Or your dying livestock, or your failing crops, or your stricken relatives...
The odious Rush Limbaugh claimed that the heat index is a government plot by Al Gore to spread fear of global warming. Of course, intelligent human beings know that the heat index combines the temperature with the relative humidity because humans cope with excess heat by perspiring- the body cools down through the process of evaporative cooling. The more humid the air, the less evaporation takes place, so the less effective evaporative cooling is. Even the bone-stupid know that a "dry heat" (insert Aliens quote) is more bearable than a humid heat (as long as one has adequate hydration). I don't think Rush is an intelligent man- he succeeds by being marginally smarter than his dumbass listeners and by knowing how to play to their prejudices and spite.
Of course, the fact that the guy probably never goes outside, and lurches from air-conditioned home to air-conditioned limo to air-conditioned studio, allows him to pooh pooh the notion of the "heat index" that all those pointy-headed science guys and sociamalists and faggy-fag-fags prattle on about. I honestly don't know what to make of anyone who still listens to Limbaugh's stupid, patently dishonest bullshit in the face of such an obvious refutation by the planet itself.
It's hot here in the Northeast (100 degrees Fahrenheit, feels like 111, here in the City of Y______), but it's got nothing on the heat in the Heartland. The temperatures here are mitigated somewhat by the proximity of the Atlantic Ocean. I'm lucky, I'm scheduled to work the graveyard shift for the next couple of days, so I won't have to deal with the dangerous daytime temperatures. I feel sorry for those who are working outside in this dangerous heat.
NOTE: I composed this entry in the early afternoon, but set it up for publishing in the early evening, when I hope to be doing a bit of the snoozation.
UPDATE: When L.A.'s most lovable curmudgeon writes a comment like this:
Temperate here, which is not standard for this time of year, 'though our big heats are usually in Aug. & Sept.
I have to scratch my glabrous pate and say to myself, "L.A.? Big Heat? Ah, yes, Stan Ridgway!"