Sure is hot out there, ain’t it?

Weather experts call this a, “Heat Dome.” While the folks living in it are calling it, “Golly, gosh, gee willickers, jeepers! It sure is hot out there!” (Your vocabulary may vary in intensity and profanity. I know mine does.)

And speaking of naming the weather, I was kind of astonished that some writer hasn’t come up with a catchy name for this. You know, like that winter we had all that snow that writers called, “Snowmageddon,” and “Snowpocalypse,” and those going through it called it, “Golly, gosh, gee willickers! That sure is a lot of snow!” (Again, your words may have varied in intensity and profanity.)

I voiced my bafflement to Lovely Wife, who said, “You’re a writer. Why don’t you come up with something?” (Yeah, leave it to Lovely Wife to cavalierly toss sense into the situation.)

So here I sit, searching for a catchy name for our weather predicament, uh, challenge, uh, malaise. (As the writer flexed his literary biceps, the girls swooned.) (Seek help, Craig.)

Back to the task at hand, what we need is a snappy word that sticks in your head. Let’s see, about “Thermopalypse?” Nope. Sounds too much like a small town in Wyoming. Yes, there is a town in Wyoming called Thermopolis. In Greek, it literally means, “hot town.” (So named because of the geo-thermal features in the area, not for the exotic night life.) And there’s your Wyoming fact for the year. Some dubious entertainment and you learned something. Not a bad Sunday morning, if you ask me.

OK, if you hate “Thermopalypse,” how about, “Hotalypse?” (The head nurse at the Italian MASH unit.) (Again, Craig. Seek help …)

Well how about “Heatmageddon?” Really? Must we be so Biblical?

Fine! Let’s go all secular on this: “Hotsturbance,” “Heatsaster,” “Swelterlamity,” “Thermheaval,” “Feverclysm.” “Hotstruction,” “Thermoil.”

Wait a minute! Thermoil … I like it. It’s at once, hoity-toity and homespun. (Like me.) In fact, I’m so taken with it, I’ll click, “add to dictionary,” in the spell check of my Microsoft Word, thus making it an official Writing Dungeon word. Therefore, Thermoil, it shall be! (Sans quotation marks and capitalized.)

Used in conversation, “This Thermoil made my underpants swampy.” Or, “The Thermoil was so intense, we cooked eggs AND bacon on the sidewalk.” And sometime in the not-too distant future, “Aw, you’re full of Thermoil, and so’s your old man!”

And now that that’s out of the way, ask me, I dare you, just ask me if I believe in Climate Change. Because I don’t think it’s a matter of belief, I’ll reply to that question with two more: “Do I believe in Saturn? Do I believe in Jupiter?”

I cannot see either with my naked eye, but people who are much smarter than me, who study astronomy tirelessly, tell me Saturn and Jupiter are real, and they have all kinds of scientific data and even pictures to back it up. That’s good enough for me. Likewise, living in an up-until-now moderate clime, we’ve never actually seen or experienced Climate Change, but people who are much smarter than you and me, and have tirelessly studied it, have provided us with a slew of data and video evidence that it is indeed happening, and it would seem Thermoil is its punctuation.

Those very smart people told us long ago that the weather would become more and more severe; both cold and hot. They warned us we’d be seeing nasty, extreme winters and torrid (Thermoil) summers. They told us islands in the oceans would vanish. And now they’re telling us if we don’t do something about this soon, it’ll be too late.

Did you know there’s an alarming percentage of people in developed countries who believe the world is flat, and that percentage is steadily rising?

With all the knowledge available to us, way too many of us conflate belief with truth and reality. Water doesn’t exist because we believe in it. Likewise, climate change exists whether you believe it does or not. And right now, what we’re experiencing is the world’s climate changing. Drastically.

Doubt me? Earlier this month, it got over 120 degrees in flippin’ British Columbia. What’re we waiting for to spur us to action? Our swampy underpants catching fire?

Craig Carter is an Ontario resident and can be reached in care of The Argus Observer, 1160 S.W. Fourth St., Ontario, OR 97914. The views and opinions expressed in this column do not necessarily represent those of the Argus Observer.

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