One of my favorite jokes from Woody Allen's Annie Hall applies – This guy goes to a psychiatrist and says 'Doc, my brother's crazy, he thinks he's a chicken.' And the doctor says, 'Well why don't you turn him in?' And the guy says, 'I would, but I need the eggs.'
Anything goes on this 2-mile stretch, located just south of the sane Santa Monica Pier. You'll often find the dilated eyes of the psychedelically insane staring intensely and purposefully into the sun while cackling like a crucified witch. You'll discover yesterday's broken pelvis as today's botched kick-flip, and Europeans sunbathing with their Pomeranian while mockingly wearing our flag as a diaper. Whatever the niche, we all reconvene for another day of fear and loathing, because whether we can explain it or not, we need the eggs.