This one was really minor, evidently a 4.5 centered 30 miles away. I’ve experienced much bigger, once in Las Vegas and once in Seattle. Still, there’s something really creepy about it every time, with the noise-like vibration much lower than regular sound, and the feeling of knowing there are things out there that are much, much more powerful than you.

May all my L.A. quakes be as manageable as tonight’s.

Nothing.

Ever.

I don’t mean the way theater always starts 5-10 minutes late, or the way sometimes your friend’s watch is running slow. We’re talking any time you try to get 3 or more people together, it’s guaranteed that one of those people will be at least a half an hour late.

The worst part is that it’s nobody’s fault. It’s L.A.’s fault. Traveling by car, it takes 45 minutes to get anywhere, even places that sometimes take 15 minutes. Beyond knowing that entering the 405 while its sunny will likely add an hour to your travels, there’s no real predicting when traffic might swell and engulf you. Sure, it’s mostly around rush hour, but then some times it happens at 1 p.m. for no reason. Or sometimes the whole town is empty (like during Sundance.) There’s no telling.

I wonder why we even have watches. Guessing is likely to be about as accurate.

I have always been the kind of person who was on time. Not early, just on time. But since I’ve moved here, I admit there have been a couple of times that I’ve been egregiously, egregiously late. I suspect, as well, that there are those who take advantage of the situation and show up late on a whim. If someone calls and tells you they’re late because traffic is bad, it’s more likely than not that they’re telling the truth.

Anyway, the whole thing makes it really hard to do what I’ve planned for later this afternoon. I’m trying to have coffee with people to join my online comedy group effort, for about an hour each, each hour. It’s doomed to fail. I’ve learned to bring a book.

I may be biased, but this absolutely seems like the best designed of all the quarters. Mount Rainier, a forest, “The Evergreen State,” and a salmon, all laid out nicely into the space on the back of the quarter. Definitely better than dumb old Indiana, with it’s race car, or Montana, which is evidently the dead cow state. And we get it, Illinois. Lincoln was born there. Get over yourselves.

In the early days of my old sketch troupe, I wrote a joke that never made the stage: I thought it would be funny if, when it came Washington’s turn to design their quarter, they put a picture of George Washington’s head on the back. That still makes me laugh. I’m awesome.