Dorks in the news!

WaPo profiles the new Archivist of Amer'ca. Controversial? Only somewhat. What's a bigger problem is the fact that Bush fired the previous Archivist without the required explanation to Congress.

Highlight of the article:

If the Smithsonian is the nation's attic, the Archives is the nation's sock
drawer.

Suck it NARA! (Just kiddin' baby. You know Ike loves you. He loves you baby.)

Funny Dreams

I woke up smiling in the middle of the night. Having just dreamt that a closing Metro door had sliced off the arms of a tourist who was holding the door for his fat children. On a positive Metro note, Metro has placed a station agent at the bottom of the Smithsonian escalators to tell tourists to keep moving so they don't get crushed by their ignorant brethren.

And DCist has noticed that its tourist season.

Harvesting the Vegetables

Schiavo kicked the bucket this morning. Maybe my own feelings of disgust at American culture can go away now also.

Of course this is all just politics:

The case raised an issue that "transcends politics," Jeb Bush said. "How we
deal with life itself -- I mean, the beginning of life and the end of life -- is
something that I think we need to learn how to do better."

Disgusting.

And You Thought They Were Protesting Before.

It sounds like Wolfie is going to bethe next head of the World Bank. Frankly, I am of two mind on this one. Yes, he is the same hawkish neo-con who fed us lies to prevent our citizen army from getting lazy and has led to the deaths of over a thousand Americans. Yes, I believe that is a bad thing. But I have this strange feeling that Wolfie might be just the firebrand that the World Bank needs to make a serious impact on world poverty. Call it a strange hunch. (And look to the odd precedent set by Secretary of War Robert "Bomb the shit out of Southeast Asia" McNamara)

I also could be completely wrong, and Wolfie could turn the World Bank into the next colonial power, a la the British East India Company.

Zippy Cars

You've seen 'em around. They're always there by the Metro entrance looking all shiny and clean. Even in trend setting Columbia Heights, I don't know anyone who uses them. But according to WaPo, Zipcar is getting it done.

It sounds like a wonderful concept. You sign-up with either Zipcar or Flexcar and then you can go and rent the cars by the hour whenever you need. Gas and insurance are included in the hourly fee ($8.50 for Zipcar). Still sounds like a great idea to me.

But F-bomb, does this mean you are going to give up your sexy Echo? Shit no!

Despite the hassles of parking in C-Heights, and the cost of insurance, and the rising price of gas, I agree with a bulk of Americans who feel that owning their own car gives them an important sense of independence. If I want to haul myself out to the Shenandoah to go hiking, I don't want to shell out $120 bucks for the weekend. This whole rental thing is still not efficient enough for those of us who want to take them out of the city for a cheap weekend getaway.

But please, if you live in C-Heights, please sell off your car and sign up now!

Ummmm, Thank You Y-Chromosome

Sometimes its just better to be a guy. Courtesy of Kentucky Fried Adventures. This may also make me uncomfortably squeamish for the rest of the day. Maybe week.

Hipsters blow me.

Have you been finding out about secret 9:30 Club presales at the last second (think Wilco, think Interpol)? Well apparently, its so that only "true fans" buy the tickets. This and much more over at DCist. Here is the only excuse put forward:

The 9:30 is purposely releasing tickets for sale on the quiet, it's to benefit
the more rabid fans. I have no problem with people passing along the information
that tickets on sale as long as its done privately via email... Posting on a
public website that tickets are being sold on the quiet defeats the purpose of
selling tickets in that manner in the first place.-kosmo vinyl

Oh, in case you're confused, don't worry, it doesn't make any sense. It sounds like a lame attempt to let a small group of people label themselves as superior to those of us who can't troll around all day checking on new shows. Kids, we're not in Brooklyn anymore.

DCeiver, I salute your noble efforts to ridicule elitest assholes everywhere.

Its Tourist Hunting Season

As if you hadn't noticed all the stupid people running around the Metro system. You should come down to the Mall. I was in at least six family photos yesterday. That I know of. (On a side note, do you ever wonder what people think when they get home and they see a random dude in their photos?)

Spring break is just starting, and the chaperoned groups of middle/high schoolers are already getting to me. I don't know if I could survive another summer. The crowds of hormonal morons are swarming to see the Cherry Blossoms. Too bad for them its cold, rainy, and blossom free outside. There's some nice witchhazel blooming outside my building, but its not quite the same.

The highlight of tourist hunting season is watching the locals interact with people who come from places where "common sense" and "courtesy" mean don't urinate on other people. The commute yesterday witnessed an amazing episode between a woman standing to the left(with small child and rolling bag) and a line of commuters on the escalator at Metro Center.

Commuter 1: Pardon me, move to the right.
Stupid Tourist: Excuse me?
C1: Move over so that your fat ass doesn't block the way.
ST: I was here first!
C1: GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY!
ST: Fuck you!
C2: Move over you fucking moron!
C3: That's my goddamn train!
ST: (as she moves over) Fucking fuck fuckers! Fuck fuck!
C1: (as he passes ST) Stupid bitch.
C2: (as she passes ST) Get some common courtesy.
C3: (as he passes ST and sees his train pulling away) You are fucking useless!

Then as the entire line of people pass her by, she continues screaming profanities at the top of her lungs. I feel bad for the kid. Usually you don't have to hear your parents publicly belittled like that until you're a little older.

Any great stories that you want to share?

Sign me up!

Sweet, three new magazines to subscribe too, all focusing on the lifestyles of wealthy Washingtonians! I already treat the Washingtonian like my Bible, but who can't else can't get their fill of luxury magazines that show how DC's rich and richer spend their not-so-hard-earned cash?

They even have the perfect target audience:

"The beauty of those caption magazines is people who are in it will buy it," he
said. "And those who want to be in it will buy it."

AKA the douche bags and the people who are too poor or too boring to be douche bags. Where can I sign up?

Winningest quote from the article: "Celebrity is the sex of the 21st century as we become a more voyeuristic society," said Husni, chairman of the university's journalism department. "And where is there a better place to be a voyeur than in D.C.?"

Humping Like Rabbits

So I was "getting in the mood" this weekend, when I started wondering what the hell a fuzzy bunny and chicken eggs had to do with the resurrection of the J-dog, our lord and savior. For the life of me, I couldn't figure it out. When I pressed for an explanation, I blurted something out about pagans and fertility.

Guess what?

I was so right. From Easter-traditions.com:

The first documented use of the bunny as a symbol of Easter appears in Germany
in the 1500s; although the actual matching of the holiday and the hare was
probably a much earlier folk tradition. Not surprisingly, it was also the
Germans who made the first edible Easter Bunnies in the 1800s.

Apparently some hardcore fundies think that we shouldn't be celebrating such a pagan holiday.

And just for fun, test your Easter knowledge!

Getting to the point.

First, let me thank Jake for reminding me that I needed to read Gene Weingarten's chat transcript. Let me then also provide his take on the Schiavo case

"Gene Weingarten: My initial reader poll for today was going to be this: A. The actions of congress, the president, and the governor of Florida in the case of Terri Schiavo are:
1. Admirable acts of conscience that are vital to a respect for the sanctity of life.
2. Severely misguided acts, but ones done with the best of intentions.
3. Grotesuely hypocritical, politically motivated, wildly demagogic acts by individuals who will happily kill thousands in an immoral war, who will pooh-pooh torture, reward the architects of both the war and the torture with medals and promotions, and who will enthusiastically condone the death penalty. Their actions in this case may well result in their roasting in in Hell, if there is a Hell, which there may or may not be. We are not sure because we are not complete religious fanatics but normal, moral, confused, decent people trying to make sense of a difficult world, noble and honest in our uncertainty. I decided not to do that, because it would seem too extreme. We must be more restrained.

"Gene Weingarten: Has anyone raised the possibility that -- in the wildly unlikely case that this poor woman does in fact have some consciousness -- that what she is most likely thinking is KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME, and that, to her, those trying to save her life are foul beasts and tormenters? I mean, if you were one hundred percent trapped inside your own brain for 12 years, don't you think that would be YOUR state of mind? But don't get me started."

Sometimes humor is light and funny. Sometimes we need it just to survive in an irrational world that we can't comprehend. Maybe sometimes its not even funny.

Like Crack In A Bottle

How I went almost two months without trying it, I don't know, but last night at The Big Hunt there was a young lady pushing free samples of Budweiser's new B^E (pronounced B-to-the-E for those of you who can't handle the algebra). If you didn't say "no" quick enough, she dropped the 10 oz. bottle right in front of you. How could I not give it a try?*

My first impression was "Wow, this is no where near as bad as I had imagined!" It tasted just like a Stoli Raspberry and tonic, not bad at all. There was no overpowering sweetness or nasty aftertaste like you get with a Red Bull. It also didn't pack the punch of a Red Bull and vodka. No twitching or irregular heartbeats with this gentle energy drink. It also is not something that I see myself ever buying in a bar. It really falls into that nether world of not-beer-but-not-mixed-drink. Just for the record, I don't do wine-coolers either.

The bottom line is that B^E is not as foul as you would expect. Most of the people here seemed to like it as well. If you are looking for something a little sweet with a little alcohol and a little caffeine, go for it.


*As we gingerly tested our B^Es, the question was raised does Budweiser reimburse bars for the free samples, seeing how I ordered one less beer because I had a bottle already in front of me? Or do the bars see it as a way to build a customer base, and just eat the loss?

Gentrification Not Finished Yet.

Even if its touted as the next up and coming neighborhood, Columbia Heights still has a long way to go. Its tragic to see something like this happen so close to home:

A 9-year-old boy was shot in the face and critically wounded last night as he
played with other children on a sidewalk outside an apartment building in
Northwest Washington, D.C. police said.

Investigators said a man
standing on a corner started firing a handgun down the 2600 block of 13th Street
in the Columbia Heights area about 9:50 p.m., in the direction of several
children. Police were trying to determine whether he had been shooting at
someone other than the children. About a half-dozen shell casings were found at
the scene.

It makes me question what the hell is going on in the neighborhood, that someone can just fire off their gun down a relatively busy street. One thing that I know for sure, I won't be playing out in the front yard any time soon.

A Vacation Without A Vacation

House-sitting is nice. There is something about living in the "ancestral" home without having to interact with the 'rents that is quite calming. Perhaps its the serene beauty of the Palisades. Perhaps it is the onset of spring. I think that its more the fact that I get to return to the house I grew up in instead of having to deal with the housemates, messes, and cats that make my current group house so...special. Oh yeah, a fully stocked kitchen and pantry isn't bad either.

I house-sat once before, outside of Boston for an entire summer. A friend needed some company watching over a house in her old home town, and I was more than happy to help out in exchange for free living. But it turned out to be pretty stressful, having to always be mindful of the owner's stuff, and never knowing where anything was. None of those worries come into play in the parents' home. Because its my home too. All of the stuff in it? Mine. If I break something? Well shoot, they'll have to keep on loving me.

Of course there is a downside. I have to take that crap-heap masquerading as the Red-Line. I had almost forgotten how no one who lives along the Great White Corridor of the Red Line has any manners at all. People pushing and shoving for the honor of stopping just inside the door and prevent anyone else from getting to all of the open space in the middle of the car. It makes the Green Line look down right neighborly. Aside from the commute, I had forgotten how out of the way the house is. Sure, in a car its just a quick drive to just about anywhere, but how many of my friends own cars in this city? Yup, not too many visitors dropping in unexpectedly. Finally, most of my stuff is in _my_ house. I hope that my co-workers don't comment on how my wardrobe can fit into an overnight bag.

I will end this ramble with the things that are making me very happy to be home. Its clean, as only a mother can clean. It has a beautiful kitchen in which I can cook good food (Chicken Paprikash was on the menu last night). Netflix. The Acura (not that I don't love my Echo, but come on now, the parents are gone). Oh yeah, and I can throw the parties that I never did in high school without worrying about getting grounded. Sweet.

Gee Whiz, Ya Think?

Stripped from the headlines of the Post:

Tall Players Are Reshaping Game
Women's Front-Court Skills Evolving Fast

wait, there's more:

Today's centers are no longer stuck taking up space underneath the basket. They
are developing a range of low-post moves beyond playing with their back to the
basket or making layups and putbacks.

This may be a question of the chicken or the egg, but I think that I found the answer to why most people don't watch women's basketball. Maybe the networks should wait until women have developed these skills even more before they take air time away from repeats of 1992's World's Strongest Man Competition.

Death is another form of persistent vegetative state, or let her die with dignity

It touches a little close to politics and all things serious, but all of the news coverage of The Schiavo right-to-die case has touched a nerve. In case you have missed out on what is happening (perhaps a little less Michael Jackson/Court TV for you), here is a nice recap and timeline courtesy of the BBC. For the latest, WaPo provides an article covering the current court actions

Now, after seven years of court arguments, and 8 removals of her feeding tube, Congress has finally decided that they can toss this red-meat issue to their right-wing pro-lifers. Unfortunately, this goes against almost everything that the Republican Party says it stands for (state's rights, small government, sanctity of marriage, not being fascists...). Too bad they are raging hypocrites. Reading about how they stayed up all night writing this bill to force their ideas upon a woman, who is no longer in a state to actually tell them what she wants, disgusts me. I hope that it disgusts you too.

More in:

Dr. (and Congressman) Weldon's request to examine Ms. Schiavo, the
brain-damaged Florida woman at the center of a national debate, is perhaps the
most extreme example of how some doctors in Congress have exercised their
medical judgment in the case. At least three remarked on her condition without
examining her, basing their opinions on court affidavits, videotape or both. In
addition to the comments by Dr. Frist and Dr. Weldon, Representative Phil
Gingrey, a Georgia Republican and an obstetrician, contended in a House debate
that Ms. Schiavo could improve "with proper treatment, now denied."

The good news is that now we no longer ever need to see a doctor. Just send in a five minute video clip, and they can make a perfectly sound medical judgement about your health!

Apparently, I am not alone in being turned off by the Republicans' involvement in this case, as an ABC poll shows

63 percent of people said they supported the decision to remove Schiavo's
feeding tube; 78 percent said they would not want to live under similar
conditions; 70 percent of people said they were opposed to Congress's
involvement; 67 percent said Congress was more concerned with politics than
Schiavo's well being.(courtesy of Terry Neal)

Hopefully these numbers will mean something to our elected politicians as
well, many of whom (even Republicans) are apparently already
struggling with how out of step this is with any sort of reading of the
Constitution:

"This is a clash between the social conservatives and the process conservatives, and I would count myself a process conservative," said David Davenport of the Hoover Institute, a conservative research organization. "When a case like this has been heard by 19 judges in six courts and it's been appealed to the Supreme Court three times, the process has worked - even if it hasn't given the result that the social conservatives want. For Congress to step in really is a violation of federalism."
Stephen Moore, a conservative advocate who is president of the Free Enterprise Fund, said: "I don't normally like to see the federal government intervening in a situation like this, which I think should be resolved ultimately by the family: I think states' rights should take precedence over federal intervention. A lot of conservatives are really struggling with this case."
Some more moderate Republicans are also uneasy. Senator John W. Warner of Virginia, the sole Republican to oppose the Schiavo bill in a voice vote in the Senate, said: "This senator has learned from many years you've got to separate your own emotions from the duty to support the Constitution of this country. These are fundamental principles of federalism."

Where Are the Images of War?

Two years ago this week, the Iraqi War began. I remember this time vividly, as I would stumble home from my thesis carrel late at night after hours of mind-numbing reading, writing, and editing. When I would get home at 2 in the morning, I would make myself some dinner and then curl up on the couch and watch the unfolding coverage of the invasion. I was alone in my house, and practically alone on campus (it was spring break), with only the soft voice of Anderson Cooper to tell me what was going on in the outside world.

Night after night, I would watch the images sent back from Iraq over choppy satellite feeds as I unwound from a day thesis-stress. In the beginning, I was enthralled with the images, but slowly, they began blurring together, as one shot after another flickered across the screen. Now two years later, I couldn't possibly begin to count how many pictures and video clips I have absorbed. Still those images of the first days have stayed with me, as memories of my own life if nothing more meaningful.

Recently, I have been struck more and more of the uncaptivating nature of the published photographs depicting the conflict. They seem to offer little to add to the conflicting reports of progress or distress that I read about Iraq. Sunday's Post really brought it to my mind when it published Waiting for a Clear Picture To Emerge by Philip Kennicott. Where are the images that capture the mind of the public? Since photographers began documenting conflicts with the American Civil War, images have been the most powerful medium for conveying conflicts, and yet today,

"We like to tell ourselves that suggesting can be more powerful than showing,
that the same poetic concentration that occurs in linguistic metonymy also
applies in the photographic kind. If nothing else, it deflects the argument that
by not showing the graphic truth of the war, journalists are shirking their
responsibility to full coverage. If the tastefully allusive image is, like
poetic metonymy, more powerful than the straightforward image, then no essential
truth has been shaded or suppressed.

But it's not clear that this is
true. The most powerful photographs of war -- Eddie Adams's Pulitzer-prize
winning photograph of a Viet Cong prisoner executed on a street, Robert Capa's
image of a Republican soldier felled in the Spanish Civil War -- remain ones
that show directly the moment of death, the destruction of the body or the
mortal remains. By contrast, the metonymic images of this war are becoming
thinner, more generic, rather than denser and more intense. They fall into
categories -- man weeping, car burning, women running, soldiers patrolling --
without any single image rising above the lot."

Today however, we just don't have any images of the Iraq War that are as powerful as Nick Ut's Napalm Strike, Rosenthal's Raising the Flag over Iwo Jima, or Capa's image from the Spanish Civil War, and I wonder why. Is it because we as American's don't yet share an understanding of what this war means to our society? Or are newspapers too concerned about FCC fines to publish images that might be considered too graphic? Or do we just need to wait a little longer to find the image that will crystallize our understanding of this conflict?

Thoughts From A Sunday Morning

-Its time to throw away my brackets. My first hint came with the Syracuse loss on Friday. West Virginia defeating Wake Forest in double-overtime just sealed the deal. I love March Madness. Two big upsides to all of this: 1. I feel much better for not having entered any pools this year; 2. I am now free to cheer for anybody without feeling like I am betraying my picks. Let's go Mountaineers!

-Haircuts are really traumatic. I got my semi-annual cut yesterday morning, and I think that it is scarier than the dentist's office. I blame my mother entirely for these feelings. She cut my hair until I was 7 or 8, and, without fail, she would "joke" that she had accidentally chopped off my ear. Not funny to a little kid with huge ears. Then, when I had finally convinced her to let me go to a barbershop, the barber told me he cut my ear by accident! That's just cruel.

-The staff at the Apple store are very helpful. With my only prompt being "Tell me about the differences between the iBook and the Powerbook," the sales woman told me that I would be better off taking the money that I would save by buying the iBook and pumping in a few upgrades. Problem solved.

Springtime's a comin'

Ahhh, I can smell it in the air. Even though its still in the 50s outside, spring is starting to make itself felt. As always, the crocuses are the first to bloom after a looong winter. Hopefully the daffodils are not far behind.

"Prep" Part Deux

I finished "Prep" last night. It was good. Curtis Sittenfeld has a way with the words, if you know what I mean. The main character "Lee" really gets fleshed out in all her adolescent insecurity. The prep school, does not get fleshed out in such a meaningful fashion. Upon completion, I had to sit there and wonder about what I had just read. What was the book about. I suspect that it was supposed to be a critique of sorts about both the positive and negative aspects of life at hoity-toity boarding schools. It wasn't though.

The book never delves into life at a boarding. Descriptions always come up in passing, but never in the level of detail needed to make a strong statement. Its always, "Oh, I heard she got kicked out for doing coke." or "It was rumored that the professor had once had an affair with a student." Nothing more. The book could have been set in a non-boarding school, or maybe even a college, and not much would have changed.

Perhaps, Prep is less about boarding school, and more a coming of age story. This would more accurately prepare a reader for what was to come, but again, it doesn't do justice to the story. I expect a coming of age story to have a dramatic climax where the main character is forced to confront her own shortcomings before discovering how to overcome them. That never happens in the story. In fact, Lee is not that different when she arrives as when she leaves prep school. There are realizations that she has made about life, but nothing that makes me as a reader take away a lesson with any deep meaning.

A strong effort with excellent writing, but Ms. Sittenfeld needs to find some thematic poise if she wants more than her prose to carry her novels.

I Am Reading Trash.

I shouldn't say that. I am in fact reading Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld. I am only halfway through it, but unless it takes a quick turn, I can't honestly call it trash. Maybe fluff. Its actually a fairly modest look at prep school life, with none of the sex or drugs of say I Am Charlotte Simmons.

Is this a good thing? I don't know. So far the novel is an interesting story about a mid-western girl who goes away to a pretentious boarding school (clearly based on Andover). She serves as an excellent foil for examining the life of the children of the rich and powerful; at once she is an insider with access to all, but she is an out of place loner who can interpret things as an outsider. Unfortunately, the character has yet to really connect to anything (like a deeper meaning) to make this book "good".

As a prep schooler myself, I can relate to some of the shallow characterizations, but they are all taken to an extreme that feels cheapening. Hopefully, Sittenfeld's next book will be a tell-all about life at that crappy DC boys school where she works, oooh stories about kids giving each other wedgies and getting in fights with other prep schoolers.....

Query?

I need some help in choosing which line of Mac "books" I should purchase. So I am going to put this out there and hope for some constructive input from you. My needs are relatively basic, word processing, digital imaging (no video), digital music, web surfing. Nothing too complicated. My main question is: is there any reason that I have to get a Powerbook rather than an iBook? If someone can easily describe how a Powerbook will make my computing life $500 better I will be much obliged.

Oh, and if you want to toss in the freebie of whether I should get the 6GB Mini iPod or the 20 (or 30 GB) iPod, you might even get a wet kiss on the cheek.

Don't be shy now.

Pay to Read? I Don't Think So.

Apparently, the New York Times is considering The New York Times > Business > Media & Advertising > charging online readers. I enjoy the pleasure of reading the news online during my spare moments, but would I pay for it? No way.

Already, I find myself spending less and less time reading the MSM, and asking to ante up for it would just drive me away faster.(It should be noted that we are subscribed to the WaPo in my house, so this is for "recreational use" only. There are now enough other sources of information on the web that I can trust for my news, that I don't believe that I should pay for it.

Washington Social Club/Hot Hot Heat in short

1. Washington Social Club I love you. There I said it. You were far and away the best band at the evening. Keep it up and come back soon. Maybe you could even headline instead of the crap that you're touring with now.

2. Louis XIV you are derivative crap. Do you like the Strokes? Would you like the Strokes with a little more arena-rock sound? Would you like the Strokes with a little more arena-rock sound and no talent? I sure didn't.

3. Hot Hot Heat. You guys are rock stars. You're not that bad either. But really, you're not that good either. Yes "Bandages" is poppy enough for air play, and yes you really got the guy standing behind me dancing. You even got all the 14-year-old girls in the front row bouncing up and down like you'd given them pixie-stix, but somewhere deep in my heart, you left me cold.

4. How does it make you feel as an artist to start rocking out on stage and then look up to see row after row of 14 year-old girls in the audience. Seriously, we made the mistake of setting up shop on the main floor instead of securing prime balcony views, but in the end it turned out to be not that bad because everyone around us was a five foot tall little girl. I actually have not been that amused in a very long time. But back to the bands, it has to be a little disconcerting to realize that while you are attempting to be a mega-rockstar, you are actually only a teeny-bopper fad. Its got to be like a kick in the balls.

5. To the fat, drunk chick who decided to shove her way through the mass of aforementioned little girls to get to the front of the stage: I almost felt bad for you when I noticed you were agonizingly curled up in the fetal position beneath the outside ticket window. Almost.

DCist Happy Hour

I had to struggle over this one. Somewhere in my mind is this little voice that tells me that blogs should be anonymous; that meeting the DCist folks would somehow be really strange. I think that I was just nervous that they were going to turn out to be creepy internet people (you can picture the kind free from sunlight in their parents' basement).

Despite my own discomfort with crowds (does that make me a creepy internet person?), I had a great time and met some of the folks who make my working day distractions a little more informative. And they weren't creepy internet people. Quite the contrary, as far as I could tell, they all seemed to be fully functional members of society. So congratulations DCist on bringing a bit more sense of community to this fine city.

If it was only a case of the nerves that kept you away this time, be sure to shake 'em off in time for the next happy hour. Oh, and if you want to contribute to DCist, they seem to be interested in finding decent writers who have something to say about the city.

The "Next Blog" Button Scares Me.

I don't know how many of you have ever taken advantage of the nifty little button on the top right of your screen. You know, the one that reads "next blog>>". Sometimes when I get bored (after WaPo, DCist, NYT, BBC, ESPN, and all the nice blogs that I encourage you to check out to my right) I venture to click that mysterious button and move on through the blogiverse. Let me tell you, its a scary place.

There is nothing quite so odd as clicking randomly through blogspot addresses. With Livejournal, you get that creepy feeling that you are peering into the bedroom window of a teenage girl. You get the giddy rush of a high school crush and the heart-break of learning that your crush is crushing on your best-friend, totally bringing you back to the days when you believed that the Breakfast Club really did reflect your life. A guilty pleasure.

Blogger has a totally different feel to it. For starters, about half the blogs that I click through seem to be in foreign languages (mainly Spanish, but you get a mix of other languages as well). Nothing wrong with that. However, once I get past the tongues, I start to get really creeped out. There seems to be an inordinate number of Christian bloggers. They really scare me. Not that I ever screw up the courage to actually read them, but their mere presence reminds me that there is a whole red state world out there that believes that the world is going to end very soon. (So why do they care about Social Security or if gays marry? Shouldn't they let the G-o-d figure that stuff out?)

Even creepier are all the horny house-wife blogs out there. (For my own presence of mind, I am not going to link to any, but just click through. Maybe 1 out of every 25 is about a forty-five year old woman in Iowa City that wants to hump.) Again, there is nothing wrong with the horny housewife phenomena, in fact I hope to eventually marry a woman who will become a horny wife. Its just that reading this stuff, particularly in the workplace, makes me feel easily 10 times dirtier than reading a high school blog.

The moral of the story is proceed with caution. Blogs are a reflection of society at large, but so far society still demands a certain level of propriety that the anonymous nature of blogging disdains. It's a two way street, but on an exhausted Friday afternoon, I realize that some people reveal Too Much Information for my personal tastes. As my mom shouts out after my father has had one too many drinks (approximately 1.5) "TMI! TMI!"

mmmmmm, Zaytinya...

Do you like food? And not just food that fills your belly, but food that taste spectacularly good? If you answered "yes", and you really meant it, get your ass to Zaytinya. Its stupendous. Run by Chef Jose Andres, of Jaleo and Cafe Atlantico fame, its another mezze (tapas or small plate) restaurant. This time serving up your favorite Eastern Mediterranean fare (Turkish, Lebanese, and Greek).

The menu stretches on with delicious choices, but the highlights from last night were the Kibbeh (Fried beef, wheat, almonds, pinenuts and currants), Seared Salmon Kebob with sundried tomatoes and sesame seeds, Havuc Koftesi (a carrot, apricot and pinenut fritter with pistachio sauce. My personal favorite), and the Fattoush (sort of a chopped vegetable salad). Everything was delicious, but I have to say that unless you've never had Turkish or Lebanese don't bother with the hummous or falafel (probably the babganoush and tabouli also). They're good, but not any better than you can find elsewhere in the city (at say Lebanese Taverna). Be adventurous, and it will be sure to pay off.

I am sad to say that we didn't try any of the desserts, but I've heard only raves about them.

Overall, the atmosphere is classy, the service is good, and the food comes quick. The only problem is that you can find yourself waiting for a table because they don't accept reservations for after 6:30. But you can always entertain yourself at the bar with some ouzo.

(If you don't trust me, you can probably believe these folks)

The Bravery

Do they ever cut you off at the Black Cat? I mean, do you show up one time and they just say "No, man. I can't let you in tonight. Its for your own good."?

For the third time in a week, I found myself walking upstairs to the mainstage in preparation for some rocking. After what has been a very draining week, I was exhausted, and quite frankly would not have minded if I had been turned away for not being hip enough to see The Bravery.

My first introduction to The Bravery was through the BBC (here and here). When a friend with an extra ticket grabbed me at 10:30 last night, I was really torn between my bed and the show. I guess I can always sleep later. I'll try and prevent yesterday's ramble and come right out with it. These guys want to be huge fucking rock gods. And they dress, coif, sing, play, and prance around on stage like they are. Maybe they will be. Musically, their synth-rock sound comes right out of Robert Smith, Joy Division, and Duran Duran with a little Tears for Fears tossed in there for seasoning. Not bad, but LBH, I hope that they are not "The Next Big Thing" I already survived the '80s once.

Lead singer Sam Endicott is from the DC area and he chatted a bit about coming to see shows at the Black Cat when he was a kid, so *snap* *snap* for that. Then he proceeded to tear through a song while posing on the front speakers. And then the bassist went crowd surfing. I mean, who does that anymore? Rock Gods, thats who. Oh, and his moms was at the concert. She apparently taught him how to sing. She was a jewel who was digging her boys music, but she is not a rock god.


Randomly overheard at the show
16 year old girl: "I would hate to be balled."
Blink. Pause. Breathe. "Um..." Pause. Breathe. "Excuse me?"
16yog: "Being bald would suck. I really like my hair."


Update: DCist has just posted their review of last night's show, along with links to other bloggers all of which were pretty positive. I don't feel the need to repeat all the links here, but there are two comments that I feel deserve repeating.

From tom at Unrequited Narcisism:
"Like I said, it's not that The Bravery aren't a good band. It's just that we seem to have segued smoothly from electroclash to dance rock to Cure-dependent new wave without a break, and my tolerance for synths and eye makeup is fading pretty quickly. I get that the garage rock craze couldn't go the distance, but I'd be very happy if our next musical fad came from somewhere besides New York. The ball's in your court, Canada! Or rink. Whatever. Hell, I don't know."

And from Bags at the 9:30 Club Forum:
I stayed for probably 2/3s of The Bravery -- a couple songs were really good -- the first being the best. But, there are so many friggin' bands like these guys around right now -- this guitar-heavy new wave retro synth stuff, with singers who sound like Robert Smith or Jon King (examples, Hot Hot Heat -- whom I'm seeing tonight and said during The Braverym, "this is like a preview for tomorrow!" -- The Killers, Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party, The Futureheads, The French Kicks, Stellastar).

Again, I'm not rushing out to jump on this band wagon. Perhaps a few more turns through the LP will fire me up.

Musical Interlude

So, almost a week ago, Clem Snide rolled through the Black Cat. Part of me was very jealous when I learned that Jake was reviewing the show for DCist. I thought, wow, he must really be blowing up on this here internet. Then I remembered that he had volunteered to do it. Still, props to Jake.

Unfortunately, Jake's props couldn't compare to the first act of the evening, Marbles. This man was amazing. I am not sure that I have words to describe how extraordinary a performance this was. First, he was a meek, balding thirty-something with an acoustic guitar strumming away. Then he takes his pants off, brings up cardboard cut-outs of Darth Vader and the robot from Lost in Space , gets dressed up all in silver (including a silver cape and flip-flops). Whats left is a shiny, balding thirty-something singing along to a home stereo while occasionally pretending to play a guitar that was clearly not plugged into anything. And the dude was rocking out! I mean he was getting his jam on on-stage, completely oblivious to the fact that most of his audience was sitting there going "Oh. My. God. What is going on here?" Yet he was spectacular. If I ever see Marbles coming through town again, I am dropping the cash and seeing the show. (For a fuller review of Marbles' excellence check out Callender's thoughts)

(interlude in which Archer Prewitt sucked ass and the life out of the crowd)

Clem Snide was almost a let down in some ways. They never could regain the energy that Marbles had injected into the crowd. They cruised along and rocked through some songs, but I was a little disappointed that they didn't end up playing more of their old stuff. I know, I know, they are supporting their new album, but come on, its not like the old stuff started sucking.

The next night, it was back to the Black Cat for Robbers on High Street, VHS or Beta, and Ambulance, Ltd. Maybe I am getting too old for Friday nights, or maybe I just needed a good night's sleep to prepare for the energy of a great show, but this line-up got the job done. Robbers on High Street took the stage looking like their moms were going to have to pick them up after the show, but they were really impressive, with a mix of indie pop that got my feet moving. I picked up their new CD "Tree City", and I've been putting it through the motions. I don't know if its going to hold up over the long run, but its really got some nice energy. At points, (as I hang my head low) it reminds of Oasis. Don't know, maybe its just the derivative Beatles sound.

As far as I could tell, VHS or Beta is the second coming of the Cure, of course they took close to an hour to tune up and their levels were all too high, but they rocked hard, and they rocked loud. They rocked so hard and loud that the annoying underage fat chicks in front of us couldn't keep themselves from dancing in the sellout crowd, whacking people with their chubby elbows and stepping on toes. Not that I don't think that big girls should be able to have fun or dance, but when they started grinding on each other I thought that I was going to vomit. Luckily, their pixie stick high ended with the set, and I was able to enjoy Ambulance without being distracted by the hippie waving arms of annoying girls. Who, I might add, had absolutely zero sense of rhythm. None. Less than me. Hell, they made me look like Al Green. At least I could bob my head in beat to the thumping drums and bass.

Ambulance kept it all going. Rolling smoothly through a set of twee pop, it was a perfect end to the evening. I would say more, but I have gotten so bored, and this has gotten so long that I'm cutting myself off. More than that I am going to cut the inane crap out. Done.

WTF Dude. Seriously, WTF.

Let me give a little prologue to this tale by saying that I have a portfolio of my bookbinding and conservation work due at the place where I would like to attend graduate school. It has to be there by Monday morning otherwise, like Jimmy Carter, peace I'm outta here. This is all to say that I have been more than a little busy and more than a little stressed.

At 1:30 last night, I finished typing my final critique, and I go to print it out. No paper. No fucking paper in the entire house. You sort of have to know my house to know that this actually does not surprise me. Piss me off, yes. Stress me out, yes. Surprise me, shit no. Fuck it, I was going to go to the 'rents house so that the Mother could drop it off at UPS in the morning. Now I will just have to wake her up to print up a few pages. She loves me; she can deal.

So I head out to my car in the freezing cold. Lucky for me it snowed all morning, then melted, blew around in the breeze, and refroze to my car when the temperature dropped like it was hot. Sweet. Pull out the old ice scraper and go at. After five minutes, enough of the ice has been cleared off to see fine. Not one hundred percent, but like 85. I get in and pull out behind a cop car that just drove by. I go to turn left at the next light, but the po-po has pulled into the turning lane and stopped. Cool, I just go around him and make the wide turn.

Bang, flashing lights fill my mirror. Excuse me? I just turned left on green?

He pulls up next to me, and I see he not even the cops, he's uniformed fucking secret service. I try to roll down my window. Its frozen shut. I open my door.

Pig: Do you have an ice scraper in the car?
F: Yes. I just used it to scrape the ice off of my car.
Pig: Well, you had better pull it out again.
F: Excuse me?
Pig: If you don't I am going to issue you two tickets for obstructed views.
F: Um, okay.
Pig: Consider yourself warned.

WTF dude, WTF.
I get out of my car and the douche bag drives off. I scrape off my windshield again. In the motherfucking freezing cold. I was thinking though, two tickets? That's right, one for the front windshield and one for the back windshield.

At least he didn't give me a ticket. The fucker.

1st Wednesday at Wonderland

On Wednesday night, I managed to haul my ass out of my house to see what the deal was with Wonderland's "local music showcase", which they host on the first Wednesday of every month. Sadly passing under the sign for the defunct Red Bean and heading upstairs, I was pleasantly surprised to find that there was in fact live music. After a little internet research, the man who claimed to be Klaus Meine, of, um, Scorpians fame, maynot have been telling the truth, but Imay also have not been listening all that closely.

The "scene" was pretty mellow, with ten or fifteen people scattered around the room, listening to the acoustic set with varying degrees of interest. Whoever the singer was, he played an entertaining mix of classic songs and other songs that I didn't recognize and assume to be original works. Maybe being performed for the first time. Who knows.

I won't stake the claim that this was the coolest night I've ever had, but I had a good time, the music didn't suck, and if next month I'm looking for someplace to hang in the hood, Wonderland will probably get the nod over the Raven. That's what I got to say. If the show blows up next month maybe I'll have to revisit my comments.

Fleischer does The Daily Show

Thanks DCist for the heads up. It looks like this social reject is going to have to stay in to watchex-Press Secretary Ari Fleischer take on Jon Stewart. Do you think that Stewart will spit on Ari? Or will Ari crack under the pressure and cough up the goods on the Bushies?

Cherry Blossoms, Mark it.

The Park Service has announced that the cherry blossoms are expected to peak between April 4th and9th. While the Cherry Blossom Festival means floods of tourists breathing our air, the blossoms are among the most beautiful events that this city experiences every year.

Bookish Artsy Things to do

The 30th Annual Washington Antiquarian Book Fair is coming to the Rosslyn Holiday Inn this weekend (Friday-Saturday). The Book Fair will host 75 dealers of rare and fine books, maps and prints. For all of you book collectors out there, this is the place to browse the DC areas biggest collections of rare books. And on Saturday, for all you lovers of Antiques Roadshow, you can have your books appraised for a small fee. (The Post's Weekend Section just wrote it up)

Then at the end of the month, the Southern Graphic Council International Conference will consider the Power of Print in their annual meeting. This conference will bring together a huge number of artists and graphic designers to the DC area. In conjunction with the conference, many galleries will be opening printmaking shows and hosting receptions. For some events, you will need to be a registered participant, but for most of the gallery showings, you just need to show up and enjoy the art!

Boondocks Censored?

Well, Howard Kurtz pointed me to this commentary at Think Progress attacking the Chicago Tribune for not publishing today's Boondocks comic strip. I love the quote from the Tribune that “The very fact that readers could find the strips elsewhere indicates that they were not censored." Oh yeah, that's greaaaaat reasoning. And there isn't racism in America because blacks govern whole countries over there in Africa.

Seriously, check out the Boondocks strip. I almost fell out of my chair laughing. Too bad the President doesn't want to talk about his past, because all of those biographies written after his death are really going to make this coked up drunk look worse than Ulysses S. Grant (more entertaining quotes here).

Big News on the Me Front.

I have just received news that I have passed the first hurdle on my way to graduate school! Yay for me! This means that now I have an incredibly stressful two weeks pulling together a portfolio of my work to send off to be judged. Then I have to face the probing questions of an interview. The email sounded like it would probably be a phone interview, but I just earned myself a time-off award for extra good behavior, so I may just see if I can swing a trip to be interviewed in person. Good god my nerves are hopping right along now. I had better be able to sleep tonight because I have a lot of work to do over the next couple of days to make sure that everything is ready for the next "round o' judgement".