Before I leave this heat jag behind permanently, I thought I’d share an entry that captures the more typical tone of my grandfather’s commentary.
Unlike some of his wilder flights of fancy (“stingerami,” anyone?), this is something I can see and hear my grandfather saying, probably as he mopped his brow.
It’s simple, to the point, and maybe just a little whimsical — since what we have here is a 60-year-old man co-opting the slang of 20-year-olds. That may sound like a dicey proposition in print, but I always found it charming when he would use it in person.
July 2, 1972. "Hot! Man."
Now, if he’d said “mang,” that would have been a bit too much.
Coming Monday on 5,478 Days: Thunder, lightning and a rebirth of sorts.
Hope Street 
Ha-ha, I have used “Man” for at least 45 years–still do!