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Eventually, the rain will stop, the sun will peek out from behind the protective blanket of smog, and life as usual will resume. And just when we think we're finally safe, a new terror will visit itself on our fair city.

The View is coming to L.A.

Sure, they're trying to spin the visit as a "celebration," but we've already had a vision of what will certainly transpire: Star Jones-Reynolds wilding through the shops of Rodeo Drive, eating the livers of any unlucky enough to eyeball the same Prada bag. Elizabeth Hasselbeck feeding upon the babies of Santa Monica to nurture her own demon spawn. Barbara Walters' infernal chariot pulled down the Sunset Strip by a team of three-headed mongrels. And we're not even going to scare you with the fucked up shit that Joy Behar has in store, but suffice it to say that we have no idea how she's going to match a necklace made of penises with her shoes.

There will be no Oprah-style redemption for us; the screams will be "Everyone gets cancer!" rather than jubilation over shiny Pontiacs.

They'll be here in less than a month. That's plenty of time to burn down the city and save ourselves from a truly grisly fate.