James writes:
Last time I wrote you about the hot chicks at the AA meeting. This time my walk and ride along the beach was more troubling. First, I am walking to the beach to check the waves and commune with the ocean and a group of guys is in a circle next to a park with lots of young kids. It was a sex addicts meeting – I imagine Vicki Polin and her crew would have a field day with that proximity. In my mind, I doubt anyone would try to prey on a kid under the watchful eye of a westside mom. Heck, one time I think i picked up a kid’s shovel so my kid could play with it and the other kid’s mom almost had me indicted. Now, here is some psycho babble I do not get. Here are a group of dudes who look like they could all use a little bit of a workout who are labeled as addicts and 50 yards away are tons of grown men in wetsuits surfing, like they are adolescents – there was not a single surfer with over 50% of his hair on his head. The break was mushy (it made the C street break in ventura look tubular) and these guys were falling down all over the place like they were surfing pipeline. In my mind, both are addicts. The surfers are addicted to surfing, the sex addicts are addicted to surfing the net for sex. One is applauded by society, the other one just makes for great TV on MSNBC (gotta love the indian dude who looked like john madden’s ass thinking some 14 year old blonde chick was gonna do the bonedance with him). How sitting around a group of fellow addicts helps does not really make sense. You want my advice – you are an addict (to anything) – the next time you want a drink or prey on someone sexually and it is during the day, get your wetsuit on and go surf – you won’t have to sit in a circle on the beach and you may get laid, which is what sex addicts and alcoholics probably need. If it is at night, I guess you can go play chess at a cafe or something else that is addictive but has no _______’s anonymous associated with it. Then, later, a black guy was belt whipping his child in plain view. Someone called the cops and the black guy, using all the brains god gave him and then some, kept his belt off and in his hand. Santa Monica’s finest showed up in about 10 seconds to arrest this errant father. Then I saw an orthodox lady trying to navigate a double stroller down the beach and her son was crying. The son had gotten a splinter and I helped take it out. Would someone inform the city of santa monica that instead of spending money on cops so that three squad cars come an arrest an abusive father, they should pave walkways all the way to the sand? I then jogged the famous santa monica fourth street steps and saw more hot woman than you might see at Friday Night Live during all of eternity. I will run those stairs again, it is a much better locus for hot chicks than AA meetings.
