Earth Enters A New Geological Era: The ‘Pyrocene’

Los Angeles Ablaze: The ‘Pyrocene’ Is Here, and It’s Burning Up More Than Just Your Rent Money

Scientists warn we’re in the Fire Age, while LA residents wonder if they should just roast marshmallows on their car hoods

LOS ANGELESAs wildfires continue to ravage the West Coast like an overzealous influencer burning through their trust fund, experts have declared that humanity has officially entered the Pyrocene—a geologic age defined by relentless infernos. And no, it’s not just because Californians think a fire pit at every rooftop bar is a personality trait.

According to leading researchers, the Pyrocene is the “fire equivalent of an ice age,” which is a terrifying way of saying, “Congratulations, Earth! You’re now on ‘hard mode’!” Scientists cite massive wildfires fueled by climate change, deforestation, and humanity’s deep, inexplicable need to build cities in places that regularly try to kill them.

One Los Angeles firefighter summed it up: “It’s like every day is a Michael Bay movie, except I don’t get a million-dollar paycheck and a slow-motion walk-away scene.”


NOTE: Before the Pyrocene (our new fiery predicament), Earth went through several major geologic eras, each with its own flair. The Precambrian (4.6 billion–541 million years ago) was Earth’s lonely, lava-covered startup phase. The Paleozoic (541–252 million years ago) brought the first complex life—think trilobites and fish trying to figure out walking. The Mesozoic (252–66 million years ago) was the dino era, which ended with a bang. Finally, the Cenozoic (66 million years ago–present) saw mammals thrive, humans ruin everything, and now, apparently, everything catching fire. Welcome to the Pyrocene, where Earth’s new vibe is extra crispy.

How Did We Get Here? (Hint: It’s Our Fault, But We’ll Blame It on Something Else Anyway)

Humans have been lighting things on fire for centuries—sometimes for survival, sometimes for TikTok clout—but things have really escalated in recent years. The combination of rising global temperatures, extreme droughts, and urban sprawl has transformed the planet into a crispy buffet of flammable materials.

“We are creating the fire equivalent of an ice age,” says one environmental scientist. Which, if true, means we should expect to see Flame Mammoths and Charred Saber-Toothed Tigers in museums soon.

The Pyrocene is the fire equivalent of an ice age—which explains why my insurance premium is melting. – Katy Room

Of course, officials are responding with bold and decisive action:

  • California leaders have issued a strongly worded tweet.
  • A new PSA advises people to stop flicking lit cigarettes into dry brush.
  • Elon Musk has proposed launching the fires into space (presumably after he rebrands them ‘X-Flames’).

Meanwhile, the average resident just shrugs and buys another Welcome to Hell-A bumper sticker.


Fireproofing LA: Bold Strategies to Keep Things From Getting Too Crispy

Los Angeles officials are scrambling to find solutions before the city turns into a dystopian version of a BBQ cookout. Some proposals include:

  • Banning all fireworks, candles, and accidentally leaving your hair straightener on.
  • Releasing genetically modified fireproof squirrels to patrol dry brush areas.
  • A statewide “Stop, Drop, and Roll” training program for influencers who think a fire selfie is worth it.
  • Asking Mother Nature nicely to stop.

One city council member even suggested “just paving over all the forests,” but then remembered they already did that and called it Orange County.


The Hollywood Connection: Is This All a Marketing Ploy for a Disaster Movie?

The entertainment industry has taken note, with several film studios reportedly racing to trademark Pyrocene as the next big franchise. Rumored projects include:

🔥 Fast & Furious: Firestorm – Vin Diesel rides a flaming muscle car through a burning LA.
🔥 The Notebook 2: Love in the Ashes – A romantic drama where lovers must embrace before the embers do.
🔥 Marvel’s Pyrocene Wars – Features a villain who can control wildfires and also charges $25 for popcorn.

But perhaps the most realistic script is “California: We Should’ve Moved to Idaho.”


Survival Tips: How to Outlast the Pyrocene Without Looking Like a Well-Done Steak

To help citizens cope with their new fiery reality, experts suggest:

  • Carrying a fire extinguisher as a fashion accessory.
  • Learning to cook on your sidewalk to save on gas.
  • Investing in asbestos-themed athleisure wear.
  • Accepting that “smoky” will now be your home’s permanent aesthetic.

And for those still in denial, there’s always the classic LA response: “This is fine.”


Final Thoughts: Is Humanity Doomed, or Just Extra Crispy?

As the Pyrocene rages on, the world faces a choice: either address climate change with serious policy shifts or just start marketing everything as “fire-roasted.” Some say there’s still hope, while others note that when your city smells like a burnt quesadilla year-round, optimism is hard to come by.

Meanwhile, residents are adapting. “We just treat every day like Coachella now—constant heat, bad air quality, and people in denial,” says one LA local.

And if all else fails, at least the West Coast will finally get the beachfront property it’s always wanted.


Los Angeles Pyrocine -- A humorous illustration of a firefighter holding a 'Fire Season Never Ends' calendar while a group of influencers take selfies in -- Bohiney.com3
Los Angeles Pyrocene — A humorous illustration of a firefighter holding a ‘Fire Season Never Ends’ calendar while a group of influencers take selfies in — Bohiney.com

We are creating the fire equivalent of an ice age’: Humans have plunged Earth into the “Pyrocene”

  1. Scientists say we’re in the Pyrocene, aka the ‘Fire Age.’ California just calls it ‘Tuesday.’
  2. It’s so hot in LA, my rent just spontaneously combusted.
  3. Climate change is getting so bad, even dragons are like, ‘This is excessive.’
  4. California wildfires are the only thing spreading faster than conspiracy theories on Facebook.
  5. I tried roasting marshmallows on the sidewalk. They evaporated.
  6. The only safe place from wildfires is underwater—so I just bought a condo in Atlantis.
  7. At this rate, ‘fire season’ will just be called ‘the entire calendar year.’
  8. Experts recommend fireproofing your home. Or, as my landlord calls it, ‘Not my problem.’
  9. Welcome to the Pyrocene: We don’t have winter anymore, just ‘Less Fire’ and ‘More Fire.’
  10. The forecast says ‘partly cloudy with a chance of spontaneous combustion.’
  11. I told my boss I was late because of the wildfires. He said, ‘Yeah, but did you log in remotely?’
  12. It’s so hot, I saw a squirrel using SPF 50.
  13. My neighbor installed sprinklers on his house. I just taped an apology note to the nearest tree.
  14. At this point, the only thing stopping LA from burning down is that there’s nothing left to burn.
Los Angeles -- A illustration of a Los Angeles news anchor reporting on record-breaking heat while sitting in a melting chair, sweat dr-- Bohiney.com6
Los Angeles Pyrocene — A illustration of a Los Angeles news anchor reporting on record-breaking heat while sitting in a melting chair, sweat dr– Bohiney.com
Los Angeles Pyrocene -- A illustration of Los Angeles engulfed in flames, with people casually roasting marshmallows on the sidewalks and a bill-- Bohiney.com4
Los Angeles Pyrocene — A illustration of Los Angeles engulfed in flames, with people casually roasting marshmallows on the sidewalks and a bill– Bohiney.com
Los Angeles Pyrocene -- A illustration of Los Angeles engulfed in flames, with people casually roasting marshmallows on the sidewalks and a bill-- Bohiney.com2
Los Angeles Pyrocene — A illustration of Los Angeles engulfed in flames, with people casually roasting marshmallows on the sidewalks and a bill– Bohiney.com

By Signe Wilkinson

Signe Wilkinson was born in Durant, Oklahoma, a place where sharp humor often bubbled up between church socials and town hall meetings. After studying fine arts and political science at the University of Oklahoma, she fused those disciplines into a career that made her one of America’s most distinctive satirical voices. Now based in Washington, D.C., Wilkinson is celebrated for her incisive editorial cartoons and essays that expose the hypocrisies of politics and culture with both wit and clarity. Her work has been archived in major journalism institutions, cited in university courses on satire as democratic critique, and featured on panels examining freedom of expression. Known for pairing biting humor with compassion, she transforms local observation into national commentary. From Durant to D.C., Wilkinson shows that satire is democracy’s sketchbook and scalpel.