dang hot.
You know it. Your dog knows it. Your dog’s dog knows it.
We are smoldering in the mid- to upper 90s. It’s October; remember, fall has started.
Yes, hot is a hot topic and a hot-button issue, but cool it, gang. Forget the scientists for a minute and save your global warming emails. Let’s not argue over whether Greta Whoseherpants is a visionary or a pawn. What I really care about right now is finding some air conditioning.
Breaking temperature and heat index records as fall starts is as wacky as this: Walmart put out its Christmas goodies over the weekend.
Yes, Christmas decorations. In September.
I was just bemoaning the premature pumpkinination of everything from coffee to bagels to donuts to fast-food milkshakes. Now we already have Christmas decorations on the shelves?
Why do we undervalue Thanksgiving, which has become the Frances McDormand of holidays – it’s always excellent and it’s always better than you expect and remember? (Seriously, the next time Frances McDormund makes a movie that is worse than we expect will be the first. Same for Turkey Day.)
But it’s hard to think about consuming 12,000 calories in between football highlights, never mind Halloween candy or Christmas cakes, right now.
It’s July, ‘oh-my-is-the-public-pool-still-open’ hot.
Beyond the record-setting numbers, how hot is it really?
Well, my dad would call it “hotter than a $2 pistol,” but that feels dated, and if we’re not going to cover global warming, then the next-to-last hot-button issue I want to discuss today is the secondhand market for cheap firearms.
Sure, you can say something about “hot” and use a sexist reference to an attractive celebrity, but again, no thanks. And, considering the Mrs. reads this – yes, Pat, she may be the only one – well, here’s a belief that avoiding hot water is even more desirable than hot-button issues.
So, that got me thinking, how should we, in Chattanooga, describe the hot in today’s terms?
Hotter than Jeremy Pruitt’s chair?
Hotter than Jim Hammond when Daniel Wilkey’s name is mentioned?
Hotter than Jim Coppinger when Tim Boyd starts to filibuster?
Hotter than Rhonda Thurman when Kathy Lennon speaks and you can’t see Dr. Bryan Johnson’s lips move?
Hotter than got one ? Anyone? Bueller?
Maybe we can all agree that it’s so hot that Paul Barys almost shaved that beard.
Or maybe not.
Contact Jay Greeson at jgreeson@timesfreepress.com.
