100 degrees and I'm painting a mural in a client's courtyard. A dreamy bamboo forest emerges from my brush and overheated mind, blue streams and mysterious marshes now surround a zen garden. But it's so damned hot--hey, this is Florida, where a concerned stranger who loved my artwork told me I'm going to burn in hell for eternity--that now I know why Bush won here, why 18,000 votes disappeared in the last election and very few really seem to care. Brain fry. Who can think clearly in this devilish oven?
Antidote--fight the good fight from afar.
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