The Navy fired an unarmed missile from a submarine off the coast of Southern California on Saturday, creating a bright light that streaked across the state and was visible as far away as Nevada and Arizona.

A Navy spokesman told The San Diego Union-Tribune (http://bit.ly/1Qm74Sn ) the Navy Strategic Systems Programs conducted the missile test at sea Saturday from the USS Kentucky, a ballistic missile submarine.

Cmdr. Ryan Perry said the launches are conducted on a frequent basis to ensure the continued reliability of the system and that information about such test launches is classified prior to the launch.

The lack of information about the streak of light around sunset led to a flurry of calls to law enforcement agencies and lit up social media as people posted photos and video of the celestial sight.

Naval Missile Test Off California Creates Streaking Light (The New York Times)

The fruit of the Rambutan tree is fuzzy, red, and about the size of a golf ball. It’s native to Malaysia, but recently it has become a valuable crop in southern Mexico and Central America. People in Chiapas crack open the husks and snack on the semi-sweet white pulp everywhere—on the street, in cars, and on the small buses that go from town-to-town.

Rambután meets the music of Barry White

Want to know which Pet Shop Boys song I like the most? All of them. All of them, all of them, all of them. All of them except “It’s a Sin”, which is like “Love Shack” if Pet Shop Boys were the B-52’s. Another thing in this world that flusters me because I cannot understand its popularity.

The next time you find yourself forgetting the words to the song you are lip synching in an important cabaret act, just mouth the words watermelon, watermelon over and over until you remember. Only other fakers will know the difference. Unless you are in a Spanish speaking place. Then you should probably substitute guayava for watermelon lest you be discovered.

Has the summer's novelty song happened yet? So out of touch.

Disappointed a monsoon did not happen in my parts this hot afternoon, I distract myself by meditating on what Sade's 1985 single The Sweetest Taboo might sound like if interpreted by trained collies.

We thought we’d go to nearby beach Las Conchas for just a couple hours and then come home and get work done on weekend projects. The fresh ceviche tostadas and cold beer abided by our strict terms, but the sunburns took longer than expected and ultimately all we had time for when we got home was a nap.

The strong wind that has been blowing all week has stopped. Just like the cafe owner said it would.

As a child, I envied my kindergarten teacher’s overbite. Also, I interpreted my Sunday school teacher’s pock marks as proof of her ability to taste Big Mac flavors other people could not.

How effortlessly we forget the Spanish word for licorice.

Who needs sunglasses when sunglasses can be broken?