
By T. Craig
If you know Los Angeles, then you know what you're seeing on TV is stunnng to say the least. If one were to need special effects for an epic disaster movie about fires torching the mountains of beautiful Malibu, the Pallasades and other well-known enclaves, the real video being captured each day will do the trick. But that's the horror of it all. Los Angeles is burning. Again. And while wildfires are nothing new to California, this one feels different. Bigger. More devastating. More urgent. For those of us in the entertainment business, who have built careers watching the world through a lens—this isn’t just another climate crisis story. It’s a disaster that hits home, quite literally.
The exact cause of the fires raging through Los Angeles is still under investigation, but one thing is certain: California’s climate—hotter, drier, and increasingly unpredictable—is fueling their rapid spread. So far, at least 24 lives have been lost. Over 40,000 acres—an area larger than San Francisco—have been reduced to ash. Entire communities have been erased, with more than 12,300 structures destroyed. The air is thick with toxic smoke from burning homes, cars, plastics, and chemicals. Millions are breathing in a lethal cocktail of pollutants, a grim reminder that climate change isn’t just about rising sea levels and melting glaciers—it’s about survival, here and now.

California Governor Gavin Newsom called it potentially the worst natural disaster in U.S. history in terms of financial loss. The Governor was on the ground looking at the damage, speaking to experts and residents alike. AccuWeather estimates the damages will exceed $275 billion. But how do you put a price on lives lost, homes destroyed, and futures shattered? Impossible.

Once upon a time, wildfires had a season. Not anymore. This is the first time in recorded history that LA has experienced “extremely critical” fire weather in January. According to meteorologists, this unprecedented fire risk is driven by a deadly mix of high temperatures, strong Santa Ana winds, and drought-stricken vegetation.

The National Weather Service defines ‘extremely critical’ fire weather as sustained winds over 30 mph, relative humidity below 10%, and temperatures above 70 degrees—all in the presence of extreme drought. This combination has never been seen in the U.S. in January—until now.
UCLA geography professor Glen MacDonald put it bluntly: “The idea of a fire season in Southern California is obsolete. You can have a fire any month of the year.”
Drought & Climate Change Arsonist-in-Chief
The fires started on January 7, after Los Angeles County endured its hottest summer in at least 130 years. Since last May, the region has received a pitiful 0.16 inches of rain.
Southern California is parched. Nearly 2.2 million people are living under drought conditions, with soil moisture at historic lows. When vegetation dries out, it becomes the perfect fuel. A single spark—whether from a downed power line, a careless cigarette, or an errant ember—can set off an inferno. And once it starts, it spreads uncontrollably.
If you still think climate change is some abstract future problem, look around. Wildfires in North America have more than doubled in frequency and intensity over the last two decades. Rising global temperatures are drying out vegetation, lowering humidity, and extending fire seasons.

The statistics are staggering:
The average wildfire season in the Western U.S. is now 105 days longer than it was in the 1970s.
Fires burn six times as many acres as they did just a few decades ago.
19 of California’s 20 largest wildfires have occurred since 2003—half of them in the past five years.
Research shows a 172% increase in burned areas in California since the 1970s.
Climate change isn’t just making wildfires worse; it’s rewriting the rulebook. The fires are bigger, faster, and deadlier. They strike earlier and burn longer. And they’re not just a California problem. Canada, Greece, Australia—wildfire disasters are happening everywhere, with increasing frequency.
This Isn’t a Drill
For those of us in media, we document, analyze, and sometimes even dramatize these disasters on screen. But this is real life, not a movie set. The planet is in crisis, and Los Angeles is the latest casualty.
How much more devastation do we need before we act? How many more lives must be lost before we acknowledge the truth? Climate change isn’t coming. It’s here. And if we don’t take it seriously, we’ll all be watching the world burn—through smoke-filled skies instead of camera lenses.
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