Proposition Shhhhh: Solving California's overpopulation crisis

By: LOUISE ESOLA - Staff Writer | Friday, March 10, 2006 10:58 PM PST ∞

Californians, let's band together. Join me in this effort.

Let's all stop telling our friends and family about this wonderful land.

For I truly believe it is our big mouths that got us in this pickle.

Snarled traffic. Crowded schools. Freeway-turned-parking lots. Housing shortages. Overpriced 400-square-foot, single-family dwellings. Long lines at convenience stores that defeat the purpose of convenience.

How did it get this way?

Let me first explain that I ---- now a nearly four-year resident with voter registration and California plates ---- am guilty of exacerbating the problem.

Just this week I received an e-mail from a friend of a cousin who wanted to know all about San Diego, namely, because she is thinking about moving here with her husband. I responded with gusto, as though the state of California were doling out finder's fee for reeling in new residents.

As you well know, this place, despite the current panic-inducing rain that has the rest of the country ridiculing us, is a sort of paradise in terms of meteorology. I wrote how you can sunbathe in winter and how you can sport your summer wardrobe year-round. The beach is a blast, I explained to this East Coaster, who could very well be suffering from frost bite these days.

After making my sales pitch, I clicked "send" on my reply, got into my little car and hit the freeway.

There, the panic struck. What was I thinking?! More people?! More cars?! Longer lines at the grocery store?!

I just invited more folks to a house party where there are no more chairs to sit or room to stand, where the hors d'oeuvre trays are now home to crumbs and splintered, greasy toothpicks.

This, ladies and gentlemen of California, is how it got that way: Big mouths are to blame.

Historical records reveal that it all started in 1542 when the great conquistador Juan Cabrillo sailed his giant ships north from Mexico and, donning tights and a helmet, landed on the tip of what is now Point Loma.

After pillaging the indigenous, who were deemed uncivilized because they were not wearing tights and helmets, Cabrillo and his armada kept on sailing north, making pit stops in beautiful Catalina and the shores of Los Angeles. They didn't have time to visit the scene of the once-alleged O.J. Simpson murders or J.Lo's new restaurant, because somewhere in the ruckus of trying to comprehend LA tour guides, Cabrillo died and ---- like an accident on the freeway during rush hour ---- the voyage came to a screeching halt.

However, at times during the journey, Cabrillo and his mates were known to have wasted countless "roaming" cell phone minutes giving friends and family the 4-1-1 on how great the weather is. And not only that, they also indulged them on the beautiful scenery and attractions, which, as the legend goes, included Legoland.

Soon thereafter, more boats were on their way. Proposals for 800-unit, 4-acre housing developments rained on city council agendas. Backyard? Who needs a backyard? The earth moved with groundbreakings galore. The first beachfront condominium complex went up. And another and another. Homes sprouted and spread like chickenpox. Roads were built to resemble the arteries of the human body.

The new inhabitants spread the word. Then more people moved here and told their friends, and so on. We're still telling everyone how wonderful we have it. The migration hasn't stopped. Just look at the roadways.

Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger said he has a solution to the traffic problem, at least, with more roads. But I think he's missed the mark.

What he needs to promote is Proposition Shhhhh: Stop telling people about Gollyfornia.

We need to band together and keep our big mouths closed or else that 45-minute run to the grocery store could someday turn into a two-hour expedition.

Stop replying to the e-mails. Do not invite outsiders to visit you. Stop filming on location. Ban scenic postcards.

Contact staff writer Louise Esola at lesola@nctimes.com.

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