Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Man, This Traffic Is Unholy
I know it isn't really fair that I am already better than most of you, my beloved Bucketeers, simply by the fact that I live in California and you (for the most part) don't. I don't take a whole lot of pride in this fact. If I were going to do that, I might as well take credit for obvious, self-evident things like gravity or water or the deliciousness of cake.
I can't take credit because I didn't choose California. I was raised here... for the most part. We spent some time out of state in the late 1970s, but apparently the fit just wasn't right. We came back here around 1980 and it's been all butter and cream ever since. In a way, I guess you could say I didn't choose California, California chose me. And that's the best basis for rationalized elitism there is: the anthropomorphization and assigned causality of random happenstance. If you reverse-engineer any situation long enough, logically the present conditions must happen. You can't argue with it. If you could argue with it, I wouldn't be here to argue against you, would I?
I know it sounds like nonsensical pseudo-logic of the worst kind, but it's the oldest human tradition we have. Just ask your priest/minister/rabbi. Which reminds me of a joke...
No time for jokes today, however. Deadly serious here in the Bucket today. While I love love love me some California and rarely miss an opportunity to point out that it is the middle of winter and 85-degrees today, I would like to say in a slightly more annoyed/bordering on panicky voice it is the middle of winter and 85-degrees today.
The pride I feel has been suffocated by ash and flame. Here, let me show you what Mrs. Pops' normal commute looks like:
Wow. Impressive, right? And apparently we live right downtown, which sounds uncomfortable considering there's no housing down there. Anyway, she's a trooper. Now let me show you what her trip has looked like over the last two days:
Oh my God... is that... Satan?! Right there in the middle of the conflagration, that's Satan! Man. It's not that I'm surprised to see that the Lord of Darkness is behind the recent lack of rain and resulting out-of-control brush-fires so close to major transportation arteries--that's really the sort of thing you expect from an antisocial sub-deity--I'm just amazed to see him show up on MapQuest. I always had him pegged for a Yahoo! Maps kind of a being.
If we were looking at the small picture, we could see that Satan clearly has it in for commuters. See how he craftily started his brush-fire so it strategically closes off SR-241 and 261, both of which lead DIRECTLY to my wife's work. And would it be too obvious to note that he hates the community of Anaheim Hills which is directly threatened and has been partially evacuated?
What really bothers me is that Satan has seen fit to hold his little hellfire orgy on land that has been designated as National Forest. I think the message is clear: the only thing Satan hates more than commuters and Anaheim Hills is... America. Specifically the Department of the Interior. I don't know what you did to wake the wrath of the Prince of Lies, Secretary of the Interior Gale Norton, but there is only one thing that can slake his unGodly thirst: the blood of virgins.
Start with Jonah Goldberg if you want to, I don't care. Just get it done. I know the president might not like it initially as he doesn't care for people extorting the United States through threats of violence and mayhem, but this is the Devil we're talking about. We know the president believes in the Dark One. You can't go around saying Jesus this and Jesus that every time something good happens without blaming Ole Scratch for the bad stuff. Otherwise it's Jesus' fault too.
Get cracking, Gale. And do it quick-like before the wind turns around and that smoke starts heading my way. You don't have to have a head-dress or ceremonial robes or even a stone altar (although I find stone-altars are the easiest for post-sacrifice cleaning). Just make sure that before the knife goes in, you say an inverted Our Father so that soul gets sent off in the right direction. We don't have to speak about it again. When the fire stops and the rain comes, we'll just know you did it all for us.
Thanks in advance.
This post on the Narcissus Scale: 8.7