This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on July 10, 2007 3:47 PM. The previous post in this blog was About time. The next post in this blog is Cool with it. Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

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Tuesday, July 10, 2007

How hot is it?

It's so hot in Northeast Portland right now, I just saw a squirrel rubbing sunblock on his nuts.

Comments (11)

It's so hot in Beaverton, I just saw a local sacrificing fuel economy by cranking up the A/C in their Hybrid.

It's so hot that they're popping popcorn inside the aerial tram.

The best parking place is determined by shade instead of distance.

It's so hot that Dan Saltzman's body temperature just hit 90 degrees.

Lars is on his knees asking for Al Gore.

My sister comes up from Coos Bay to visit me every summer. No matter whether she comes in June or September it's always the hottest day of the year. She arrives tomorrow.

Johnny Carson did this schtick, annually. One night, he turned to Doc Severinsen, an opening for Doc to solo a one-liner note, and asked, "Doc, have you ever seen it so hot?"

Doc lost it. His head tilted back slightly, his eyes gazed heavenward seeming to look backwards in time, his arms and posture went slack, he spoke slowly.

Yes, Johnny, yes, I have. When I was growing up in Prineville. We used to haul hay in the sun, in that desert, under the burning sun, on the back of the truck, the sun beating down, the hay bales so heavy ..., the sun ..., we'd start in the morning, by noon it would be over a hundred degrees, in the sun, the air full of chaff and dust ... [camera cuts back to show Johnny, not smirking, but anxious, worried eyes glancing at the wings ] ... dripping in sweat, the hot sun the dust sticking on your face, your arms, your clothes, the hayhooks too hot to touch, in that sun ... the bales just kept coming, sun ..., sun ..., so hot that|||

"Okay, enough, sounds pretty hot, thanks Doc," says Johnny.

And ya' know what? I was right there with Doc, staring back, same time, same place, same sweat. Nothing, nothing!, in all I've seen or been in, is so hot. However, I love it. I was born there in August in Furnace Flats. Nada problemo.

Or, as the Indians say, it's so hot that water don't run, it walks.

How hot is it? It's sooooo hot that George Bush has decided not to attend any military funerals.

It's so hot that visitors to Portland from Arizona are removing their sweaters.

It's so hot Greg Oden wants to play for the Winter Hawks.

It's so hot the traffic barriers in Keizer have gone limp.

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