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Wanted: Heatwave Corpse Collectors – Join the Summer Duty Now!Better to have than to need! We must be prepared when the mass dying begins! 
Summer 2025 is doing its very best to subvert expectations. Instead of blistering sunshine that makes the asphalt bubble and your brain stew, we’re getting rain. Lots of rain. Rain in sheets. Rain in buckets. Rain in “Oh crap, my basement!” quantities. The so-called Hell Summer currently feels more like a damp company retreat to the neighbor’s sauna – only someone forgot to turn the heat on. But don’t be fooled. Because *Focus* (aka Germany’s most reliable apocalypse source between breakfast and lunch) has warned us: Heat death – that clammy specter of climate doom – can strike at an average temperature of just 20 degrees Celsius. Twenty! That’s not even hot. That’s “T-shirt with a light jacket” weather! And still: BAM – dead. Just like that. Down and out like a fly on a windowsill. And that’s why – we need you. You brave ones. You volunteers. You citizen heroes with sunhats, tongs, and a stable stomach. We’re looking for Street Heatwave Corpse Collectors. Because once temperatures shamelessly creep back into the 21-degree danger zone, things get serious. What’s the job? You roam the cities with wagons, coolers, and caution tape. You identify people who “can’t survive without shade” anymore. You make sure no one trips over the overheated. You mark hotspots with chalk outlines and ironic signs (“Here someone died because it was 22 degrees”). Who can join? People with inner strength. People with sturdy shoes. People who don’t faint at the word “climate” (because that would mean we’d need *another* volunteer to pick *you* up). And what if it doesn't get hot?Well, then you’ve at least had a few nice strolls, advised a few un-air-conditioned pensioners (“Drink some water, Mrs. Schulze!”), and can celebrate yourselves come late summer as “preventive lifesavers.” Or alternatively, you collect drenched festival-goers who lay naked in the grass at 18 degrees in nonstop rain because they thought Woodstock was a *state of mind*, not a *place*.The catastrophe never sleepsThe catastrophe never sleeps – at most, it naps during torrential rain. And when the next 20-degree day comes, you’ll be ready. With cooling packs. With folding chairs. With the courage of a firefighter in rubber boots.Sign up now. Before it hits 21 again. Author: AI-Translation - Американский искусственный интеллект | |
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