How Hot Is It?

It's been nearly 20 years since Johnny Carson left The Tonight Show, but, if you can remember when he was the show's host, you can probably remember many of his ongoing routines.

I'm thinking of one in particular that was usually likely to surface during Carson's monologue, but it could happen at any time. It frequently popped up when something really extreme had been happening — for example, a lot more (or a lot less, for that matter) rain than usual.

He would say something like, "It was so wet (or dry) today that ..." and, before he could finish the joke, the audience would roar as one, "How wet (or dry) was it?"

As I say, it could be anything extreme — or anything, at least, that was perceived to be extreme. It could be "Dan Quayle is so dumb" or "Al Gore is so wooden."

Weather was always a good source, but it could be anything. Carson and his writers could be very creative at times.

(All together now — How creative were they?)

Lately, as the nation has been enduring the kind of heat wave that usually seems to be reserved only for Texas, I've been missing Carson.

Well, actually, as far as I am concerned, late night TV has never been the same since he left — so missing Carson is not a new thing for me — but, when there's something in progress like this heat wave, I really miss him.

These times cry out for an opportunity for heat–weary people to shout in unison, "How hot is it?"

Jacy Marmaduke of the Dallas Morning News has been keeping area residents advised as local temperatures have cracked triple digits daily for four straight weeks now.

Recently, this summer's heat wave claimed the second slot on the historical list. It overtook the summer of 1998 a few days ago.

I was living in Dallas in the summer of 1998, and that was, indeed, a brutal summer. I was working for a trade magazine and I had to cover a trade show in Chicago that July. While I was there, I encountered quite a few people who had come from places to the north — and some were complaining of the heat.

Personally, I didn't find the heat in Chicago nearly as severe as the weather I had just left. The difference was noticeable upon my return.

I don't think that would be true this summer. Nearly the entire country has been sweltering. It's been easing lately in places where it usually doesn't get that hot, but much of the country remains in the heat wave's grip.

Depending upon the cloud cover we have, our streak of triple–digit days may come to an end around here tomorrow — but, even if it does, the immediate forecast suggests that a brand–new streak is likely to begin on Sunday, and that one seems certain to continue for awhile.

Besides, as a meteorologist told Marmaduke, there isn't much difference between 99° and 100°. The difference is almost entirely psychological.

If the streak does not end tomorrow, the summer of 2011 may well go down as the hottest on record — at least in terms of consecutive 100° days.

To accomplish that, it will have to exceed the triple–digit streak of 1980 — and it just might do that, but it will never match the intensity of the summer of 1980.

I remember that one, too.

I wasn't living in Dallas in those days, but my grandmother was, and I remember coming here with my mother to visit my grandmother, who was starting to experience symptoms of dementia.

Daytime highs in 1980 seemed to get past 100° before noon and just kept climbing through the afternoon. I remember several days when temperatures flirted with 110° (the worst actually exceeded 110° a few times) — and I remember driving on the streets of Dallas and hearing the asphalt squish beneath the tires.

In 1980, a daytime high of only 100° was seen by some as a sign of an imminent cool front (it never was, but hope sprang eternal. Those triple–digit temperatures were daily facts of life for more than six weeks).

Needless to say, you could do a lot more than fry an egg on the pavement.

This summer's heat wave has been a scorcher, but the summer of 1980 (if it possessed human characteristics) would scoff. I can just imagine the things it would say. "Amateur!" it would sneer. "In my day, I gave 'em heat they're still talking about three decades later."

If some have their way, though, that consecutive triple–digit streak will tumble, and the summer of 2011 will be atop the list when all is said and done.

Marmaduke quotes a 15–year–old from Plano who wants a streak he can tell his grandkids about.

All I can say is, be careful what you wish for.

The 'R-Word'

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"Are there any niggers here tonight? Could you turn on the house lights, please, and could the waiters and waitresses just stop serving, just for a second? And turn off this spot.
"Now what did he say? 'Are there any niggers here tonight?' I know there's one nigger, because I see him back there working. Let's see, there's two niggers. And between those two niggers sits a kike. And there's another kike — that's two kikes and three niggers. And there's a spic. Right? Hmm? There's another spic. Ooh, there's a wop; there's a polack; and, oh, a couple of greaseballs. And there's three lace–curtain Irish micks. And there's one, hip, thick, hunky, funky, boogie. Boogie boogie. Mm–hmm. I got three kikes here, do I hear five kikes? I got five kikes, do I hear six spics? I got six spics, do I hear seven niggers? I got seven niggers. Sold American. I pass with seven niggers, six spics, five micks, four kikes, three guineas, and one wop.
"Well, I was just trying to make a point, and that is that it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness. Dig: if President Kennedy would just go on television, and say, 'I would like to introduce you to all the niggers in my cabinet,' and if he'd just say 'nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger' to every nigger he saw, 'boogie boogie boogie boogie boogie,' 'nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger' 'til nigger didn't mean anything anymore, then you could never make some 6-year-old black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger at school."

From Julian Barry's screenplay for "Lenny"
can be seen/heard in Lenny Bruce: Swear to tell the truth 1998

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During his much publicized appearance on "The Tonight Show" this week, Barack Obama inadvertently brought attention to what is considered an offensive slur.

Obama didn't actually use the slur — that's my understanding, anyway, since I didn't watch the program — but he did, as I say, bring attention to it indirectly.

It began as a bit of self-deprecating humor.

As you may recall, during last year's presidential campaign, Obama bowled a 37 in a game — which is pathetic, by legitimate bowlers' standards.

Obama told "Tonight Show" host Jay Leno that he had been practicing in the White House bowling alley and observed that his bowling skills are "like Special Olympics or something."

The remark prompted Deputy Press Secretary Bill Burton to explain that Obama did not mean to make fun of Special Olympics.

"The president made an offhand remark making fun of his own bowling that was in no way intended to disparage the Special Olympics," Burton said. "He thinks that the Special Olympics are a wonderful program that gives an opportunity to shine to people with disabilities from around the world."

It seems to me that, at some point, every president in my memory has — unintentionally — offended someone with an offhand remark, so Obama is certainly not unique in that regard. And it definitely isn't unique for a White House to have to backpedal when something a president has said is not well received by a segment of the public.

But, as Jessica Ravitz of CNN reports, Special Olympics is taking advantage of the unanticipated publicity to promote its campaign against the "R–word" — retard. And that part is unique in my experience.

The "(blank)–word" designation has been in vogue for awhile now as a substitute for whichever offensive term is being discussed — but without actually saying it.

I've always thought that was kind of a cowardly way to handle it. I much prefer Lenny Bruce's solution, which was presented in the 1974 movie "Lenny" — a film I urge everyone to see, by the way. As the movie demonstrated, Bruce was never timid about taking on sensitive issues, whether they dealt with sex or race or religion or anything else.

Bruce died in 1966, but his pursuit of truth inspired many great comedians — among them Richard Pryor, George Carlin and Bill Cosby. And I have no doubt that, if Bruce was alive today, he would have some choice things to say about the flap over Special Olympics.

Personally, I think he made a good point when he suggested that the suppression of words is what gives them the power to hurt people. By making them commonplace, he reasoned, you could take away those words' power to hurt.

I also think Carlin was correct — to a certain degree — when he took it a step further, suggesting that "the same words that hurt can heal. It's a matter of how you use them."

But Carlin made a valid point when he observed, after making some humorous references about Irish Catholics, that they were his "gang" and it's permissible, as he put it, "to hit your own gang."

I suppose the same logic can be applied to black rappers who use the word "nigger" in their recordings. But — still using that logic here — is it permissible for the same black rapper who uses the word "nigger" to also use the word "bitch" in a recording? If the rapper happens to be female, perhaps it is.

But, while I'm not a fan of rap music, most of the rappers with whom I am familiar are male, not female. So that logic would suggest that it is offensive for them to use the word "bitch."

That reminds me of a song by one of my favorite songwriters, John Lennon, that made a similar point about language. The song was called, "Woman Is the Nigger of the World."

I suppose I digress here.

But it really isn't that simple, is it? Some people use offensive words as weapons, and I doubt that will ever change. The words that are being used may change, but not the intention to hurt others.

Some such words just seem silly now — "cracker" comes to mind. I think, if anyone called me a "cracker," I would probably laugh.

I should point out, though, that Special Olympics doesn't hesitate to identify the "R–word" in its campaign. And there is nothing funny about the use of the word "retard." Ravitz's article at CNN.com posts a visual element from the campaign that puts it bluntly:

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"N–gg–r.
Sp–c.
F–g.
Retard.

And therein lies the problem."

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The real problem is that, like any offensive word, the "R–word" is just a word. Its origins may have been innocent enough, but it is used today to speak disparagingly of those who are now called "people with intellectual disabilities."

Personally, I don't think I have used the word "retard" since I was a child and knew no better. But many people do use the word, and I applaud Special Olympics' effort to "change the conversation."

As Carlin said, we do think in language. If we think of others in words that command our respect, perhaps we will treat them with respect, too.

Special Olympics is encouraging people to participate in a "day of awareness" on Tuesday, March 31. "[J]oin youth and actor John C. McGinley in a day of awareness for America[ns] to stop and think about their use of the R–word," the organization urges at its R–word website.

It's an appropriate occasion for people to think not only of the "R–word" but of the other words that people use that are hurtful. Perhaps it is a good starting point for changing all conversations.