After suffering from writer's block over how to describe HOT, you decide to relax and eat your locally sourced artisan dust sandwich. It's a little dry and your goblet is empty. Like a sweaty, dumb dragon, you start to cough flames and accidentally set fire to your collection of John Fante novels. Desperate, you put out the flames with your own warm saliva while Chevy Chase rides by pouring cans of La Croix on his moist body. He doesn't share his chapstick. Expect no breeze, no gods, no masters, no winter coats, traffic delays, and chafing.