This is your News You do not Need podcast.

So there I was, minding my own business on Christmas morning, unwrapping a gift of existential dread—aka my annual fruitcake—when I stumble across the most pointless, pants-wettingly weird news from the last day. Picture this: Southern California, land of eternal sunshine and influencers filming avocado toast, gets slammed by a storm so biblical it turns Wrightwood into a rooftop rescue reality show. I'm talking 10 inches of rain dumping on burn scars from some old fire, washing away backyards, swallowing cars whole, and forcing neighbors to play human helicopter, plucking folks off their roofs like soggy Christmas ornaments.

One guy, Tim Needam, films his buddies wading chest-deep in mudslide mayhem to save the neighbors—because nothing says "Ho ho ho" like dodging debris at Christmas. At least three dead already: a San Diego dude crushed by a falling tree (talk about a lump of coal from Mother Nature), a Sacramento deputy in a weather-wrecked crash, and who knows how many more as the next wave rolls in. Evacuations in Malibu, flood watches everywhere, wind howling like a drunk uncle at karaoke. Jill Jenkins and her grandson Hunter almost bailed from their house when the yard vanished into a chocolate river, but nah, they stayed for the e-bike and snowboard. Priorities, people!

Why do you need to know this? You don't. Unless you're planning a Yuletide mud-wrestling vacay or collecting "crazy Christmas" tattoos. California storms are like that ex who shows up uninvited—dramatic, destructive, and gone by New Year's. Me? I'm just here eating my fruitcake, praying my backyard doesn't audition for Noah's Ark 2. Stay dry, folks, or at least film it for the 'gram. Merry whatever-this-was.

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This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI