I've lived in Arizona for... sixteen years now. That first year it hit 122 degrees and the airport shut down because the tarmac was melting and the landing gear kept getting stuck. The devil was vacationing in Scottsdale at the time but when it got too hot to walk barefoot by the pool he kicked a baby in the face and shipped out to Key West. (The devil is surprisingly tenderfooted.)
My parents have coped with the searing heat (and the wrenching pain of having been ripped from BeachFront PerfectTown and dropped into the godforsaken desert because of a job that would inevitably have my father gumming baby food at three in the morning for his ulcer, putting company payroll on his AmEx, and generally begging for a sweet merciful stroke) by taking every possible opportunity to announce how warm we are at all times. They have found this to be a particularly hilarious game this time of year, and have been known to actually get in the pool in January so that Mom can call the relatives with a hypothermic hand and announce in a weak, shaky (yet victorious and haughty) voice that they're swimming.
Until recently I was of the opinion that these condescending weather jokes weren't funny. That we all have our highs and lows, as it were, and it just wasn't that sporting to rub someone else's "low" nose in our "high".
But I've changed my mind. It was 81 degrees here on Christmas Day. And if it wasn't 81 degrees where you are, I'm sorry, that's fucking funny. Please see the following list of weather jokes for proof that Arizona winters are inherently comical, and that my parents, ulcers and all, were right all along.
1) Q: "How many Minnesotans does it take to plug in a car to keep the engine from freezing into a giant block of worthless ice?"
2) "Knock knock."
3) Q: "Is it hot in here to you? Do you mind if I turn on the air?"
A: "Oh my god, please."
4) Q: "What's long, made out of yarn, and you wear it around your neck to keep warm?"
A: "Flip flops!"
If you don't think these are funny it's only because you're freezing right now and you can't see humor through the pain. Maybe reread in like August when you've thawed out and when the devil is at the Phoenician sucking back a margarita in his Tevas and when I'm lying on my stomach on a bed of ice, praying for death.