The other day, I complained to a friend about the extreme cold, which had turned the northeastern United States into a bleak and desolate landscape of snow, ice, blustery winds, and frigid temperatures. His response was,
"What's this with cold? Just six months ago, you were whining to me about how hot it was. You said you were miserable, and couldn't wait for winter."
"He's right," I thought to myself. I do hate hot weather. I guess the question is, which one do I hate more? That's a tough one. Do I dislike dressing in five layers of clothing, shivering uncontrollably, and fighting off polar bears with an ice scraper, more than sweating profusely, removing drifting sand from my driveway, and getting trampled by nasty camels? I asked my wife for help deciding, since she knows how much I hate both cold and hot weather. She said,
"What would be worse; dying from exposure to freezing temperatures, or expiring from excessive heat?"
That's an easy answer; heat. I heard hypothermia is a relatively painless and peaceful death. You're very cold at first, but soon you become drowsy, curl up in a ball, and fall asleep. You know you're not going to die from dehydration. You’re walking through six feet of snow, for Heaven's sake! If you get thirsty, all you have to do is open your mouth. It also helps that you turn into a giant Popsicle. When rescuers find you, they load you right up on a sled, bring you back, and thaw you out. You may be dead, but you still look pretty good for the viewing.
I believe, meeting your maker under an unforgiving sun, in a vast and inhospitable desert wouldn't be very pleasant. Dehydration would take its toll, and you'd start having hallucinations of expensive bottled water, and the frozen foods section of supermarkets. Soon, buzzards would begin circling as you wandered aimlessly among towering cactus plants, poisonous scorpions, and deadly rattlesnakes. By late afternoon, your Banana Boat sunscreen would be used up, and you'd be dealing with the beginning of a nasty sunburn. If someone finds you within a few days, you resemble a giant raisin. If you're not found for months you become............."Bleached Bones!"
Did you ever see pictures of the bleached bones of longhorn cattle that died amid scorching desert heat? You'll see white skulls bleached by the sun, with the distinctive horns protruding from shifting sands as tumble weeds meander by. It's not a pretty sight. At you're funeral as you peacefully recline in your coffin, and mourners solemnly pass, you might hear these words,
"He looks just like he did in life. Yes, but he's a little thin, and soooo..... White. It's almost like he's been bleached or something."
The more I think about it, I realize I hate hot weather worse than cold. This past summer I saw a picture of the President. He looked very hot, as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief. He seemed to be thinking,
"Man, I hate this heat. I keep telling people about global warming, but they're not listening."
You know what's starting to scare me? Not so much global warming, but that the President of the United States; the leader of the most powerful country in the world is sweating his butt off. Isn’t he surrounded by dozens of secret service agents? Are you telling me that not one of them has a battery operated fan?
If I were the President, I would live in an air-conditioned enclosure like the Pope Mobile. If I ever had to leave it, I would have people with generator powered air conditioners strapped to their backs, following me every minute of the day. I might even move the White House to northern Maine. It's scary. If our President is sweating, what chance does someone like me have? I'm already halfway to becoming……….”Bleached Bones!”