Death Valley California
Holds the record for the highest air temperature ever recorded on Earth: 134°F (56.7°C) in 1913. More recently, it hit 130°F (54.4°C) in 2021. Dry, deadly, and like standing inside an oven.
Well, folks, it’s another scorcher in the land where the sun has zero chill—Death Valley, California! I’m Chase Raine, and if you were hoping for a refreshing breeze or a break from the relentless, soul-scorching heat—oh, do I have some bad news for you.
Right now, it’s a mind-melting 122 degrees out there, but don’t let that fool you—factor in that bone-dry, moisture-sucking air, and it feels like you’ve been personally invited into the Devil’s own sauna. Zero clouds, zero mercy, and a light 5 mph breeze that’s about as helpful as a hairdryer set to “inferno.” If you’re thinking, Hey, maybe I’ll step outside for a bit, let me stop you right there—unless you enjoy feeling like a rotisserie chicken, I’d reconsider.
Looking at the satellite maps… well, there’s nothing to see. Just an endless, unforgiving expanse of burning wasteland. No storms, no moisture, not even a whisper of hope. High pressure is parked over there like a bully sitting on your chest, locking in this delightful hellscape for the foreseeable future.
Tonight? Oh, it cools down—to a brisk 101 degrees. So, if you love the sensation of trying to sleep inside an industrial oven, congratulations! Tomorrow? A “refreshing” jump back up to 125 degrees because clearly, Mother Nature is pissed at us.
And for our neighbors—if you can call them that—Baker is cooking at a measly 116 degrees, practically sweater weather compared to here. Las Vegas is flirting with 109, but at least they have slot machines and bad decisions to distract them. And over in Barstow, it’s 113, meaning you’re still getting baked alive, just at a slightly slower rate.
Looking ahead—oh, you’re gonna love this—five more days of unrelenting, mind-numbing, dream-crushing heat. Highs staying locked in between 120 and 127 degrees with not a single drop of rain, breeze, or cloud to bring even an ounce of relief. So, what can you do? Hydrate, hide and pray for mercy.
That’s it for me, sending it back to Buford and Cordelia at the news desk—who, lucky for them, get to enjoy the sweet, sweet luxury of air conditioning. Hope you guys remembered to pack sunscreen because just hearing about this forecast might give you a sunburn!
Dome Fuji Antarctica
NASA calls this the coldest place on Earth, with satellite readings of -144°F (-98°C). That’s so cold your eyeballs could literally freeze.
Well, if you’ve ever wanted to know what it feels like to cease all bodily function in under 30 seconds, congratulations, because Dome Fuji, Antarctica, is delivering peak human misery today. I’m Chase Raine, and if you thought winter back home was bad, buckle up, because this place makes the inside of your freezer feel downright tropical.
Right now, it’s sitting at a casual -121 degrees out there, but thanks to the relentless wind whipping at 25 mph, it feels even colder—like your skin might just shatter on impact with the air. There’s zero humidity because even water vapor is too smart to exist here, and cloud cover? Nope, just a bleak, never-ending abyss of white nothingness. It’s the kind of place where even your breath freezes midair, a magical reminder that humans were never meant to be here.
Satellite images? Oh, they show exactly what you’d expect—an endless, icy wasteland that looks like a rejected movie set for “Frozen: The Horror Edition.” High pressure is locked in over the region, ensuring absolutely no warmth, relief, or even the faintest whisper of comfort in the foreseeable future.
Tonight, things somehow get even worse as we drop to a lethal -133 degrees. That’s right, colder than dry ice, colder than liquid nitrogen evaporates, colder than your ex’s heart. Tomorrow? Oh, a balmy high of -118, so get ready to break out your finest six layers of thermal regret if you plan to step outside—not that I recommend it unless you enjoy the feeling of instant frostbite.
Looking at the nearby areas, Vostok Station is clocking in at -119, so at least we’re not alone in our suffering. The Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station is sitting at -108, meaning if you squint hard enough, you can pretend that’s warm. And over in Concordia, it’s -125, which is really just splitting hairs at this point because once you hit triple digits below zero, it’s all just a slow march toward hypothermia.
Now, if you were hoping for some kind of improvement, I regret to inform you that this hellscape disguised as a continent has no plans of letting up. Over the next five days, we’re locked into -120 to -135 degree territory, no storms, no snow, no nothing—just the relentless, soul-draining abyss of an Antarctic deep freeze. The good news? At least there’s no traffic, bugs, or HOA meetings to deal with out here.
Sending it back to Delbert and Blanche at the desk, who, unlike me, are probably sitting next to a space heater right now. If any of you are still thinking, “Wow, I’d love to visit Antarctica,” I have a life-changing piece of advice for you—don’t.
Danakil Depression Ethiopia
Hell on Earth: brutally hot, poisonous gases, and acidic lakes. If a sci-fi villain wanted a secret lair, this would be the spot.
Well, folks, if you were wondering what it feels like to exist in a living nightmare, welcome to the Danakil Depression, Ethiopia—a place so inhospitable, even the devil would think twice before settling down here. I’m Chase Raine, and if you thought your summer was hot, let me introduce you to the closest thing to actual hellfire on Earth.
Right now, the temperature is sitting at a casual 119 degrees, but don’t let that number fool you—it feels much worse. The humidity? Practically nonexistent because any water that dares show up here evaporates faster than your will to live. Winds are chugging along at 15 mph, but honestly, they’re just making the heat move around more efficiently, like a convection oven cranked to maximum suffering. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the air is filled with toxic gases, courtesy of the cheerful little geothermal vents spewing sulfur like it’s their full-time job.
Looking at the satellite maps, you’ll see a whole lot of nothing—just scorched earth, bubbling acid pools, and the occasional volcanic plume belching out more poison into the air. No storms, no clouds, no chance of relief—just an endless, blazing wasteland that feels like Mother Nature’s cruel joke.
Tonight, things “cool down” to a suffocating 104 degrees, which means if you were hoping to sleep without feeling like you’re being deep-fried, think again. Tomorrow? Back up to 122 degrees with a side of lung-burning volcanic haze. And for those of you asking, “But Chase, what about rain?” Ha! That’s adorable. The last time Danakil saw any meaningful precipitation, dinosaurs were still roaming the earth.
Looking at the surrounding regions, Mekele is sitting at a much more pleasant 92 degrees, but at least they have the luxury of breathable air. Over in Djibouti, they’re sweating through 104 degrees, which sounds bad until you realize they have the ocean nearby and aren’t literally living on top of molten rock. And in Asmara? A measly 86 degrees, practically sweater weather compared to this nightmare landscape.
Looking ahead—well, just copy and paste today’s forecast for the next five days, because the heat isn’t going anywhere. 120+ degrees, zero clouds, and an air quality rating that basically says “Don’t breathe.” You know it’s bad when the only visitors here are scientists studying what life on other planets might be like—because let’s be real, even Mars seems more livable than this place.
Back to Elmer and Winifred at the news desk, who, unlike me, get to enjoy a building with air conditioning. If anyone was thinking of making a trip to Danakil, please reconsider. Unless, of course, your life goal is to be cooked alive while inhaling volcanic fumes—in which case, by all means, pack your bags.
Melbourne Australia
“Four seasons in a day” is real here. You can get sunburned, soaked, frozen, and blown away all in the same afternoon.
Well, folks, if you’ve ever wanted to experience all four seasons in a single afternoon, welcome to Melbourne, Australia, where the weather has the consistency of a toddler throwing a tantrum. I’m Chase Raine, and if you were hoping for a predictable, stable forecast, you’re clearly in the wrong city.
Right now, it’s 65 degrees, but don’t get too comfortable. Give it ten minutes, and you could be sweating, shivering, soaked, or possibly all three at once. The wind is whipping in at 35 mph because Melbourne apparently has a personal vendetta against umbrellas and loose clothing. Clouds are rolling through at a breakneck speed, so if you’re standing in the sunshine, enjoy it while you can because it’s probably about to pour on you without warning.
Satellite maps show absolute chaos—a patchwork of rain, clear skies, angry storm cells, and who-knows-what-else, all swirling together like someone shook up the entire atmosphere just to mess with us. There’s a weak cold front trying to push in from the south, but don’t worry—it’ll be overruled by some random burst of tropical air just to keep things extra confusing.
Tonight? A chilly 50 degrees, unless of course, the wind decides to make it feel like 40 or suddenly stop entirely and leave us in weird, humid stillness. Tomorrow? Expect highs in the mid-70s, lows in the 40s, scattered showers, random sunbursts, possible hail, and a 50% chance of literally anything happening. My best advice? Dress like you’re preparing for an arctic expedition, a summer barbecue, and an emergency flood all at the same time.
For those outside Melbourne, Geelong is sitting at 68 degrees, probably experiencing slightly less insanity but still a good chance of sudden rain ruining your day. Ballarat is colder, around 55, and likely just as windy, so if you live there, enjoy that brisk slap in the face every time you step outside. And Phillip Island? Mid-60s, but with gale-force winds that will make sure your hat ends up in the next town over.
The extended forecast? Oh, who are we kidding? Trying to predict Melbourne’s weather beyond 24 hours is a joke. Expect temperature swings, scattered rain, some random heat, some unexpected cold, and a near certainty that whatever you wear, it will be wrong. If you have outdoor plans, just assume nature will actively sabotage them.
Back to Homer and Maud at the anchor desk, who, lucky for them, don’t have to report this meteorological nightmare from outside. If you live in Melbourne, I salute your resilience, your optimism, and your never-ending battle with the wind.
Ilha da Queimada Grande (Snake Island) Brazil
Home to thousands of golden lancehead vipers, some of the deadliest snakes in the world. No humans allowed.
Well, folks, if you were thinking of making a little getaway to paradise, let me be the first to tell you: turn that boat around. I’m Chase Raine, and this is your soul-crushing, sweat-drenched, why-would-anyone-live-here forecast for Ilha da Queimada Grande—better known as Snake Island, which, let’s be honest, is a name that tells you everything you need to know. Let’s check out the misery.
Right now, it’s 88°F, but it feels like the inside of a dragon’s mouth thanks to the 90% humidity. That’s right, step outside, and you’ll be instantly wrapped in a thick, oppressive blanket of sticky, suffocating air. Wind? Oh, it’s trying, but at a pitiful 12 mph, it’s about as effective as blowing on a campfire. And cloud cover? Not a chance. The sun is out in full force, ready to roast everything in sight, including you, if you’re foolish enough to be here.
Looking at the satellite and radar, there’s a high-pressure system bullying its way across the region, ensuring we get no relief from rain. No storms, no cool breezes, just an endless stretch of sun beating down on this snake-infested rock. The ocean might look inviting, but trust me, between the riptides and whatever nightmare creatures lurk beneath the waves, you’re better off sweating it out on land.
Tonight, the temperature drops to a not-so-refreshing 79°F, which means instead of sleeping, you’ll just lie there in a puddle of your own sweat, wondering what life choices led you here. Tomorrow? Even worse. We’re looking at highs in the low 90s, and with humidity levels holding strong, you’ll feel like you’ve been slow-cooked all day.
Nearby, in Santos, people are enjoying a mild 84°F with a comfortable sea breeze. Over in São Vicente, they’ve got a delightful 82° with just enough clouds to make it pleasant. And in Itanhaém? It’s practically paradise—87°, low humidity, and ocean winds that don’t feel like someone left the oven door open. Must be nice.
Now, if you were hoping for a change in the extended forecast, I’ve got bad news: it’s the same brutal heat, day after day, with no relief in sight. The only thing breaking up the monotony? The occasional mosquito swarm or venomous reptile greeting you from the underbrush. Enjoy.
And that’s the latest from Snake Island, where the forecast is about as welcoming as the local wildlife. Back to you, Chester and Euphemia, sitting pretty in an air-conditioned studio where the biggest threat is a broken teleprompter. Lucky you.
Lake Karachay Russia
Dubbed the “most polluted place on Earth”, this Russian lake was used as a nuclear waste dump. Just standing near it for an hour is enough to receive a fatal dose of radiation.
Welcome to Lake Karachay, Russia, the only place on Earth where checking the weather is the least of your problems. I’m Chase Raine, and if you were hoping for a little fresh air and scenic water views, well, hope is dead, much like anything that spends too much time near this glowing cesspool of doom.
Right now, it’s a perfectly reasonable 72 degrees, but don’t let that fool you. This isn’t a place where the temperature is your biggest concern. Humidity? Irrelevant. Wind speed? Not that it matters, but it’s a light 7 mph breeze, which is just enough to carry the invisible death particles directly into your lungs. And the air quality? Oh, let’s just say the official rating is “run for your life.” There’s no cloud cover because even clouds don’t want to risk contamination.
Satellite images show exactly what you’d expect: a lake that isn’t really a lake, just a nuclear mistake left behind to haunt us forever. The water is so toxic, standing next to it for an hour is like hugging a Chernobyl reactor, except you don’t even get the cool HBO miniseries afterward. Radiation levels are through the roof, and while most lakes provide life and refreshment, this one offers certain death and a lifetime supply of regret.
Tonight, expect nothing new, just more silent, invisible doom drifting through the air. If you’re within breathing distance, you may want to reconsider all your life choices. Tomorrow? Well, you won’t need sunscreen, because your DNA will be rearranging itself long before sunburn sets in.
Looking at the surrounding regions, Chelyabinsk is hovering at 68 degrees, which sounds nice until you remember this is the place where a meteor exploded in 2013. So, between space debris and toxic runoff, good luck. Over in Yekaterinburg, it’s a comfortable 70, but don’t get too excited—you’re still downwind of Russia’s worst-kept nuclear secret. And for those of you near Kurgan, you’re sitting at 67, and while you’re not quite in the danger zone, let’s be real—you’re still in Russia, so who knows what’s lurking in the ground beneath you?
Looking ahead—well, the weather doesn’t really change here, but if you were hoping for a forecast, here it is: lethal levels of radiation today, lethal levels of radiation tomorrow, and, surprise—lethal levels of radiation for the next 500,000 years. No clouds, no storms, just a constant state of regret and environmental catastrophe.
Back to Horace and Myrtle at the news desk, who, unlike me, aren’t standing near a radioactive death trap pretending this is a normal weather report. If you ever find yourself near Lake Karachay—don’t. In fact, just turn around and start sprinting until you hit a country with a survivable atmosphere.
Chase Raine, the flamboyant chief meteorologist at station WUSS (Wildly Unreliable Storm Speculation), has been thrilling viewers with his dramatic forecasts and love of extreme weather for over a three decades. His energetic style and uncanny ability to predict weekend washouts have made him a local favorite. He’s penned three New York Times best-selling books: Cloudy with a Chance of Panic, Storm Chasing for the Chronically Unathletic, and The Doppler Deception. Off the air, he’s been happily married to his wife Agatha for 105 years, raising three rambunctious children, Larry, Moe and Curly Joe, alongside his beloved pet armadillo, Sir Rumbleshell.
