There I was comfortably strewn across my couch doing what any good American family would do on a Saturday night—watching with the wife and kids a comedy about two nincompoops running for Congress. All of a sudden as fast as the strike of a scorpion (how’s that for using some West Coast jargon?) the power went out. No nincompoops, no nothing.
Instantly I was returned to the Stone Age. We, the so-called elitists from Malibu, were immediately transformed into the Flintstones. The kids realizing there was absolutely nothing left to do in the universe went to bed before 9 p.m.—possibly a record for them.
My wife and I had a cup of tea and then retired. It doesn’t get more civilized than that, or more boring.
I looked out from my balcony and could barely see another light except the far off lights of Santa Monica and, of course, the lights from the stars above. Malibu from my neck of the woods was in the dark, and quite beautiful.
Naturally I was curious as to what had caused this sudden interruption in my Saturday night activity. Since there was no hurricane like Sandy in the area, nor even much of a wind for that matter, I concluded there could be only two possible explanations for this blackout.
Perhaps God is a Republican and was showing his wrath at his people for reelecting the President, or this was simply a terrorist plot by Al Qaeda. Since God is supposed to be nonpartisan, I ruled out the former, but for the life of me I just don’t understand why All Qaeda would pick on Malibu.
As I get older, life becomes more confusing, but one thing I know is if I don’t have power, I might as well be back in Jersey, where many of my friends haven’t had power for almost two weeks.
