pipe down, mr. evil weatherman

Pssssst... Al Gore is secretly an evil weatherman. Pass it on.

I am kidding, of course. He is not evil. Especially now that he has forgone the facial hair.

But given that he's earned his place amidst the more hysterical frontmen of the global warming alarm and makes scary movies about the earth becoming perilously hotter by the nanosecond, I am hereby blaming the ghastly and record~setting 112 degree weather we were blessed with this weekend squarely on our Mr. Gore.

Yes, I understand that it is ridiculous to lay blame for a naturally occuring cyclical weather pattern on someone who is not plausibly culpable. But it is also ridiculous to be coping with 85 degrees of muggy humidity at midnight when one is not located on a subtropical island, or to have to peel your clothes from you simply to get up from a chair, or to awaken at 5:30 a.m. in order to water your plants at the only time of day when you don't risk a heat stroke. Given that I could fry an egg on my sunglasses as I left church this morning, it feels good to have a ready-made scapegoat for all this blazing hot suffering, doesn't it? And since the unrelenting sun started chanting Na-Na-Na-Na-Na-Na while cranking up the heat to the highest decibels on record, I have found myself just the slightest bit grouchy. Blame tends to compliment grouchy, especially when served with an extra large side order of perspiration. So come, let's embrace the scapegoating. Since old Al's been yacking about global warming publicly, the thermometer has skyrocketed around here. Coincidence?? Or shades of 'Field of Dreams': "If Al says it is getting hotter.... it will get hotter"?

If the latter is the case, I have a suggestion for our former Vice President: you might wanna quit making doomsday movies about the worsening wicked hot climate, dude. Because the weather seems to be listening. Or - even better - why not use your apparent powers for good and not evil? Make a film about the sudden rampant proliferation of world peace and see what happens.

As for me, I am sticking to my story (however tongue-in-cheek) that this unrepentant blast of hot air that seems to have stranded itself over us lately is

big.
fat.
his.
fault.

All 112 smoking degrees of it.

Doggone that Al Gore.