BEACHBLOGGER: In Santa Monica (CA) this week. Currently camped out in a Starbucks on the 3rd Street Promenade, with blazing loud classical music pouring out on my head. As far as I can determine this little neighborhood is all about Eurasian tourists and homeless folk.

Got to watch some of the Inaugural from my hotel room today. Most indelible images (for me) were the so-called protesters who saw fit to fly the bird and yell "Fuck You" at the presidential motorcade. Pathetic.

I know, I know, there are nutbirds on both sides of the fence. Sad for what was my party that the face of the opposition (read "Democrats, sadly) has become these anarchistic, anti-American, disrespectful, politics-as-fashion fucknuts who, somewhere in their depraved DNA, equate protest with profanity. James Dobson, that Focus on the Family zealot, appeared balanced, bright, and downright huggable on his network interview, especially in contrast to the finger-flyers.

Bunch of "street teams" working the street (where else) for this new show, NUMB3RS. I think it's a show. I wish one of 'em would come up to me and give me their swag...I mean, c'mon, I must be one of the only non-Eurasian tourists and/or homeless people anywhere in the vicinity. Maybe the laptop-on-lap look doesn't make me appear particularly receptive to solicitation. Plus I'm tired and a little sick, so I'm pallid and grey-eyed. I *am* wearing my snazzy new french-cuff shirt atop some niiiize Lucky jeans, so I have that going for me. But apparently my greyness overwhelms my couture.

God Bless America. Good luck, 43. You're gonna need it.