Washington Post Metro columnist Donna Britt came to town and had her say about Los Angeles in a Friday column. The email correspondent who called it to my attention wrote, "As a former Angeleno, now living in Maryland, this column from my local paper is one of the most offensive and ignorant things I've read about L.A. in a long time." You be the judge:

How could so much darkness flourish under so bright a sun?

L.A., which conservative types might insist stands for "Loose and Amoral," is the geographical source of much that horrifies -- and, frankly, delights -- the denizens of less tolerant communities: ultra-violent movies, sex-on-the-brain music and the type of colorful "literature" that stunned moms discover hidden in their teenagers' bottom drawers.

People are . . . different there. L.A.'s sledgehammer sun melted former Kentwood, La., resident Britney Spears's inhibitions to the point where she couldn't resist giving Madonna mouth-to-mouth career resuscitation. Janet Jackson lived there quietly for decades before the Santa Ana breezes whispered that the Super Bowl would be the perfect place for Justin to spring open her booby trap.

What other locale's suburbanites would tolerate the Adult Industry Medical Health Care Foundation (AIM) -- the place for America's favorite porn stars to get HIV testing -- on a middle-class thoroughfare, sandwiched between Enterprise Rent-a-Car and a religious gift shop?

She goes on to hang around the foundation offices and be amazed that porn people look like everybody else, then concludes: "It's different out there."