Scram, Californians, before it’s too late!

That's my son! A man-turn at 16. Too bad the photog has no skills.

That’s my son! A man-turn at 16. Too bad the photog has no skills.


We live thousands of miles from L.A., but my son’s a California kind of kid – more stylish than others around here, ridiculously good looking, and spoiled. Not spoiled in a “Happy 16th birthday, there’s a new beamer in the driveway” sort of way, but a “the world revolves around you” way. I can’t take credit for the first two traits, but I feel responsible for the last due to years of being his buddy instead of his dad. He’s a perfect fit for SoCal, and he wants to move there for college starting next summer. I don’t get it; the place is too crowded for me. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna fall into the ocean.

I’ve been convinced of this ever since my family got HBO in 1982 and I sat mesmerized with The Man Who Saw Tomorrow. When Orson Welles assures you that many of this Nostradamus cat’s 16th Century predictions were right on, and that the guy wrote that “there will be a very great earthquake,” and that it may well happen in California, you’re inclined to believe him. When he goes so far as to provide a date, May 10th, and that date happens to be your birthday, the prophesy become etched in your brain forever.

Why would Nozzie go through all the trouble of putting this shit down on parchment if he didn’t really “see” it on the HD plasma ball inside his head? Writing was a pain in the ass in the 1500’s. Office Max wasn’t around, so you had to make your own pen by plucking it from a goose’s ass and then milking a squid to get a saucer full of ink. So duh, the prophesy so obviously must be true.

"Five centuries hence, the world will be filled with idiots who believe all that I profess will come to pass." -Nostradamus

“Five centuries hence, the world will be filled with idiots who believe all that I profess will come to pass.” -Nostradamus


The Big One is coming, and I’m not alone in thinking Cali will be Ground Zero. Lucy Jones, a leading seismologist known as “The Earthquake Lady,” agrees. “Southern California,” she says “is the most likely source for a great earthquake in the United States right now.” The thing that tips me off is the West Coast drought, and 2014 being the driest year since 1850. In my experience, dry stuff cracks. At least that’s the case when my lips are chapped. Plus, the Lakers had an historically awful season, so other historically awful shit is bound to follow.

So let’s say the quake does happen, and a chunk containing Los Angeles, Orange County, and San Diego goes the way of the Titanic. That means no more Hollywood (Bummer!), no more Sea World (Swim Shamu, you’re free!), and no more In-n-Out Burger (Suicide watch!)

But more importantly, what will we be left with in terms of surfing? The world tour won’t be affected since Southern California has all but fallen off the edge of the earth already in that regard. The major surf mags as well as the bulk of the surf industry will disappear (the parts that haven’t already). All of the old surf spots will be gone, but they should be replaced by new ones. Finally, and most tragically, the city of Hollister will suddenly find itself along the shore, providing the first shred of credibility to the faux surf chain in every mall across America.

This is one way to get the Clippers away from Donald Sterling.

This is one way to get the Clippers away from Donald Sterling.


I know what you’re thinking, that being out of the water has turned me into some sort of doomsday crackpot, that next I’m gonna suggest that the goverment is trying to control our minds by peppering us from above with airplane chemtrails. That’s ridiculous. We have iPhones to handle the task of mind control.

But what about my son? Should I be okay with him heading West? If my calculations are correct, the catastrophic event will have already happened by the time he graduates high school. And that means the crowds will be gone. In which case, I might have to join him.

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