In deference to the rules of war established by the Geneva Convention, we are required to warn all Northern California residents that as of this Thursday, Bernie bin Laden will once again be deployed against you.

We'll be traveling in a silver/gray Honda SUV with a reinforced cabin and slightly gnawed seatbelts. The truck will be easily identified by the black cloud of locusts and pestilence above it, and the trail of destruction and famine left in its wake. The formerly peaceful beaches of Carmel will soon echo with the lamentations of those victims whose shoes Bernie has shredded, dog toys he has stolen, and sunscreen-greased backs he has scattered sand across. And that's just within the first five minutes of our arrival…

I'd like to tell you that he'll someday feel bad for the mayhem he spreads, but sadly, that's just not going to happen. Because Bernie bin Laden is, for all intents and purposes, a rock star. No dog (or person, for that matter) has ever had an ego as massive as his. Anyone who ever met Bernie will tell you that he spends every moment of his life basking in the supreme glow of his own awesomeness. He is the greatest dog he ever met. It would never occur to Bernie that you or your dog might not want to give up your food, toys, and/or sanity for the privilege of spending time in his glorious presence, because he is absolutely certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the entire universe and all of creation revolves around HIM.

So consider this your seventy-two hour warning period. If you start running now, you may get out of the blast zone in time to avoid the worst of the fallout. As far as I know, his powers don't extend beyond the continental shelf, but I can't be sure. Sadly, a sight much like the images in the sequence below will be the last thing many people will ever see…