CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #229
NOVEMBER 16, 2008
As I sit by my window and watch the leaves on the trees turn from green to brown, and from brown to fire, I can't help but reflect on the two seasons of Southern California. Inferno and flood. Soon the stinging smoke, raging wildfires and inevitable pyromaniacs will give way to months and months of biblical rain. And with that rain will come the memories... a home perched on a hilltop becoming garbage nestled in a valley, an idiot falling into the L.A. River and trying unsuccessfully to crawl up its cement banks, another genius being lifted off the roof of his car by a helicopter in Encino, the cliffs above Pacific Coast Highway collapsing yet again and causing Malibu residents so much inconvenience, Bob Myer reassuring me that writing the second act of a Roseanne episode at two in the morning is more in my self-interest than trying to drive home and move my stuff to the second floor (but more likely becoming one of the knuckleheads standing on the roof of his car praying for a chopper). But I, as is my nature, whataya gonna do, I yam what I yam, digress. Eventually the rains will stop, the underbrush will grow, the drought will come, the drought will linger -- maybe for years, until the mountains and hillsides once again explode with "Live At Five", "Film at Eleven" hellfire, and thus continue the cycle of seasons of Southern California... if you don't count earthquakes and riots. And strikes. And award season. No insurance policy protects against the damage done by award season. Oops, I digressed again.
