It’s really, really hot out there. Not that I’m telling you anything you didn’t already know. The other day I glanced at the temperature indicator on my dash on the way home. Even though it’s crazy-hot out there, I was a bit surprised to see that it read 100 degrees. Welcome to Florida!

As you no doubt know, the temps are insanely-hot everywhere. All told, this is my 52nd summer in the Sunshine State and I’m over this heat! I realize we Floridians are not alone here, but who cares when the heat index is in triple digits. I really don’t like how each summer seems hotter than the one before…

And by now you know that the Zika virus is a thing down here. It’s not just travel-related cases anymore, our home-grown mosquitoes can transmit it. You don’t have to get bit in the tropics first and then fly back. Our native-born, highly-trained, courteous and efficient skeeters can gnaw on your sweaty flesh and transmit this terrible, modern-day plague.

I’m sick of the heat. I don’t want the latest mosquito-borne virus moving up the peninsula; got West Nile Virus in 2003, don’t want Zika. And I’m sick of that other plague we deal with here in Florida: Rick Scott, with the brain of a mosquito, and the heart of a vampire. Come to think of it, he looks like one, too!

Sticky, unrelenting sub-tropical heat; Zika-bearing skeeters furiously beating wings upstate, lusting for blood; the reincarnation of Bela Lugosi masquerading as our governor. That’s it. I’m hopping the first north-bound freight and heading for Canada.

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