HALF HEAT

A friend posted a picture of his feet resting in a bucket of water to cool off while smoking a cigar. Where he was, it had crossed into supratropical. So I commented: "At the moment it's sixteen degrees Celsius in SF. You are in Fresno?" He's fifteen hours flight time away. The Netherlands. I shall not judge the appearance of his pink pink PINK toesie-woesies.

Yesterday evening I stepped out for a pipe there was fog at both ends of the block.
Visible vapour gently billowing under the street lights.
It was very pleasant.

Dang, those were some frighteningly pink toesie-woesies!

I have not actually looked to see how mine compare. Technically my friend and I are the same ethnic and folkloristic derivation, though my ancestry has some Scot and American Indian in the distant woodwork, as my folks have been here for many generations. But when nobody is watching we occasionally put on our heavy wooden clogs and windmill dresses and dance under the moonlight to the bellowing of bullfrogs, the music of the night.

We are still devoted to our eternal plot to take over the entire world for the united company and its seventeen lords. As well as team orange eventually winning the world cup.

Undoubtedly my friend is on exactly the same page.
Despite his aching toesie-woesies.

Anyhow, the point is that we are very phlegmatic people quite unused to the extraordinary heat that the Anglos and their global warming behaviour have cursed us with. This is quite unheard of. And horribly unfair. Why, Fresno is now entirely off-limits. So is Modesto. Sacramento is only a little bit better, but still absolutely ghastly.
Which nixes our plans entirely.

And yeah, those wildfires in Southern California, Spain, France, and Greece?

I don't think we'll be invading there anytime soon.

I guess you're all off the hook.


The weather outside this morning is quite bearable, and it looks like it will be very pleasant for the next six or seven days. Unfortunately this means that the foreign visitors and tourists from the rest of the country will enjoy their stay, and may tell their friends back home to visit San Francisco in the summer. Which I don't want, good heavens. The number of pink pink PINK people wandering into the bakery yesterday to look at the lovely pastries and ask meaningful questions that couldn't be answered was ginormous.
Had to wade through them.

Like hacking through the tall grasses with a machete. A flame thrower would have been useful. I'm thinking of wearing dark sackcloth and a pointy bird-beak mask, wailing "the plague, the plague" wherever I leave the house these days.

I didn't want to go to Fresno anywhow.
It's a horrible place.



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