Where's Flash Gordon When You Really Need Him?
'Course we might have stuck it out, except for Ming the Merciless and his cabal of anointed elites who were hell-bent on turnin' the state into their own private pleasure compound—and then expectin' us to pay for it. F'instance:
Beaches have to remain untrammeled by human (or canine) footprints so they can enjoy their private midnight strolls along the shore undisturbed.
Mountains have to be kept pristine so they can build their compounds on 'em and enjoy an unsullied view.
Forests cannot be invaded unless they want to build rustic, 50,000 sq. ft. six bedroom, six bath log cabins (with pool, Jacuzzi and tennis courts) in the middle of 'em to enjoy the wilderness.
Cars must be gas free, pollution free, and small enough to get shoved outta' the way (or run over) when they wanna' drive their Hummers on the freeways.
Toxic cigarette smoke must be banned outdoors so they can fully enjoy the high from their joints.
Undocumented workers must be given free access to the financial bounty of California, assigned to approved ghettos, and only come out when they want their fields harvested, their grass mowed, their gutters cleaned, their trash picked up, and their SUVs washed.
They demand equal rights for everyone except straight people and Christians.
That's just a sample, but it was enough to convince us to get the hell outta' Dodge (aka Rodeo Drive).
BUT… After all this time, I finally found the reason California is lookin' like somethin' that came from outer space.
posted by Harrison at 3:49 PM