Death and Destruction

With all the impending disaster, devastation, and catastrophe leaning menacingly over Southern California like a Dickensian headmaster over a cowering ragamuffin, sometimes you have to wonder why anybody would want to live here, much less the millions who do.

If an earthquake doesn’t collapse the freeway in front of you, wildfires destroy your neighborhood. If killer bees don’t chase you screaming into your swimming pool, the mosquitoes will give you West Nile virus. If a mountain lion doesn’t try to eat you while you’re bicycling, you’ll get caught in a massive riot that gets dispersed by mudslides that send you careening into the latest terrorist target just as they destroy it. And if you manage to avoid all that, your smog-ravaged lungs give out in a few years.

(And don’t get me started on goathead thorns.)

Of course, we don’t (usually) have to worry about hurricanes, tornadoes, alligators, giant anaconda, venomous cobras, or vermicious knids.

So which particularly Southern California method is your favorite? Blaze of glory on the freeway? Great white shark offshore? Psychotic B-movie star scandal? Movie or mini-series? Which way to go is the most, well, SoCal?

9 Replies to “Death and Destruction”

  1. The simultaneous occurrence of as many as possible.

    You can experience something like it in the course of a 2-hour Universal Studios tour (Backdraft, King Kong, earthquake, flash flood, bridge collapse, King Kong attack, Jaws shark-fu and that brilliant stomach-churning spinny tunnel now branded for the Mummy).

    But I’ve always wondered whether we’d know to shit or go blind if an earthquake occurred during rioting in a brush fire.

  2. I don’t have a favorite SoCal death wish, but I do have a favorite epic semi-SoCal-related disaster tune: The Divine Comedy’s “Here Comes the Flood.”

    I don’t want to give too much away, but the spoken word bit in the middle goes a little something like “If the good lord had intended me to live in LA, he’d have given me a machine gun. Still, here I am, just another worried little citizen of this modern-day Pompeii…”

    And yes, I did say “the spoken word bit.” Neil Hannon is a genius.

  3. I’m pretty sure the best way to go is to be offed by your tv/movie/musician loved one in a large house with either too few witnesses or far too many who didn’t see anything for the cops to make a case but from which several uniquely horrible made for tv movies and true hollywood stories will be made.

    That’s how I hope to go anyway. It will mean I’ve finally made it.

  4. It should involve the following elements:

    Freak botox accident
    Slow speed chase
    Hookers
    Ye Coach and Horses
    A large ziploc bag of crystal meth

    And of course…

    Salad

  5. Slow speed chase in a white Ford Bronco, chased by news choppers on the 405 in the middle of rush hour. Except instead of ending in Brentwood, maybe continuing on Sunset until reaching PCH, going up to Malibu & driving off a cliff into the Pacific Ocean (followed by a rainstorm and a mudslide).

  6. That definitely made my day. Now I can go take the train to work in the morning only to get blasted in UNION STATION, OR BLOWN UP FROM THE BUILDINGS DOWNTOWN.

    I SAY THE SMOG FROM THE CARS, IS THE ULTIMATE KILLER. THAT’S WHY PEOPLE MOVE TO RIVERSIDE TO GET AWAY FROM THE TRAFFIC AND FIRES, AND HEAT. AND HOPEFULLY NOT POLLUTION?

  7. >>>Don’t forget about contracting HIV from a pr0n star. ^_^ >>>Don’t forget about contracting HIV from a pr0n star. ^_^

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