You would think that being Ye Crazy Singaporean, I would shrug off any temperature above twenty-five degrees Celsius with a sardonic laugh, the same sort of laugh Grand Moff Tarkin must have uttered as Rebel fighters swarmed the Death Star and his aides looked at him in alarm as though he had swallowed a Bothan.
We will laugh even as hellfire rains upon us. "Oh, what a nice warm glow," we might say, basking in its unholy flicker. "Would you happen to have any more?" And our attackers would slink away in defeat and despair, planning for their next strike with freeze rays and ice beams and snowballs. But no more flames of doom, even if there is plenty of damnation. Unlike so many others, we do expect the Spanish Inquisition.
dkellis has a broken Air Conditioner, and awaits the coming of the Air-Conditioned Messiah here. QWP. Read the entire post, it's funny. 