Where I live, about an hour from San Francisco, you have to think about getting earthquake insurance. I've always had it. But I looked into it again for our new house because the insurance is absurdly pricey. I learned, to my surprise, that most people in earthquake territory don't buy earthquake insurance. This made me wonder who the bigger fools were.

There are two popular schools of thought. One is that your house is (often) your biggest asset, and you can't take a chance of losing it. If you live in earthquake country, the odds of a Big One are high. Therefore, if you can afford the insurance, but can't afford to lose your home, you insure. And if you are only buying relief from your own worries, that's worth something too.

The other school of thought says that earthquake insurance is so pricey, and the deductibles are so high, there are only two realistic outcomes after the Big One:
  1. The earthquake damage is less than your deductible.
  2. The damage everywhere is so bad that your insurance company can't pay
Your earthquake insurance would only be useful in the event that your home was destroyed while your neighbors' homes were fine. You have to ask yourself what special risk your home has. If it was built recently, the answer is probably not much risk at all. In fact, I've never heard of a new home in the suburbs being destroyed by an earthquake. How do you calculate the odds of something that has never happened?

You could squirrel away a lot of savings by not paying for earthquake insurance for 30 years. That could add up to six figures. You have to include that money in your calculation when you compare how much you would lose if a quake smites your house.

Few companies offer earthquake insurance. That's a big red flag, since the business model mostly involves taking huge amounts of money from people and giving them nothing in return. I assume most insurers stay out of that field because they know that if there were massive earthquake losses, they would have bigger problems than a bad fiscal quarter. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Warren Buffett's insurance companies offer earthquake coverage. That means a lot of people who know more than you about insurance believe that Insurance companies can't even protect themselves if a big earthquake hits.

I give you a final data point before asking your opinion. We had a little 4.2 quake a few weeks ago. The neighbors felt a good wiggle in their homes. Our home, which has all the latest government-required anti-earthquake engineering, didn't move at all.

Would you buy earthquake insurance if you lived in California and your home was relatively new?

A lot of what passes as creativity is just combining things that aren't normally combined. For example, my parents are in town this week, at the same time the iPad was launched, which made me think a lot about the physical form that products take. And because of the iPad launch, there's a lot of talk about the iPhone too. At 6:30 AM, all of those ideas combined in my head, somewhat automatically, and I drew a comic in which Dilbert invents a cell phone in the form factor of an old man's head. You'll see it on March 23rd.

Comic characters work best when they have well-known mental flaws. Dilbert's flaw is that he sees the world in terms of function while being somewhat oblivious to things such as beauty and social convention. To Dilbert, a phone that looks like an old man's head has no obvious downside. Once I had the idea of a phone that looked like an old man's head, I imagined how each of the Dilbert characters would react to it, and I laughed to myself when I thought that Dilbert wouldn't see anything wrong with the idea. Creativity is the combining of wrong things. Art is recognizing the physical sensation that the wrong combination gives you. In this case, my own physical response to the idea told me it was a keeper. Your mileage might vary for this particular comic, as is always the case, but if I keep to the system, I'll get you sooner or later.

Someone asked me in a recent comment on this blog if I come up with the titles for my posts before I write them. Usually I do. If I can't capture the essence of my idea in a few words, it probably isn't worth writing. A title is a good first test of an idea's worthiness. (And more broadly, anything that can't be described briefly is probably a bad idea.)

But I often change my working title after I write a post. For example, my recent post titled "Like a Night Watchman" was originally titled "Into the Well." My first take at describing what it feels like to be a writer involved a well metaphor. I lower myself into the well, deeper and deeper, until all outside stimulation is gone. That's the best description of what it actually feels like to shut out the world. But the night watchman metaphor was more visual and seemed friendlier. Falling into a well is scary. I thought it would distract from the point. A big part of writing is removing distractions.