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Our very own Daily Pilot has arrived in the videocyberwebtube future.

Newport Beach. We like to think we're Breakfast at Tiffany's, but we're really Waiting for Guffman.

I met with Bob at Kean today so I could order a new automatic clutch for his Whizzer. (No, really!)

The patio was packed with moms and babies because the new expensive baby food store was having a grand opening Halloween event.

"Expensive baby food store" falls short of the mark. "Pomme Bébé" looks at first to be a high-end salon, art gallery, and Apple Store in one spot. Whiteness gleams tastefully. Sheer ivory surfaces, smock-clad employees, menu of the day in the style of an ice cream store. They sell organic and otherwise perfect food for infants.

So as Bob and I ordered bike parts on the Internet and bullshitted and played with his dog Mancha, this river of super-rich mothers flowed. They were all 20 and perfect forever, and their babies were all 6 months old and perfect forever. The baby carriages themselves were worth more than my car. They stretch across the sidewalk and have racks and racks of toys clacking above their passengers. More than a few were double wides with twin skulls bobbling in them.

Mancha slumped on our feet in a heavily adoring way and we skritched him. My iced tea was good.

I went to two doctors today, both for minor reasons. Both at Newport Center.

These doctors' offices are full of very old, tremulously decrepit white men in cheerful retirement clothing. They're in aloha shirts and khaki shorts and running shoes, slowly dying.

The parking lot has a very low clearance. This results in comedy with SUVs. One patient made it in driving a Suburban; another with slightly larger tires did not, providing a condensed symbol of the Californian relationship with cars and a satisfying crunchy noise.

The pharmaceutical rep in the waiting room was qualified as a fashion model: almost six foot, slender, leggy, cheekboned and coiffed. Thieves and murderers always send out the best courtesans.

I did not buy the pigurines in the pharmacy window.

Southern California this week is going to be a dangerous and painful furnace. Today it was 120° in Indio (desert town). The emergency services people have put out a dire bulletin advising people to be careful of the high temperatures and unusually high humidity, and not to leave old people, children, or animals in cars, and for chrissakes don't die of the heat.

Meanwhile, the report ends with this:

ONSHORE FLOW AND A MARINE LAYER INFLUENCE WILL KEEP TEMPERATURES
FAIRLY MILD ON THE COASTAL PLAIN...GENERALLY IN THE 70S AND
80S...EXCEPT 60S ON THE BEACHES.

Thank you, Dad, for buying a house in Paradise 40 years ago.