Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning.
I'm no sailor, but, when the red sky at dawn is caused by smoke from the numerous wild fires completely consuming my beloved state; I heed the warning.
WARNING: Never, never, never ask "What else could possibly go wrong?" Because 2020 will reply "Hold my beer".
In the soon-to-be-immortal words of Avenue Beat: Low Key FUCK 2020.
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