Whoo-eee, it was hot today. ‘Sposed to hit the big 100 tomorrow. Damn.

Facts are stubborn things: We sweat real bad under the scrutiny of the sun. Man, we sweat hard, and in ugly places, relentlessly.

The world just wasn’t right. I saw a guy get off his bike today, and man, his ass was really sweaty. The heat drowned out any compassion I should have been feelin’. I saw a dog this afternoon, tongue hanging well pass his knees, and he was giving sideways* looks left and right. The concrete bakes. Small insects die in the sun. Things retreat for shade. Religious people were praying for cloudcover. Goo made his pants into shorts. Nakamoto took a “uncool” amount of loot off the honest, hard-working, red-blooded DDC in the CINCO dice wars. Chris Soli pumped some iron and checked out his muscles in a mirror. Josh Nelson refrained from “pretzel-ing on the couch” with the little lady while their favorite television program aired. Jay Floyd just plain “wouldn’t shut the fuck up” over a list of heat-related woes. Cameron Barrett had the sweatiest head in Northeast Portland. Matt Kass brokered some hairbrain deal with businessmen in a sweaty country oceans away. Naz pedaled a bike under the hot Chicago oven rays. Ryno developed a rash due to a saucy mix of pine tar and ass sweat. Kurt had to bust out his Diesel� “Right Said Fred” shorts. Evan Rose shaved his back to beat the heat. Pat Bridges refrained from any and all extra lighter flicks. Pinski wore black jeans and a black shirt. Dabica read a dictionary. Chris H�tz dropped the “�” from his name due to general discomfort. Andrew Jenkins built extra shade for his little girl. Eric Campbell gnawed a hole in a water tower and treated the neighborhood kids to some summer fun. Harry Bremer went by “H. Bremer” cuz “Harry” reminded fellow Swedes of all things hirsute. Dean Gross gave me a look that was a mixture of armageddon and locust plague. Lance Violette didn’t return any calls. Jared Eberhardt rowed a small raft down from Long Beach to the sandy shores of San Clemente. Michaylira read a book titled “Magazine Design For Shithogs.” Fred Green suffered all over town, in corduroy pants of all things. Jeff Baker found himself wondering, “Man, that sun is hot.” Zimmerman’s glasses were fogged from sunup to sundown. Jon Baugh swam the entire length of Lake Calhoun. Big S had me check his freon levels. Mike Kirkpatrick shook his head in Alaska and said, “Fuck the lower 48! This is God’s country up here.” Brad Sheuffele didn’t wear a COAL beanie at any point today, and started work on a “sun visor” prototype for the ‘07-‘08 season. Leonard ate a handful of high desert dust. Ben Munson went by “Ben Mun” due to “son” reminding CINCO brethren our sizzling orb. Kirk James kept a close eye on the CINCO air conditioning, and had a direct line installed to an “AirCon specialist” of SE Portland, if any problems arose. Porterfield changed his last name to “Porterocean.” 2946 NE 67th Ave reminded me that “shadeless windows” let in more heat. Zirgebel put all home improvements on hold and hung out with Mikey in the tub. Matt Cooley managed to walk to Powell’s where he promptly collaped in the philosophy section. Ben Cooley shaved his beard. PJ Chmiel took a swing at a coworker over a comment about how they “just loved the summer months…”. Dimmel threatened to “command-delete” a couple thousand CSA Printstock images referencing fire, heat, brimstone, flames, devils, woodstoves and matches. Chief Nusenow sat between two sweaty frequent flyers as he made his way back to Bro-Cal. Pross-air wore a sweater from his new line. Sherowski swore off all woman-to-man contact due to the scolding temperatures. Watt opted for a Polvo t-shirt in stead of flannel. Nemo Nick went pantless from the hours of 2 in the p.m. to 5:30 in the p.m. And finally, in a moment of ungodly agony, Jim Draplin drove his minivan off the northwest corner of Traverse City’s “Open Space” into the pristine waters of Grand Traverse Bay.

These things could very well happen again tomorrow, too so let’s fight to stay cool.

(*DDC RULE OF THUMB: Never trust a dog that looks at you sideways.)