The dude on Channel 8 keeps babbling some nonsense about needing however many days over whatever temperature to be truly classified as a "heat wave." I think the dude is on glue, even if he might have me on actual scientific knowledge and expertise when it comes to meteorology, otherwise knows as the science of predicting the weather and being right a few times a month.I don't need to know the exact temperature to know that it has been so hot, merely sitting outside for ten minutes causes me to sweat enough to drop, say, twenty pounds, and I don't need to consult the calendar to understand that it's been going on for quite a while now. Maybe I'm just too stupid to be able to differentiate between "heat wave" and "it's July, you freaking moron. It's summertime. It's supposed to be hot."

Regardless, whether the ambient outdoor temperatures have maintained Africa-like levels for a time sufficient to qualify as an officially registered "heat wave" by the Society for the Creation of Weather Terms, Phrases and Statistics, I maintain that it has been quite hot. So, if I'm not allowed to use the phrase "heat wave" without facing the wrath of the weather geeks, and possible fines and imprisonment for the unauthorized use of vague terminology, I guess I'll give it my own name. From this day forward, I will call extended periods of time when staying out of the pool can lead to being as wet as actually jumping in (my preference is to go all in with a full-twisting two and one half) "an Extreme Warmness Roll."

You've got to include the word "extreme" whenever possible, because all the cool kids, or at least the nerds in charge of marketing to the cool kids, know that anything is ten times cooler if the word extreme, or it's shorter cousin "X", is placed in front. Skateboarding? Kind of cool, but make it part of the X-Games, and it is just way cool. Slap "extreme" in front of "bananas", and as soon as the too-hip younger crowd start calling them "X-Bans", you knock Doritos right off the munchie map.

Sorry, this was supposed to all be about hot, not cool. Last week, during the midst of this current extreme warmness roll, I volunteered to referee a mini-tournament in the Solanco Wrestling room. The temperature outside was about 94-degrees. The temperature inside the room was "third ring of Hell". Someone mentioned that I might call a kid for stalling. Are you kidding? Here's a kid willing to spend a mid-summer evening in a 9,000-degree wrestling room trying to get in some mat time. He ain't stalling. The kid sitting on his butt, air conditioner blaring, while playing "Grand Theft Auto" is stalling. Heck, I wasn't even wrestling, and I had to take hydration breaks and towel off pretty much after every period. Then again, I'm old and fat.

But when it comes right down to it, you'll never hear me actually complain that it is too hot out. It really doesn't bother me at all. I love spending time in the pool with my kids, and the saddest day of the year is the day that we close down the pool for the year. I don't mind playing softball in the heat of the summer. Sure you get a little sweaty, big deal. It sure beats wearing five layers of sweats and playing in the fall, shivering your butt off and hoping you can still feel your fingers by the end.

Bill Rudick's feels heat is uncomfortable, but cold hurts. His email is

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