But it’s not, of course. The greatest threat comes from people who believe governments and rent-seeking scientists who devise clever computer models to “prove” that This, That, and/or The Other Thing is The Greatest Threat. Doesn’t anyone read H. L. Mencken anymore? You know, the constant stream of “gremlins” by which the government scares people into accepting its protection, for just a smidgen (more) of liberty. Come on! Let’s make a deal!

Government, quite clearly, is a protection racket.

At any rate—that’s right, whether slow or fast—those same kind of computer models and that same kind of thinking led that tenured moron Paul Ehrlich to predict, in his 1970s screed The Population Bomb, death by starvation for 50 to 100 million people—and he meant Americans, in the 1980s! To this day he’s still a hero of the hero-besotted left. Unbelievable. Even after Julian Simon serially kicked his flabby ass with that sequence of commodity bets. (Don’t remember that? Never heard about it? That’s why there’s Google.)

Perhaps we should call it the Malthus Syndrome, that tendency to freeze science, facts, and trends and project them into the future. This entirely leaves out human imagination and inventiveness, as well as some highly effective skullduggery and manipulation.

I’ve noticed that even in the Skeptical Inquirer—as well as Skeptic, edited by the libertarian Michael Shermer—such ideologues are rarely skeptical of their own biases, pet peeves, and lovingly tended dogmas. I love the mags, as they thoroughly debunk the Sylvia Brownes of the world along with recovered memories, Bigfoot, UFOs, and moral panics. That said, the majority of the writers and readers (judging from the great letters sections) are run-of-the-mill, doctrinaire, control-tripping collectivists who really, honestly, sincerely know how to run your life better than you do. So, gosh darn it, will you kindly get out of the way and let Friedman & Co. get on with the job of Saving The Planet!

I can’t remember where I heard it (if you know, tell me so; I think it may have been sci-fi) but it went something like this: “Whenever I hear that a nation has ‘progressed past the need for material things’ and achieved a state of ‘peace and plenty’—I always wonder where the death camps are.”

The fire, at least the portion of it that got within a few wind sprints from our street, is out. The greater conflagration continues to move north and east—from the looks of the map below, mostly east. The main thing is that it is no longer hovering over the mountains and hills that make up the barrier between Tujunga and the Angeles National Forest, a forest that turns to desert rather quickly. The map (below) shows the current area of the fire. Tujunga is just to the right of Sunland, a bit to the left of the left-most blue star.

This map was accurate as of 2pm, Tuesday (9/2).

I am back at work, now that I have both an operational home network and a functioning brain. How difficult it is to work when you are listening for an evacuation siren, seeing neighbors run past the front windows, hearing helicopters chop-chop across the sky and trying to save that one last nerve for something really important. My friend, Steve S., from down the block, took this picture (below) from our street Monday night, right before the tide turned.

The flames broke over the near ridge about 11pm Monday (8/31), but were beaten back overnight.

Now we can think, if not breathe, freely. The air stings the eyes and the lungs a bit, the moon is a pale yellow with the natural smoke filter and ash, both fine and oddly chunky, is everywhere. Perhaps this was all a make-work project for California or the U.S. government. Put people back to work fighting fires and cleaning up after. It makes as much sense as any other proposal I’ve heard.

It took me a few paragraphs to introduce anything even remotely political. In fact, politics was the farthest thing from my mind the past few days, and it was a nice respite. one I should like to continue—without need of another calamity, thank you very much. It is most certainly not true that “the personal is political” or that  ”everything” revolves around, depends on, gets its meaning from or finds its best expression in politics. It was refreshing to have such a simple, straightforward lifestyle this week. Nothing focuses the mind like a good, primordial battle with a raw, savage, life-giving, life-taking element like fire. For having survived, the thousands and thousands of people who have been on the front lines of this inferno get the license to use the first person plural in proclaiming victory. “We made it, we won! We survived the ‘Sunland-Tujunga Station Fire’ of 2009!”

These are still low-resolution images from a slow-shuttered, handy pocket-size, quick-pic camera from about 1998, but they should bear dramatic witness to the proximity and downright nasty nature of the Station Fire. These were taken just about 10pm straight up.

It is tremendously difficult to relax, eat, watch TV, or anything else with a flaming sword of Damocles hanging over our heads. Thanks for your support, folks. Back in a few hours.

We are on the edge of this whole conflagration (see map below) and the winds are blowing south to north, meaning roughly from bottom to top on the map. The fireman who lives across the street, a Los Angeles city employee, insists we are fine where we are, that the evacuation was mostly logistical—to keep people from clogging the streets, backing into fire trucks, etc.

I had all the computers packed in the car but got the trusty MacBook out so I could post this update and do a little bit of business correspondence (personal, too). The show must go on, and I have to keep working to keep eating, so as things come to some sort of stay-or-go resolution I will get back to writing. I just don’t want to start and then have to pull the plug and drive away. I want to hit a “smooth stretch” of road, so to speak, so I can get a few things done without being interrupted by an evacuation order.

I will be back in a few hours, folks!

It is far too smoky for pictures. We are surrounded by huge, smelly, acrid banks of smoke clouds, and it is affecting the eyes and respiration. This is incredible, quite honestly.

I think I will just wait until some definitive change occurs before posting again. This rollercoaster, on-off-on thing is a killer. Whether prayers, positive vibes, or best wishes, whatever you have for us, we’ll  take. Back tonight or in the morning, I hope.

Here are the latest pics. The batteries are losing juice, so I apologize for the blurry or pixelated nature of some or most of these current images. Still, whatever you see as yellow or orange dots and smears—that’s the trouble! Needless to say, we are ready to go—still.

We will get 30 minutes to evacuate, from the time of the knock on the door or the siren/hornblast in the street from the fire department or police. I stayed packed, Lydia unpacked this afternoon—but organized SuperWoman that she is, she is ready again, and we have all the essentials ready to go.

Sorry to take you on this emotional see-saw ride, but consider what it’s been like on the front lines here. It really does focus the mind, you know? It helps you remember, if you’ve allowed yourselves to forget, what is truly valuable in this life.

I left everything in “evac” mode—the computer network is down, the bags are packed, the car is ready, and we are just biding our time as the battle rages around us. I will post again soon, folks.

At 8am this morning, the red glow had been replaced by huge banks of smokeclouds, and my neighborhood looked downright foggy. By noon it had cleared up about 80% as the fire, so the reports say, had headed north toward the high desert (Acton, Palmdale, Lancaster). Things are returning to normal, and if there are no wind changes or “rekindlings” by 6pm we are advised that we can unpack and rest easy.

This was the closest we’ve ever been to a California wildfire, and I’ve lived here since 1957 (age of four) and Lydia has been here even longer. We have been in the L.A. area for 20 years together, and this was our first fire emergency. We survived the Rodney King riots, the 1994 quake, and a few El Niños, too. Now we’ve survived this.

Thanks to the family, friends, correspondents, fans, detractors, and miscellaneous hominids who called in or wrote to express their support, encouragement, the use of their homes, and (as families will do) the use of other siblings’ homes for the duration of the crisis. We are happy to report, in advance of any official pronouncement, that the situation is just about back to normal, wildfire-wise at least.