Few people can carry it off as well as he can; fewer people can make so many comebacks. It's like trying to stop a Panzer tank with a broom.

But, today is Ditmar's birthday, and he looks great at sixty three. A long stream of well-wishers filed into his D-Bar today even though the official birthday party won't be announced until tomorrow, when Southern Wine and Spirits unveils the invitation. I love formalities like that, because it is so like The Queen of England: there is the actual birthday and there is the official one. In the end, there's not much difference between the two of them, except Elizabeth would never were a white Speedo on a Saturday afternoon without pearls.

We had so many margaritas that it made me wonder where Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish has been. The last I saw of the dear lady, she was hiding a silver butter knife up her gloves in order to cut through her arm restraints at "the home". I may have to order a rescue mission.

D-Bar has taken on the decor of something between your Aunt Sadie's parlor and a whorehouse, which fits right in with most of our lifestyles (at least those of us fortunate enough to afford luxuries like that). It's not easy being cheap on South Beach.