Never bring up religion, politics, or pizza in polite conversation. Not only does it invite bad blood, but you’re as likely to bring others to your camp as you are to forge peace among all nations. Pizza’s no stranger to being loosely interpreted, and each variation has its own rabid defenders of the faith. Where in the pizza spectrum does culty, love-it-or-hate-it Pink’s fall? Pink’s, with its shabby seating and bubbly menu font from 1981? Pink’s, which also runs the dubious Asian fusion “bistro” Dragon Bowl? Its wimpy convection oven won’t draw the occultists who worship a 900-degree fire, nor the coal-burning defectors. Perhaps it will attract the atheists, who declare that no one knows how to use either properly, anyway.

Regardless, Pink’s seems perfectly happy to stay out of these arguments with a crust that is doughy and pretty bland, but that supports often delicious ingredients. Tomato sauce is on the sweet side, but cheese is, refreshingly, restrained. A “Classic” will come with feta, Pecorino Romano, fresh mozzarella, Roma tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, and plenty of garlic; all evenly dispersed in an egalitarian jubilee of flavors. The “Santa Monica” (Gorgonzola, prosciutto, eggplant, artichoke, cranberries, and an olive oil base) is fun and carefree, like its namesake city. In fact, maybe Pink’s is that guy who roller-skates up and down Venice Beach in a gold lamé thong, with a winged helmet and a boom box, amusing some and disgusting others as he blissfully does his own thing, unaware of any discord.