Please let me set the scene for you. (Ever since I moved to Malibu I speak theatrically.) There I was just a couple of weeks ago sitting comfortably in my favorite chair watching some mindless television show when something extraordinary happened, something that had never happened to me in my almost 8 decades on Planet Earth.
Suddenly my butt started to shake uncontrollably. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Then the chair upon which my butt was situated also began to vibrate. This strange sensation lasted for no more than two seconds, and then all returned to normal as if nothing had happened.
It is exactly this kind of happening which necessitates having a life partner, and so I asked my bride whether we might have just experienced an earthquake. Only a few yards from me, my bride, who normally recognizes an earthquake long before I do, felt absolutely nothing. She checked the hanging light fixtures, but they were not swaying in the least.
She immediately turned on the television set and sure enough, people all over the place were calling the various networks reporting a whole lot of shaking. Now I know that there is a list of things I am supposed to do when an earthquake strikes. I unfortunately forgot where the list was, and so I immediately returned to watching the television. I am getting to the point in life where if an earthquake gets me, then perhaps it was my time to check out anyway.
What bothers me about this entire episode is that the seismologists reported that the epicenter was somewhere near Carson City. I respectfully have to disagree with them even though they are trained scientists, and I know nothing. I can pinpoint the exact epicenter of this earthquake with a great deal of accuracy and certainty. The epicenter was unmistakably directly under my butt.