Seeking a respite from heat — outdoors and in politics

If you can believe them, forecasters have been trotting out computerized groundhogs this week to tell us that today should be the first day of relief after 11 consecutive days of hat-trick temperatures in triple digits.

Can you believe that it was only last year when we sponsored a contest to predict the year’s first 100-degree day and ended up having only one such day for the entire year?

So far this year, we’ve been much more blessed — or cursed — with Mother Nature’s warm embrace. Marion County has recorded a total of 21 days of temperatures so warm that hair dryers aren’t needed if you stick your head outside.

In the past seven years we’ve been blessed only twice with a single day of 100 degrees — in 2020 and 2025. The closest we came to this year’s 21 sizzling days was in 2022, when we had 18 — none in September.

We’re not sure where this hot air is coming from. Some say global climate change. Others blame El Nino. My theory, not borne out by any meteorologist or his accompanying dog, is that it’s caused by high pressure centered over a certain light-colored residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.

If you’re of a mind (or, perhaps, don’t have one) you might attribute my theory to Trump Derangement Syndrome. But where else have we seen so much hot air being released all at once?

After trying in vain to snatch victory from the firm jaws of defeat in a shooting war with Iran, we’ve decided to start a trade war with those really villainous people of — wait for it — Canada.

Who can trust super-polite people who put gravy and cheese curds on fries and sell them from every corner in what pass for big cities there?

This week’s moderating forecast may in fact be wrecked by a radicalized slice of the Republican Party. Its Trumpapalooza midterm convention will feature the president exhorting voters to cast their ballots this fall as if he were running. Democrats must be salivating at the prospects given his record low popularity.

All of which led me to imagine what might happen if our distinguished president ruled not the United States but Marion County.

Would we begin imposing tariffs on anything bought in neighboring counties, even Chase and Morris, which we undoubtedly would insist be incorporated as townships within our county?

Would we insist that the Santa Fe Trail be renamed the Marion Trail? To address supposed needs for a wedding venue, would we tear down a third of the courthouse and build a gigantic ballroom instead?

Would the Hill School become Trump Tower Midwest? Instead of installing a new online payment system, would the county begin insisting on being paid in bitcoin bearing his digital image? Would we be dropping a Bombardier bombshell insisting that we can’t bring into the county anything created elsewhere out of parts made here?

Would we be blowing up boats on the reservoir because they might be carrying drugs? Would we be seeking to throw out everyone who sneaks in from God-forsaken places like Wichita?

The only bright spot could be that county commissioners might be fired if they didn’t start each meeting by pledging allegiance to the president instead of to the flag.

Of course, he might try to bring back David Mayfield and Gideon Cody to finish the job of trying to take out the newspaper and other voices of dissent.

All of this is satire, of course. We doubt anyone would be allowed to get away with doing such stupid things. Then again, a lot of equally stupid things seem to be going on without answer nationally.

We can treat this like some Kardashians reality show, providing fulsome fodder to idle coffee klatch conversations. Or maybe, just maybe, a few of us can start refusing to admire the emperor’s new clothes and begin insisting that tearing things down is not the way to build anything up.

— ERIC MEYER