I Have A Right To Complain: I Don’t Care If It Is Summertime; It Is Hot

July 19, 2013  |  

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Why do people always complain about the heat in the summer time?

Because it is got-damn hot as fish grease outside, that’s why. Duh!

Maybe it’s the heat but folks, who are complaining about other people complaining about the heat is really bothering the hell out of me. And yes, this will be a post complaining about the people, who are complaining about other people complaining about the heat but I’d rather be the person complaining about the people complaining about other people…than the actual person complaining about other people complaining…because those people seem to be painful unaware of the impact that the heat has on someone. And reminding someone that “it’s supposed to be hot, it’s summer outside,” just makes you a smarty-pants contrarian in need a good heat-related smackdown.

Despite the promise of a recovered economy, my pockets still remain very much slender. Therefore replacing the air conditioner, which most poetically went kaput right on the first day of the heatwave, is a luxury, which I simply can not bare. So on this fifth day of the heatwave, which is reigning it’s hot sticky terror over the 130 million people across the Northeast and Mid-West portions of the country, I have no choice but to sweat it all out – hair and clothing included. The bow-tie wearing weatherman says that the high will be 98 degrees today but judging how extreme it feels at only 6 in the morning, I’m pretty certain he forgot to carry the one. I live in the inner city, which means that there are no trees or other vegetation to absorb some of the direct rays from the sun. And as the heat bounces off the concrete sidewalks and asphalt streets, mixing in with the warm moisture-hell known more casually as humidity, I’m beginning to wonder if the lack of trees is all part of the government’s subtle plan of culling the population. Tempers are flaring everywhere and there is not a cool breeze in sight. Alleycats and stray dogs, are fighting over dangerous refuge under the shady wheels of parked cars and their equally bothered human counterparts seek sanctuary from each other, hoping to not be caught up in the 2.6 percent increase in violence, which seems to occur naturally during the excessive heat.

If this heat were a person, I would call Rev. Al Sharpton, Rev. Jesse Jackson and Farrakhan on him/her because they are oppressing me. Yes, I’m going to say it: this heat is worse than racism. In fact, I done changed my name to Toby a long time ago. I am freaking annoyed, irk and irritated. Yes I am aware those are all synonyms but the heat has turned brain into complete mush. It’s literally too hot to think. I feel like all the energy being exerted just trying to maintain my vital organs, as well as breathing, has left none for the brain to use to string together cohesive thoughts. And I have tried all the tricks to cool off; endless showers, wearing airy light color clothing; and when that didn’t work, walking around (the house) butt unclothed too the world. I even tried to eating spicy foods to raise the body temperature above the heat, a method, which I read about in some worldly magazine and is supposedly used by indigenous Mexicans for centuries. Nothing work and all the spicy food did was make me nauseous, gassy and sweat harder.

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