Escondido Bomb House

so now san diego is in the news again because of the bomb house in Escondido. and the grand solution the authorities have come up with is to burn the house to the ground.

Merry Christmas, unfortunate neighbors, here is your toxic smoke and fireworks. weeeheee!

don't get me wrong, i LOVE san diego. it is, almost, paradise. but i think we are sending tourists a bad message.

between your "junk" being groped at Lindbergh airport, the chance a bomb-maker could move in next door, and the apparent leanings of the county officials toward pyromania, someone could get hurt.

so, fellow writers, doesn't it seem more and more evident that true life is stranger than fiction?

Splendor Ship and Don't Touch My Junk Synchronicity

about a mile from our tiny victorian apartment in san diego, in the bay, sits the gigantic cruiseship splendor while they fix it. (it arrived, not under its own power, just before the veteran's day parade, held a block away.) that was exciting enough.

then san diego in the news again, all over the world, again, for the guy at our airport who uttered the now famous line "Hey, Don't Touch My Junk."

ah, synchronicity, you gotta love it. both incidents happened in our fair city, san diego! both involved travel! both went viral, engendered crass humor, caused a rumpus and ruckus! hooray!

now there are the mysterious explosions in Escondido to account for. what if they somehow link to the other two incidents? won't that be splendid?

have you ever gotten waylaid (no, not laid, waylaid) by security? or by insecurity?