By the way: Damn.

It is ungodly hot here today. It's so hot that the local weather guy couldn’t even joke about it anymore. He usually calls it a "barn-burner" or a "scorcher" which just makes me choking mad. Because as soon as you label a day like that, it will feel ten degrees worse for the rest of the day.

It's like a "heat-index." Most of us live indoors now. Most of us live, work and travel inside a little Habitrail. You live in your house, you walk to your car in the garage, you drive to the parking garage at work, you hop out and into a skywalk to your building, you plop down at your desk. You never really went outside. You don't really need a heat-index. A heat-index is much like saying "You weigh 135, but you feel like you weigh 205."

Who has a practical use for a heat-index? Ok, maybe construction workers. But come on. They have it down to an art. It's simple enough to remember: South equals hot.

So, all you can do on the hottest day of the year is joke all the way to work about it. While Ron impressively broke out the words "plasma" and “perihelion”, all I could come up with was “Solid. Liquid. Gas. Memphis.”

Which I think is almost as funny as my tagline for a pancreas: "Pancreas: It's what makes dogfood brown."