A great opener for a piece of Sully bait:

I’m in San Francisco today, where it is foggy and cool, and I’m irrationally expecting an earthquake at any minute. So the Virginian Pilot didn’t arrive on my doorstep for me to read at 5:30am, as it usually does. Instead I woke up at 10am Norfolk time and wandered out to drink Peet’s coffee and look at wealthy hippies.

One thing you notice: there are a lot of beards here. These guys are all beard-proud. I’ll get to the stories from the Pilot (which I did read online, eventually), but first, since I’m so far away, I’ll tell the story of How the Republicans Saved My Beard.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.