Tuesday, November 30, 2004

November 2004--A Month of DCeption in Retrospect

Well November is over and done, and with it, we leave the election, Thanksgiving and our time-consuming beef with the wee ones at Big Yawn behind. Once again, let's give up some thanks to you, the readers, who made November our best non-Wonkette month to date. And we also thank those folks on the blogroll to the right, who've kicked some love my way whenever I was worthy of it and didn't defame me when I wasn't. All readers are encouraged to click over to those blogs on a regular basis. DC has got a really good blogging community, and you're apt to find some intelligent and entertaining writing if you just explore a little. Of course, it pays to get out a little also, but when you are the DCeiver, you find yourself stapled and taped to your chair at work during the month of December. It wasn't this way when the DCeiver was working for a government contractor, but then again, working for government contractors, at any level, is like working for Satan, only a deeply retarded Satan.

The big news is that Washingtonian has named
DCist one of the city's best blogs. As the least important contributor to DCist, I can only say that this is totally fucking awesome, and I hope we celebrate with whatever money is left in the lovely and talented Jen Chung's expense account.

People ask me all the time: "What's it like being the least important contributor at one of DC's finest blogs?" And the answer is: Duh. Like I said one paragraph ago: Totally. Fucking. Awesome. You should see the blazing smoking jackets we get to wear at gatherings. And it's not difficult making sure Mike Grass and Rob Goodspeed always have fresh whiskey sours within reach. In turn, they tolerate my antics with great aplomb. I hope for many happy DCist days for all of Washington, and I'll hopefully come up with something to contribute after Redskins season is over.

Here's what went down in November:

  • We profiled the various and sundry Votergasm options, and suspect after the fact that most people in DC were mad-faking theirs the way election night played out.
  • We jumped up and down on the heads of the Didactic Theatre Company, because their name, frankly, sucks. Theatrical practitioners should never even use the word "didactic" in conversation. It is the didacticism of theatre that causes people to stay home from it in droves.
  • We tracked the swiftly tilting battlefield that was the DC Council, as the suits haggled and bargained and meowed and hissed over where the shitty, shitty baseball team we got was going to play when they get here.
  • Of course, our signature contribution during the month of November was giving Big Yawn the one thing they couldn't obtain for themselves--a small shred of temporary relevance. You're welcome!
  • We really tried to get people to start calling Alberto Gonzalez "The Spanish Inquisition", but it never took off. This is our last ditch, lame attempt.
  • Full Minute of Mercury? We joined the multilateral bloggasm in proclaiming their awesomeness.
  • DC and football glory don't go together? That all depends on what you mean by football! The DC United bring home the MLS Cup thanks to Alecko Eskandarian.
  • I don't have any say in what the Helen Hayes people judge to be great acting, but I'll be damned if Karl Miller didn't etch his name in the firmament with his exemplary performance in Rorschach's The Accidental Death of an Anarchist. And, yes, I know I'm a total Rorschach tout, but I stand by everything I said in that review.
  • The DCeiver torches the pissy faux-moralists who want to shut down gay-straight school groups.
  • Adam Eidinger protests the Washington Nationals, but he didn't care enough about it to set a Chinese New Year dragon on fire.

Thanks for reading people! And please bear with us in December, as we'll be leaving town for a week of floating in the Caribbean--and we're not sure they let you blog out there.

Saturday, November 27, 2004

Still on vacation

Hi everyone. We're still enjoying our time off and away up here in New Jersey, where the stuffing is lickable and the white people are despicable. Was that a little too harsh? And would it weird you out to know that writing that first sentence gave me a massive case of deja vu?

At any rate, we will be returning on Sunday, a little wiser, a little happier, and having saved an assload of money.

If you want a good recommendation as far as tunes for your roadtrip, check out our official Diner Media Empire Turnpike Mixes for 2004. And feel free to take offense at them here or there or anywhere.

See you in a couple of days, sweet DC!

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

On vacation.

With Thanksgiving days away, The DCeiver will be taking a bit of a break. We will be heading to the redoubtable town of Glen Ridge, New Jersey, to celebrate and sleep out our annual tryptophan hangover. While we may offer up something in the meantime, it seems more likely that we'll be mostly celebrating the holiday and gallivanting all over Jersey. (I have to stop by the liquor store today because apparently Jerseyans have never heard of bourbon.) The biggest reason we'll be taking a break is that I won't have very much to work with computer-wise while I'm up north.

If you need some content, go here. And if not, good. We'll see you when we get back on Monday, November 29.

And fair warning, The Deceiver is likely to go dark in December, as we plan on floating around the Caribbean on a boat for a week. Don't envy us, someone else paid. Otherwise it'd be another holiday of canned corn and A Christmas Story on the TV.

Have a good holiday, people. I'm thankful this year that Ron Artest doesn't write for Big Yawn, because Artest could fuck my shit up but good.

Let's get Natty!

It's hard not to be disturbed by the images on Sportscenter. A figure leaps up in a rage, wades up into a crowd of people, touching off a firestorm of violence. People rush around, grabbing, pulling, trading blows, putting up a fierce resistance. It's complete chaos, utter madness, a thoroughly distressing and disturbing scene.

Nooooo, I'm not talking about Ron Artest taking on the city of Detroit. I'm talking about Adam Eidinger bumrushing the stage of the press conference to protest the newly named Washington Nationals and the plan to publicly finance a new stadium. The Deceiver remains resolute: considering there are only about ten-thousand people willing to root for a Washington Baseball team, a fifteen-thousand seat stadium will do fine. Nevertheless, Eidinger--who comes across as the world's most aggrieved Barenaked Ladies fan--injected a little populist drama into what would otherwise be an upbeat gathering. I feel Eidinger's pain. I really do. The last thing DC needs is to float a bunch of bonds to pay for something that'll mainly be enjoyed by out-of-towners rooting for their visiting faves and Congressional fatcats looking to dole out a little largesse. But what Adam doesn't understand is that Washington DC has made a deal with the devil (in the guise of the MLB, but who's fooling who now), and the devil is ALWAYS gonna collect. Ask Peter Angelos, baby!

The Washington Nationals. Well, it'll be reminiscent of the airport. And once again, we plunge into a tradition of team names that spawn shortened forms that make the team sound dorky, in this case, we will soon be stuck with "The Nats"--which is okay if you are say, Nat Turner. But it reminds me of going to Washington Diplomats games and joining the cheer: "Let's go Dips!"

But, if there's a positive in all of this, it's this: the Montreal Expos truly do suck canal water. At least they'll have an actual canal to suck it from.

Friday, November 19, 2004

Calling All Enthusiasts!

If you've been itching to get you ass on the dance floor, we've got a weekend of old, new, and fortified. The Black Cat's spinning synthpop tonight and 80's alt-pop tomorrow, Copacetic and the Lemur Loungers drop FUNKSKEREM at Meskerem in Adams Morgan tonight, with special guest Mojo Jones, and DC9 continues to flog its Liberation Dance Party, with special Friday night guests Dogs Die In Hot Cars, who'll spin--and likely not beat match--once they have rested their case at the 9:30.

Look. You just KNOW that National Treasure movie's going to stink like the alley behind the DCAC. And be full of continuity errors. Like that West Wing episode where the President drove from the White House to State by way of the National Cathedral?! So stop. Don't do it. Brave the Silver Spring streets this Saturday and take in On The Waterfront at the Silver, and discover why it was that Lloyd Cole namechecked Eve Marie Saint in his song "Rattlesnakes."

Now that you've partied your ass off and dodged the Orange Alert Bomb that is the new Nicolas Cage movie, it's time to prove you are a contender. Get on out to the Claude Moore Colonial Farm at Turkey Run this Sunday at 1pm for their 18th Century Threshing Day! They will teach you how to thresh your own wheat, and provide refreshments for a mere three piddly bucks! This will be a valuable skill for when Bush's Ownership Society kicks in and we'll have to thresh our own wheat anyway (as well as pave our own roads). 6310 Georgetown Pike, McLean, VA.

The WEST WING Five Question Study Guide: "Lowering My CAFE Standards"

If you watched this week's West Wing, or even if you caught DCist's excellent coverage, one thing's pretty obvious: to use the parlance of our buddies at Television Without Pity, the Anvil Omnibus Package must have been passed out of conference committee.

Yes, the anvils fell from the sky from the show's opening moments--Car Collisions of Metaphor, Post-Traumatic Stress Similes, the pervasive sense that the Wellsian coupling rondelet was still spinning its wheels. It was tough to see the omens through the signs and portents! The Wife of Deceiver and I have an anviltastic tradition where we yell out "Clang!!!" every time one hits the ground. Having cued up the West Wing on a Thursday night for a double dip of John Wells skullduggery via ER, we clanged so often that our downstairs neighbors called up to ask if we had the Georgetown Men's Basketball Team over for shootaround.

Of course, you have to smirk at the West Wing titling their show "Hubbert's Peak." It's like the pot blurbing the kettle's autobiography. But then, this was the episode where The West Wing took on blogging. So, you know what that means...blogging is fucking soooooo yesterday, folks. Well, we've had a nice run.

So, then on to some questions for further study.

  1. You'll note that Mary McCormack appeared in the show tonight without the previously cited Ghastly Bangs. Is it too presumptuous of me to start taking credit?
  2. Wouldn't you say that the primitive cave drawings of early man were, in essence, the blogs of that era? Okay, they so totally weren't? But wouldn't you say that? Wouldn't you say that and then go ahead and write, say a research thesis saying it again? Because no one in the blogosphere is going to get the grant money we need until you pointy-head academic types start saying so. So write, motherfucker! Mush!
  3. I have always had a thing for Rachael Harris, who appeared in several scenes. When she's on TV, my vision gets all blurred and tunnelly and I swear you can hear Spandau Ballet playing in the background...so, could any of you tell me what went on in those scenes?
  4. Wouldn't you think that Broadway star Kristin Chenoweth would have had, by now, ample opportunity to get My Fair Fucking Lady out of her system?
  5. Television writers often settle on a good idea without thinking their way through to a great one. In this case, the good idea is that the President must play a weekly chess game. But isn't the GREAT idea that the President must play a weekly game of jai alai?

Thursday, November 18, 2004

DCeptette: All Zones and Meters Version

  1. The DC Cab Strike. My, that was a harrowing couple of hours wasn't it? Hope you stocked up on milk and toilet paper, because it really was the eve of destruction for all of Western Civilization. Luckily we'll always have the Washington Times account of the day to look back on with nostalgia, and of course, they frame the story as an epic struggle between the Good, the Bad, and the Inconvenient. Truly we are all survivors. (Eye of the Moonie Tiger)
  2. How typical that this happened in SIlver Spring, that dark slum of the soul. A Silver Spring woman was convicted in Federal Court yesterday for keeping an immigrant girl as a slave. Well, indentured servitude is a part of the Ownership Society, after all! Still, now that we read that this woman is facing 25 years in prison for this, we at The Diner Media Empire are going to have to let go of about fourteen people we had previously classified as "interns". Guess I'm back to doing my own laundry. (WJLA News 7)
  3. World of Craigslist: First, word is getting out there about counter-protests at the inauguration this January. The DCeiver will so totally be avoiding that scene and will entreat the relevant parties for access to our Fortress of Solitude on the Upper West Side. Second, when you factor in the title of this missed connection, don't you feel a little bit skeeved?
  4. Leiby wants to know where the sexiest politician is? Umm, duh! Gavin and/or Kimberly Guilfoyle Newsom, San Francisco, CA. We're happy to have helped. (Leiby)
  5. "Family" groups in Maryland attack student "gay-straight" groups for "promoting homosexuality" and "encourag[ing] teens to be sexually active." First off, isn't there a whole a priori problem with believing that homosexuality is promoted in a gay-straight club? Isn't it more reasonable--and by "more reasonable" I mean "totally fucking obvious"--to assert that the prior existence of gays and straights drove the formation of gay-straight clubs? And secondly, can't we all be mature enough that the encouragement of sexual activity can be found, well, EVERYWHERE? This is such nonsense, and yet, I think this is one of those areas where kids freaking get it. I mean, these high-schoolers and junior high kids seem to feel an innate societal need to at least try to bridge these gaps between peoples, but as soon as their parents stick their little toe in the water it gets all fucked up beyond recognition. Typical, typical, typical. I'm not saying that our parents don't pass on SOME useful stuff to us, but ALL of the horseshit we walk around believing--indeed, the pronounced capacity of some people to worship solely at the altar of horseshit--all that, every bit of that, comes from mommy and daddy. We are born horseshit free, people. We say huzzah and kudos to these kids, and encourage them to keep trying to detune their brains from the numbskull channel. And this has been another episode of: The DCeiver, Yelling at America. (Tashington Wimes)

Murry in a Hurry (through my bowels, that is...)

DCers prowling the Golden Triangle are frequently treated to the sight of the Murry's "Fine" Foods trucks floating around. I just saw one, myself, this one bearing a generous helping of pictoral depictions of some of their wares.

Let's see. Hey, it looks like we got the Golden Breaded Lard Girders in healthy supply! And check out the yellowy sheen of their popular Deep Fried Chicken Recta(TM) Nibblz! And the piece de resistance--Oxen Testicles in Red Cattle Effluvia, nesting in a warm bowl of Boiled Tapeworm. Mmmm-mmmm, good!

I scouted the truck, because I wanted to make doubly sure they weren't going to pull up in the back of David Greggory, and then returned to the awesome task of caffeine procurement.

Sweet, sweet synergy

What's going on with the rest of the family? Glad you asked.

Over at Blue In The Face, we'd been trucking for a while, with scads of post-election commentary from Kevin and Chris. Kevin builds the case for Dean taking over the chair of the DNC. We've offered up the usual Daily Briefings, and the return of the IHateTheBlueintheFaceBlogBot is imminent.

Meanwhile, at the mothership, The Diner, we've returned from our post-election sabbatical to offer readers a brand new menu of goodness:

  • We urge Democrats across the land to cheer up!
  • In THE BLUEPRINT, we urge a rethinking on the state's insistence on oversight and regulation for the home-schooled. Maybe it's because we were stoned.
  • Our JUNK CULTURE column is the yoo-goo-lagie for our dearly departed friend, Ol' Dirty Bastard.
  • And we're still the only motherfuckers in town that will straight up give ya Six of One and a Half-Dozen of the Other.

Oh, yeah. Content you can ladle right into your craw.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Meet Devin Nunes!

Over on the governmentadelically obsessed The Hill, their Capitol Living feature is offering a new "Meet The Lawmaker" entry: Devin Nunes (R-Calif). There isn't a whole lot there to absorb, but we have to say, Representative Nunes' core principles come shining through as if he were an untinted windowpane.

Motherfucker is all about playing it safe.

Astounding--perhaps even...admirable--for a member of the House of Representatives to hew to a low limb on the tree and gently whistle, because frankly, most Representatives tend to be howling mad freakjobs who wanna get naked and scream about how They Know What's Best For You. In this way, the House is different from the Senate in that the Senate keeps their clothing on most days and simply declaims We Know What's Best For You (But Shit, We've Learned That There Are Limits pleasedon'tyellokayI'llbequiet.)

You ask Nunes a question, and by God! You are going to get an answer that will not stir up controversy of any kind. It won't even disturb the dust. He has obviously promised his constituents a rigorous tenure of not stepping on toes or ruffling of feathers, and by God he is going to leave every toe and feather exactly where he found it or die in the attempt. His favorite lawmaker? George Washington. His best moment? Getting married. His saddest moment? "Well, it's always sad when people die." Man. This dude is blowing my FREAKING mind!

Here's an answer that got my attention. His favorite place in the whole world is the Azores. The goshdamn Azores! These are some island chain somewhere in the tropical Atlantic, and he's from there. Right away I'm thinking, "You know, I wonder what the benefits are when you staff for this guy?" Not to mention wondering if spending time in the Azores is what puts you in this kind of comme-ci comme-ca mental mood.

Ahhhh. Now that's my new happy place. The Azores...

While he admits that he'd fire "numerous Senators" (and who wouldn't? They all think they're gonna be President one day!), the answer he gives that I love the most is: "Well, I probably don?t like people who deliberately lie." Yeah. "You see, deliberate lying seems bad, mmm'kay, and I probably don't like it--I probably don't like it one little bit. I think. But, you know, if I ever had to, say, hide Anne Frank or some stuff like that then I probably would totally feel relatively okay about it. At least maybe."

The DCeiver offers a lusty hoist of the glass to Representative Nunes. You sir, make being almost wholly unremarkable look like the most remarkable thing in the universe!

OK, so I had a fantastic idea.

You know, the Big Yawn/DCeiver folderol could continue ad infinitum if I wanted it to. But, it has been correctly pointed out, my continuing it isn't very interesting for anyone.

I think that what one commenter had to say is right: Blogging, on one level, is essentially a safe promontory for a person to spout outrageous opinions. I do it. My pal Here's a Hint does it. If you ever read my man Castor Oil's blog, you know he can stick and move with the best of 'em.

But, maybe it would actually be very interesting if I did something different--if I invited the much maligned Big Yawn editors into my safe space to give back as good as they got? Tear down the barricades that allow me to toss grenades, and let them write their own story on these pages for all to see, and to remain in theoretical perpetuity? That might be different. That might be cool. At any rate, it would elevate things considerably.

So here's what I propose. I have been looking to do another Seven Deadly Questions featurette after the first one with HaH. I say, let's have me and the editors of Big Yawn each interview the other in the seven-question-over-email format. I'll give those guys the opportunity to ask me where I get off. And I'll run both interviews on this site, and give them permission (not that they need me permission) to run both on theirs. And it will be completely unexpirgated and unedited.

And let's not go into this with any preconceptions. If it ends up vitriolic, we'lll accept from the outset that that's allowed to happen. If its hugs all around, that's fine too. But I want to allow the discussion on this site about this matter to stop being so one sided, with me having final edit.

All right. Now I'm at least interested. I will email this post to those dudes, and invite them to contact me with the "Drop Me A Line" feature on my sidebar.

If any of you think this stands to a crushing bore, feel free to indicate so. But let's see if I don't end up getting what's coming to me, whatever that may be.

We respond to a Big Yawn defender

I think it's worth pointing out, that it's not that Big Yawn somehow angers me. I think they suck, but that doesn't make my teeth white-hot with rage. Indeed, if they improved their website, it'd be pretty jackassy of me to not acknowledge it and offer them praise. Perhaps I could start by saying: I like "Insomniacs Rejoice". That's THE ONLY thing I like, but I like that.

I was wrong about one thing when I originally posted this. The anger you sense in what's to follow isn't really because of philosophical disputes with another website. The anger is because this %#$* accuses me of intellectual dishonesty, and presents a cavalcade of misleading and fatuous evidence as the basis for argument. There are all sorts of things I'm willing to forgive or let pass by, but in this case, the full fury has been provoked.

At 11/17/2004, Anonymous said...
Let's at least get the facts right, the complete quotes you were so happy to take out of context to put yourself more in the right were:

"We are less than one year old... and are still growing and learning. When one of you takes the time and money out of your life to run a site like this, let's talk. Until then, by all means criticize or praise us, I don't give a fuck. But don't for a second think you know any better than us."


"Don't we have enough crankiness in this town? Really. Also, creatively sarcastic or commentary is cool, but I don't need someone's ego to sound "hip" to overshadow a review."

Not exactly what you were saying. Plus, the latter quote was from someone who doesn't even write for BigYawn. Awesome job on the facts there DCeiver. You think everyone on the 930 board is a BYer just cause they called you out? Good job at the ignorance thing, I think even BY would give you a 9.0 for that.

At 11/17/2004, Anonymous said...

And while we're at it, you might as well give the full quote for BY's mention of TVOTR in their Shortlist handicapping:"I think if the world worked perfectly, these fellas from NYC would walk away with the Shorty. (You heard me, the Shorty) But the world doesn't work that way. This is truely a groundbreaking album that has gone way too unnoticed. Yeah, most of you reading this probably have it, but not enough of your friends do. I think just being nominated will do wonders for these guys. Still, they have a shot, depending on the way the wind is blowing.Odds: 4-1 "

I'd be only too happy to address the points made by this dimwit, jackass, fool.

DJF states:
Let's at least get the facts right, the complete quotes you were so happy to take out of context to put yourself more in the right were:

[DJF continues] "We are less than one year old... and are still growing and learning. When one of you takes the time and money out of your life to run a site like this, let's talk. Until then, by all means criticize or praise us, I don't give a fuck. But don't for a second think you know any better than us." [end quote]

I fail to see how including the rest of the quote provides any better context for the statement "Don't for a second think you know any better than us." If ANYTHING, not quoting it did Big Yawn a favor, because it provided them some cover for their obnoxious and contradictory statement: you'd think someone that admits to being a year-old, still "growing and learning" would have the fucking perspective to not tell someone "Don't for a second think you know any better than us." I think it's the height of churlishness to, on one hand, plead for a break because you're new to this, while in the same breath giving me shit. But since you seem to want to dig their own fucking grave, you tiresome milquetoast, I happily submit their entire comment into the record.

As for the second point of contention, that I have somehow demonstrated a certain degree of "ignorance" for assuming that the response, on the 9:30 Forum, of someone anonymously posing under the pseudonym "Sugartastic Tee Silk" was an authorized member of Big Yawn who was speaking on behalf of Big Yawn--despite the fact that said "Sugartastic Tee Silk" was, by all appearances, responding directly to suggestions in my blog that I made directly to Big Yawn (and the fact that you just OMIT this fact is demonstrative of your own fatuousness)--has nothing at all to do with me being ignorant and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that I am NOT A FUCKING MINDREADER you great big stupid cockknocking dolt! And none of it changes the fact that Big Yawn is an ego-free, bland-by-consensus, lacking in aesthetic POV, boring ass website that resolutely fails to distinguish itself from any other website (except possibly in the crybaby monotone simpering of its writers and editors whenever someone bags on them.)

Finally, in your attempt to make the point that I somehow misled my readers or misquoted BY w/r/t what BY said in its entirety w/r/t TV On The Radio, I say, open my post, you great crushing moron, and CLICK on the SECOND LINK in the THIRD PARAGRAPH and lo and behold! BY's entire fucking blah-blah on the Shortlist Award magically fucking appears! In my post, I also quoted, correctly, their entire summative paragraph as well as their contention that TV On The Radio had "a shot, depending on the way the wind is blowing" which I thought was a MORE THAN ADEQUATE allowance on my part that Big Yawn gave themselves an out and offered the caveat that maybe, just maybe, TVoTR would win the award.

The only thing I omitted that was at all germane to this discussion (and, as I stated above, linked to ANYWAY) was the first sentence in your paragraph about TVoTR's chances, "I think if the world worked perfectly, these fellas from NYC would walk away with the Shorty." At least that seems to be the bee buzzing away in your teeny, WEENY head of yours. Well, we offer the following CORRECTION:

"The DCeiver would like to state that at the time of their posting, Big Yawn wrote that '...if the world worked perfectly, these fellas from NYC would walk away with the Shorty,' offering their readers yet another cliched, shop-worn, half-assed, caveat in their entry that I, perhaps owing to a subconscious welling of great pity, failed to include in my indictment. For some reason, a Big Yawn defender wanted still more attention called to the fact that they are pathologically averse and incapable of taking a stand on anything whatsoever. The DCeiver has absolutely no regrets whatsoever, in including yet another piece of failing-to-be-exculpatory evidence in my case against these great big asshatters."

Do not even try to dance with me, dude. Do not even step on the floor.

If BY wants to shut me the hell up, indeed, if they want me to even come out, and publicly state: "All right! Big Yawn totally rules!" then they have the power in their hands to make it happen.

And all they have to do is one little thing:

Make the content not suck ass.

In the meantime, you and they should please, please, please stop hurting the internet. What did it do to deserve it?

DCeptette: Nobody who matters calls it "Reagan" Version

  1. Saints be praised! Someone gets it! (The November 3rd Theses)
  2. WMATA holds the first ever "Town Hall" meeting for passengers in an attempt to answer questions and assuage concerns after the past few months of Metro history brought us Red Line insanity, drivers walking off the job, busts made for candy bar chewing, floods incapacitating the system, and the now universally beloved culminating event in which two trains in the Woodley Park Station spontaneously decided to sodomize each other. WMATA patiently answered questions posed by moderator Bob Levey, sought feedback, and promised to answer the remaining questions on their website within a week. What WMATA did not do, however, was tell the horrible truth: "It's the boy. The boy! He...makes us do those things...he makes us crash the trains and flood the tunnels. If we don't...if we don't...[whispering] he'll do terrible things to us...terrible things..." (Post)
  3. Again, we beseech Peter Marks--If you want to fucking write about the New York theatre, quit your fucking job at the WASHINGTON Post and fucking move to New York City and fucking stay there. Until then, stay right the fuck here and review our shows, because no one, and I mean NO ONE, and I'll say it again, for emphasis--NO FUCKING ONE here is Washington gives two tugs of a dead dog's cock what is going on in the New York Theatre scene. If we cared, we'd fucking move there too. (Post)
  4. Karl Rove, emerging as frontrunner for Time's "Person of the Year" is reportedly outpolling God. He's got better favorables/unfavorables too. (Leiby)
  5. Has anyone noticed that if our baseball team becomes the Washington Nationals, it becomes the first sports team in history named after an airport?
NOTES: We should have mentioned this, but if you are looking for The Passion of the Gibbs featurette, it's over on DCist, now, and fortified with a lot more goodness. Look for previews on Friday and game summaries on Monday.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

The Continuing Saga of The DCeiver and Big Yawn

If you've been following the boards over at the 9:30 club, you know that the Army of Big Yawn, in general a flotilla of writers dedicated to the passionate pursuit of the generic, have had their opportunity to vent their spleen in support of their God-given right to be indignant about criticism. They've obliquely offered the sentiment: "Don't think for a moment that you know better than us." They've described their "lack of ego" as the key to their critical success, which I suppose would be a good argument were it not for the Complete Works of Every Rock Critic Who Ever Lived standing in as evidence to the opposite. One BYer has even told a little birdy that he'd like to opportunity to sit with me and explain how wrong, wrong, wrong I am. Please make sure I am drunk for that little powwow!

All of this is soooooooooo much dancing about architecture. I think as far as rock critics go, Big Yawn are excellent web designers. But, can one offer, say, a Basis for Comparison? Why yes. A wee one, but a Basis for Comparison, nonetheless.

I cast your memory back to 10/9/04. On that date, I discovered that Big Yawn had handicapped the Shortlist Prize. I said, "Hmmmm," on that day because, by coincidence, in my role as rock critic for The Diner (full disclosure, I am more derelict in those duties than BY has ever been in theirs) I had done so as well.

Summing up, Big Yawn had this to say in way of making a prediction: "So, there you have it. A full out dog fight between the coal-miner's daughter [Loretta Lynn], and the Austrian Archdukes [Franz Ferdinand]. With the possility [sic] that just maybe a longshot horse can sneek [sic] in." They had given Franz Ferdinand 2-3 odds of winning, Loretta Lynn 3-1 odds. They allowed that TV On The Radio had "a shot, depending on the way the wind is blowing."

On the other hand, I more or less came to the exact opposite conclusion. TV On The Radio, opined I, was "quite simply the only record on the Shortlist that can be considered to be on the vanguard of rock's future, and it doesn't sound like anything you've heard before." I went on to state: "As the Long List was pared down to the Shortlist, no record was selected more often by the judges than TV on the Radio. I expect Loretta Lynn and Franz Ferdinand to be real contenders going forward, but I think the Shortlist is going to Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes, and as far as I'm concerned, it belongs there."

Note the ego, please. Note the all-around, standing-for-something, do.

Well, it didn't surprise me at all to read on [information leafblower] today that TV On The Radio, did, in fact win. So, how long a moratorium should I get from people who declaim that I shouldn't "think for a minute that I know better?"

At any rate, congratulations to TV On The Radio, who truly are deserving of that award.

And Big Yawn? That's called KICKING YOUR ASS.

The Weekender, Part Deux--Full Evening of Defenestration.

Saturday night, after the beloved Wahoos lost to the hated Miami Hurricanes--who I have despised with a white-hot loathing since I was in the womb--I needed a place to let the healing begin. And not just the healing from the college gridiron, but from, you know, the Other Thing. Election Day and Everything After.

It's worth pointing out that Election Day was actually pretty fantastic. I got up early, voted, came to work, was told I'd be getting a little something extra in the ol' take home, and then I set up to scan the information coming my way from all over the country. When we got the first batch of exit polls, we were ecstatic. When we got the second, it was like we were all totally high. During those early afternoon hours, if I had wanted to jack off to those exit polls, my coworkers and office-mates (we share office space with a lefty strategy group) would have been okay with that. "Hey, jacking off?" they would have said. "Heck, I don't blame you. Those exit polls are so fucking hot and sexy. Keep right at it! In fact, I think I"m going to jack it, too." And we would have all jacked it. But, sadly, Election Day gave way to Election Night which gave way to the funereal atmosphere of the next morning--where no one was jacking it. For that matter, I doubt we would have been allowed to. Well...maybe one, like, pity jack. But that would have been it.

So, I needed to finally get the ol' system purged of the political throatpunching I had endured, luckily, I had just the gig lined up--The Accidental Death of an Anarchist, at Rorschach Theatre.

Hell fucking yeah. That is the stuff right there. Nobel Laureate Dario Fo's best-known work is getting the up-to-the-minute treatment it deserves by the Schach. It is not to be missed, people. Go. Go right now! Get off your ass and go! Get! Move, people! Actually, calm down. It's not playing tonight. I was just being a dick.

Wife of Deceiver and I showed up a bit beforehand, where we met up with The DCepticon and some other folks. Here's where I, unfortunately, missed the chance to Make a Difference. While standing on Columbia Road, we were approached by a homeless man who was beseeching alms, as is their wont, which we provided, as was ours. He walked down the street, seemingly passing on, but suddenly reappeared in front of the Casa del Pueblo. Wife of Deceiver and I walked into the theatre, and passed down the hall for the theatre door, where we met Schach co-AD Randy Baker. We hit him up with our "where should we sit" question and headed in. As we were going into the theatre, we noticed that the homeless man from outside had come down the hall and was talking to Randy. We knew Randy to be a capable mitigator, so we thought nothing of it.

Now. Upon entering the theatre, there is a little piece of pre-show business where the Guard from the play asks you to walk inside through a "terrorist detector", and he makes little alarm sounds and hilariously gets patrons to do things like join hands and sway back and forth or he gives them hugs or asks them to twirl around. Funny preshow. Now, as I entered, he beeped at me and started patting me down. While he was doing this, the homeless man appeared and entered. I could barely make out what he said to the guy playing the Guard, but the Guard said: "Oh sure, go right ahead." Right about now, I was wondering if this was the best course of action, but then I thought: "Hmmm. He was talking to Randy. And now this actor wasn't giving him any trouble. And Rorschach is a tad weird as far as theatres go. And we are in the middle of some pre-show funny. So I'm going to let it go."

After the Guard had finished his funny biz with us, Wife and I went to our seats. I was sitting down, when once again the homeless man caught my attention. This time, he was standing across the room, near the edge of the stage, by a hatrack with a hat and coat on it. As I was watching, the man took the hat off of the rack, walked behind a piece of set, appeared to try it on and take it off again, then emerge and head for the door. I watched him cross the room, fully expecting him to be stopped. But I wondered...okay, maybe this has something to do with something. I looked for the (frankly, v.v.cute) Stage Manager to try to read what she was thinking. VVCSM was clearly looking at what was going on, but it was too difficult to tell from across the room if she was looking on in knowing humor or in pure flabbergast. After a moment, the perhaps-stunned VVCSM came down from the board and made a beeline after the homeless man, but in the confusion, he managed to elude her.

I felt really bad, of course, because I could have, at any time, stopped this from happening. I clearly had Missed an Opportunity to Make a Difference. I was pretty dumbstruck in my own right, and totally unsure if maybe the whole matter didn't actually have some pre-planned point to it that was germane to the show, but through it all, my trusty bullshit detector was sounding alarms. The hat, by the way, was never recovered. They went ahead with a different hat. I wish I had stopped the guy now, and gently got the hat back. As Randy pointed out to me, the worst people are the ones who, in a time of crisis, sit on the sidelines and plead neutrality. He's totally right about that, and he's also right about how cool it would be to be buried in the Zoroastrian fashion. But, I'd like to point out that if you want to just take something off a theatre set, just walk in to any show that Randy's working, and take what you want.

Hey, homeless dude. Enjoy that hat. You earned it.

Anyway...Accidental Death, is a surging, scabrous, utterly hilarious production that is going wring laughter from and sooth the frayed nerves of all you patriots in the reality-based community. It's a broad, playful farce in the political tradition of Aristophanes that just batters you with gags while serving up jabs at the political right. In keeping with tradition, the text is rendered very current, and I have to say, is peppered with ideas that even had me flatfooted with how well reasoned and frankly original they were. I've seen Grady Weatherford's directorial work on one other occasion (Family Stories), and while he definitely has earned his reputation as a director who demands a certain amount of go-for-broke reck and abandon out of his actors, it should be pointed out that he doesn't simply unload chaos on the audience and let it flail insanely. He has a real eye for composition and a real knack for creating moments that just sear right onto your brainpan and stick with you. Accidental Death really stokes this balance well--I'm still walking around, calling to mind some of the onstage pictures--still enjoying them, actually.

And while thsi cast is first-fucking-rate, I have got to give mad props to Karl Miller, who played the Fool (the play's singular agent provocateur) and delivered a performance that is holy shit amazing. Maybe one of the best five or six onstage performances I have ever seen in my life. The thing about this particular role, is that right off the bat, you have to be funny as shit. That's the first given. Then, you have got to be utterly resolute in you pursuit of onstage attention, awake to whatever stimulus is gonna push, push, push, you because if you flag for a second playing this part the play goes in the toilet. It takes absolute constancy and commitment. Add to that the fact that this particular character has got to come across as having a real kind of danger lurking underneath the skin, like a stockpile of fuel just waiting for ignition AND you have to earn the audience's sympathy--really, you have to get the audience rooting for you--and you are talking about a role that is work, work, work. Well, Miller fucking brings it. All I could think about afterwards was the sheer abundance of craft that was displayed, and I'm not even getting into the vocal stuff that would bore anyone who wasn't a voice teacher like me, but nonetheless has me completely rethinking what the A-plus standard should be. Damn, son. And with the rest of that crew binging and banging right along with Miller? DAMN, son. Big, fat, fucking grin on MY face.

This show continues through the 21st. You are a total and complete nincompoop if you have the chance to see it and fail.

DCeptette: Stylized Ampersand Version

  1. Hmmm. Apparently there's a little, shall we say, unrest in the nation. Yemeni terror informant, despairing over being prevented from seeing his family, does his best imitation of Rage Against The Machine's first album cover. We hoped for a Craigslist Missed Connection today ("You, swarthy, with sad eyes, totally covered in flames...are you seeing any of those guys you were wrestling on the ground with? If not, call me and we'll cover ourselves in Sterno."), but to no avail. (Post)
  2. More unrest. Another deeply troubled individual jumps White House fence. I'd seriously start getting used to this. And by the by, I am so splitting this town over Inauguration Weekend. (WTOP)
  3. The battle for DC Baseball seesaws again, this time in Mayor Williams favor, as Councilwoman Cropp's deal with BW Realty strikes many councilmembers as unfeasible. Cropp is leaning toward pushing the date on the vote back again in order to run out the clock; will reportedly use Councilman Harold Brazil's planned absence as the cause for tabling the vote. Given Brazil's historical uselessness, this could be an adequate way of tabling the vote perpetually. (Post)
  4. Tales of Craigslist: Local band needs help: do they suck or not? Hmmmm. If you are asking the Craigslist community, I think you are sort of answering your own question. (Craigslist)
  5. Jerry Falwell: "The people who hate George Bush hate him because he's a follower of Jesus Christ." Are you kidding? The people who hate Bush wish he would follow in Christ's footies, preferably right up on the cross. We hear the President even owns his own timber company! (Leiby--scroll to the bottom, but don't miss Scalia and his hot, hot orgy talk)
  6. Oh, and, don't forget. DC Blogger Meetup tomorrow night. (DCist)

Monday, November 15, 2004

DC United bring sports glory to Washington!

A champion for DC! Posted by Hello

Dude. We were totally remiss to not mention the men of your DC United, who have returned to the heights of the MLS once again. After enduring a year of Tony Kornheiser braying about how the only thing the United had going for it was Not-Yet-Ready Freddy, it satisfies us to no end that our UVA homeboy Alecko Eskandarian--who was frequently benched so that Freddy could get some PT--came up with the two goals that made the difference.

And yeah, Kansas City fans, we've seen the replay of the second goal. Why don't you go open your newspaper...that's right. Turn to the sports page. Open it up. See...right there? It says you lost, 3-2. And you know what? No matter how many times you look at it, it's gonna say the same thing. So, see you next year.

DCeptette: Don't Drink the Water Version

  1. The hoity-toit in Spring Valley continue to be plagued by a high incidence of neighborhood pestilence. Spring Valley was a major dumping ground for chemical weapons back in the WWI era--you know, before we realized that we could simply give that shit to bloodthirsty dictators and then indict them after the fact. While common sense should have anyone convinced that two and two makes a mean motherfuckin' four, some medical experts, in keeping with our President's neo-Lysenkoist view of modern science, say that studies are inconclusive. So, look for those studies blaming trial lawyers real soon! (DCist)
  2. Ooopsie-daisy! As time ticks off the clock in the Linda Cropp-induced overtime period in the battle for DC baseball, the threads continue to unravel for Team Tony Williams. The Washington Post is reporting that their independent analysis reveals that there are $174 million dollars in hidden costs that aren't factored into the Mayor's estimate. And, we at The DCeiver challenge you to find anything in this town built on budget. (Post, via DCist)
  3. We see a hook for greenlighting a third Anaconda movie: When you see what a massive, thick, trouser snake Dick Cheney's packing in his chinos, it's hard to fathom how Lynne Cheney ended up on the other side of the culture war. Nevertheless, it does ably explain what it was that scared the heterosexuality out of Mary. (Unbefuckinglievable photo available on Wonkette)
  4. Robert I.H. Hammerman, retired Baltimore Circuit Court judge and top-ten All Time on the Judicial All-Name Team, mysteriously commits suicide in what appears to be a long and well-thought out plan to avoid the pain of Alzheimer's Disease and the potential to being named to Bush's Supreme Court. (Post)
  5. The Moonie DIgest warns that we must be vigilant to prevent "regulation" from sabotaging the home-schooled. We couldn't agree more! Any single piece of "regulation" may in itself ensure that the home-schooled learn something, and then we'd all be potentially risking something when we simply throw their resumes in the garbage can. By ensuring that no governmental oversight occurs, we can keep the home-schooled unemployable forever. Who's seriously against this? (The Moonie Chowder Society Scribble Sheet)

The Weekender, Part One: Full Minute of Mercury

The DCeiver spent Friday night down on U Street, for an evening of rock at the Velvet Lounge. After hearing the hivemind of the DC Blogspiracy stand and applaud local faves Full Minute of Mercury, I thought that I had to see what they'd do for an encore at their headlining gig. Beginning the evening at Polly's, we had the opportunity to meet up with FMHg guitarist Tom and lead chanteuse Kelly, who were impressive in how well they had scouted Juliette Lewis' filmography and in their patience for the smattering of references that only the Futurama obsessed would go around spouting.

There was a terrific crowd at the VL that evening. Apparently, Big Yawn's Masthead of the Obvious had decided en masse to attend the Pedro the Lion show, because I didn't run into any 4'3" indie rock critics who wanted to scowl and shove a red hot pair of fireplace tongs up my ass. (We look forward to hearing about the PtL show from them, and have heard they're trying to decide whether it's getting a 7.4 or a 7.6. on the Big Yawn Rating Scale of Super Awesomeness.) Many of the patrons that night supported me in my courageous campaign of
Being Nice to Sex Workers, as well as my fervent belief that if U2 can have their own iPod, then certainly someone should make a custom one for Gweneth Paltrow's kid Apple. (It's just the right thing to do, Mr. Jobs!)

We caught the lion's share of the opener,
Rockbot, who are from The DCeiver's semi-ancient stomping grounds of Richmond, Virginia. While I didn't think they were quite up to the level of Full Minute or second-on-bill Karmella's Game, this was a great band to start this bill off--fun, loud, and loaded with analog synth with a little humorous bravado thrown in for good measure. They were very reminiscent of The Rentals--so I was basically won over because it called to mind the Weezer family of rock (and I've been known to bust a track or two from the Chopper One CD, my bitches). I think that they've got a dark side somewhere in their sound that they might be smart to explore more further that could potentially knock their audiences off their guard. But I give them their props--I've seen plenty of amateur crap on local bills in DC, and Rockbot were steady in performance and confident in what they came to do.

Really, I only have one quibble. On their website, they state that they hail "from the unlikely streets of Richmond, Virginia." Forgive me for saying, but what's so unlikely about Richmond's streets? Sure, they celebrate civil war heroes and call Jeff Davis "the President" and they occasionally flood, but Richmond has a proud tradition of paved roads dating back to at least the month before I moved there. I will say this: making a left turn in Richmond on said streets is unlikely.

Next up was
Karmella's Game. These guys have one of the cutest websites around, though I have to admit, I spent hours trying to win on the website, until I realized that the theme was only, like, a metaphor, and there weren't any fabulous prizes to be had. But I digress. Would I recommend Karmella's Game to a friend? Damn skippy I would. I would recommend Karmella's Game to an enemy in the hopes I would make a new friend. Shit, I would recommend Karmella's Game to John Ashcroft, because this music would turn him into one sodomy-happy little puppy dog after about four songs. I can tell you that this is one of those bands that made me just want to lick rocketsauce off of somebody's ass. Tight, tight, rock, with harmony vocals pleasing the ears even as the high-energy analog synths and laser pointed guitars were shredding them to wee pieces.

And what can I say about your conquering heroes in Full Minute of Mercury. Yeah, they brought it, and I caught it, and they blew my mind before I thought it. They are full of punch, just tireless in their devotion to hunting fun down and serving it up to the audience before it can run away. Based on some previous MP3's the band made available, they've grown to be a really great band. I have no idea right now if lead singer Kelly was the vocalist on some of the stuff I heard before, but if so, she's gotten 300% better, and if not, then welcome Kelly, who's like every fun girl friend you ever had on college rolled into one. We're sorry to hear that FMHg will be losing their excellent bass player--who ranks pretty highly on the Official Mary Prankster Rock Charisma scale. The call-out of the evening was definitely the dude who shouted "No more turnover!" It'd be interesting to hear from Chris if FMHg is locked into needing a female voice at that position for the sake of sound or not, and how soon they make have a new bassist installed. This band's next gig is the first week of December--but if history is any guide, Full Minute just keeps on trucking. Chris has coached the band up pretty well, perhaps to the point that they can plug and play pretty readily. But at any rate, FMHg is fucking madcap, pyrotechnic abandon. I think you've got to put these guys on DC band A-list if they're not already there. And if this particular bill ever plays again, I'd say break your own neck to see it. This shit was the mad notes.

Part Two of The Weekender: Full Evening of Defenestration is coming later, and will describe how all you Kerry-loving fools can meet in secret someplace where the Bush administration can't do shit to hurt you, as well as describe how The DCeiver, sadly, missed an opportunity to Make A Difference.

Friday, November 12, 2004

Convergence of the Blogspiracy

Good sweet Jeebus! Tonight, at the Velvet Lounge, it seems very likely that a Holy Tango of DC Bloggers is poised to occur.

Also, if you want to see yours truly get his head jumped up and down on for a change, check in at the 9:30 Club's Forum as the Army of Big Yawn makes some cheap whine and cheese.

Yeah, it's pink and grey. Deal wit' it.

Calling All Enthusiasts!

Curious thing: NYC nu-wave darlings Interpol come to town, and DC can't stop buzzing about...Full Minute of Mercury? Ha! Take that, Lower East Side! To steal from VH1, the FMHg Fun Bunch are totally having the Best Week Ever, and if you are still unconvinced, I'd suggest you hop on out to the Velvet Lounge tonight and see for yourself. And, hey, FMHg, feel free to take a victory lap on us, you've earned it. With Rockbot and Karmella's Game, doors open at 8.

I'm sorry, but it's hard not to be a little bit peeved at Blake Gopnik's puerile, pissy takedown of Art-o-Matic in the Style Section, this week. You'd think Art-O-Matic fucked his mother or something! Well, we think Art-o-Matic is the bee's knees, so go to it, already! Art, music, performance...you're gonna like something. And, Blake, give the fucking goggle-eyed cultural elitism a rest, okay? Maybe if you do, we'll end up with a President who's more likely to fund the arts.

Jay Parini
We applauded when Wonkette defended the South's honor by citing The DCeiver's favorite American author, William Faulkner (our favorite work: Pylon). If you're a Faulkner fan, or are simply a fan of people who like to talk about Faulkner, or if you are trying to get into that AU English major's panties because she can hold her bourbon and her South Carolina accent makes you dizzy with carnal thoughts, head over to Politics and Prose this Monday and listen to Jay Parini talk about his new book, One Matchless Time: A Life of William Faulkner. Afterwards, you and that AU coed can go back to your place and make some hot sound and fury.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

DCeptette: Perilously perched on the precipice of total Elizabeth Wurtzeldom version.

  1. Alberto Gonzales named Attorney General. Plans are afoot to alter inscriptions on DoJ to read "Everybody should expect the Spanish Inquisition!" (Post)
  2. If you woke up thsi morning with the funny feeling that your frayed nerves had healed to the point that you were contemplating taking a day off from varying your escape route from Starbucks, well that's because the DC Terror Alert has predictably dropped a notch. It's all a part of Susan Sheybani's "Hey America! Take some Prozac already!" campaign. (Post)
  3. World of Craigslist: Do you still need proof that Friendster is turning us into a bunch of simpering dimwits? (Craigslist)
  4. If you're not a fan of Art-O-Matic, you could make a reasoned argument about how the quality of art is related to the uncommon perspective of uncommon creators. Or, you could just have a righteous, sniveling shit-fit about it. Guess what side of the futon art critic Blake Gopnik woke up on today? (Post)(<----link fixed, 11/12)
  5. The futile gestures of the young and disaffected, now 20% more endearing than a teddy bear stuffed with broken Corona bottles. (dcindymedia)

The Five Question WEST WING Study Guide: "As my Chief of Staff Gently Weeps"

  1. Okay. NBC is perfectly within their rights to use their promos as creative misdirection--in this case, pretending that Toby Zeigler was actually going to resign--but don't you think that each time they do that bullshit, a tiny piece of their soul takes up residence in the Inferno? Because I do.
  2. After the month long build-up to Jimmy Smits' appearance on the show, would you say that his debut left you a) underwhelmed, b) very underwhelmed, or c) I'm just trying to get over the stupid fucking Jimmy Smits comes back from the dead to haunt Dennis Franz on NYPD Blue craptasm to even begin to weigh in on his totally underwhelming West Wing appearance.
  3. Seriously. If you worked in the actual West Wing, wouldn't you have punched Will Bailey in the mouth by now?
  4. Kristin Chenoweth joining the show is a clear example of a) Ainsley Hayes regret b) a desperate stab at re-Sorkinizing the show c) who's Kristin Chenoweth?
  5. Is it just me, or does the sight of Donna puttering around in a wheelchair make you feel like she's some Hitchcock blonde in search of a psychological caper film?

How many rock critics does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

I don't know the answer to the above question, but I think that once the room has filled with more than about seven rock critics, you aren't getting any light until the sun comes up.

I hate to keep jumping up and down on Big Yawn's head, but while I was attending the baptism of a buddy's daughter the other day, it was pointed out to me by a tipster that one of Big Yawn's problems is, like, they are a fucking army of rock critics. Well, I checked out what passes for a masthead at their sight, and my eyes grew wide and aghast at what I found. Big Yawn has thirty-two fucking writers and six editors--which is totally fucking numbing. i can't think of a single rock magazine that employs that many writers. I mean, Chuck Klosterman and Sarah Lewitinn write all of Spin, by themselves these days, don't they? With help from Dave Eggers and Sia Michel's booty, I mean?

Thirty-two writers? That's just staggering! And bewildering, too. I don't know more than fifteen people who aren't totally full of shit when it comes to rock criticism in Washington, DC, and precisely none of them write for Big Yawn (though none write for the City Paper, either, in all fairness). What's amazing is for thirty-two writers, BY can just barely scrape out a paragraph every forty-eight hours. They should print T-shirts that read "Going broke on 32 opinions a day!"

But, when you approach BY's other problem--cited by Here's a Hint--that all of their record reviews tend to cluster around 6-8 on a ten point scale, it's clear that the over-abundance of writers is the problem. I'd bet that each one is basically reviewing something they're predisposed to already, and that alone is contributing greatly to BY's Special Olympic version of rock criticism. But, more to the point, having too many critics waters down the overall aesthetic of the organization as a whole. That's why BY doesn't have an aesthetic right now, and ultimately, why the website currently doesn't really stand for anything. Except, of course, that getting your buddies together for a game of online grabass is fun if you keep your standards low.

We don't expect BY to take the suggestion we offer, because these lames never do, but if they want to improve their site one-hundred fold right this very second, they should dump at least 28 of their "Staff Writers." Merge the remaining four with your four contributing editors, and there's your slate of critics. Who should get the spots of the lucky four? Pick the four people who have the nastiest and most opinionated perspectives who can also deliver the column inches. An aesthetic will emerge and your readers will get to reality test their opinions against those of your core critics. Once your readers have a sense of vocabulary, they'll get invested, keep coming back, and talk about how you guide them to good music choices.

Get it together, Big Yawn. You're a music site, not a fucking Baskin Robbins.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

DCeptette: Turn off the bright lights, I'm trying to sleep!

  1. Ooooohhh, SNAP! DC Council Chairwoman Linda Cropp gave DC Baseball the Heisman* yesterday as she tabled the scheduled vote on the stadium financing plan for two weeks as she attempts to secure an alternate plan that would largely privately finance the project. We're skeptical about her chances, but we're overjoyed at the comical underpinnings, as per usual. Again, we maintain that there are probably about 10,000 people in DC who would support a DC baseball team, so we think a stadium that will fit 15,000 people is adequate--even generous. This is the fucking Expos, after all. Do you disagree? Hey, well, send me an email at guesswhat@suckit.com. (Post)
  2. World of Craigslist: Arlington's "Party Scene?" Ummm, yeah. Tell you what, guy, maybe it's time to consider whether the reason everyone who pretended to be your friend has left you has more to do with you than you've previously thought. (Craigslist)
  3. In other DC Council news, your elected officials have rejected a measure that would have barred the shipment of hazardous materials through Washington, DC. Carol Schwartz complained that "there is an agenda here, and the agenda is to make the administration look bad in this area, and it is a national agenda." Ummm, actually, Carol, we're trying to keep the administration alive! But you're right, Carol, the longer the President stays alive, the worse he looks. We can't fault you for wanting him to die in a malathion explosion. (Post)
  4. If you see Arlen Specter today, give him a hug! And remind him next time to not say the loud part quiet and the quiet part loud. (The Hill)
  5. Speaking of the Heisman, did any DC Blogger actually go to the Interpol show last night? Don't tell me there was a total media shutout! Well, that's a crying shame, because our subway, she is a porno, too! Just look at the picture! Anyhoo, we love Weirdcurves, who loves Full Minute of Mercury, so, I guess by the transitive theory of equality, we love FMHg, too. (WeirdCurves)

*I'm afraid you have to be a fan of the obscure funk band Johnny Quest to get that reference, but for your own elucidation, just picture the award in your mind. -Eds

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

What, was "The Elitist Bunch of Hectoring Jerkwads Theatre Company" taken?

The DCeiver, being an ancillary player in the Washington, DC theatre scene, is subscribed to a goodly number of mailing lists. So if something happens in the world of local professional theatre, we know about it. Sometimes, we are even to blame.

But, we were disappointed and dismayed by a letter we received recently advertising an upcoming production of Diana Son's Stop Kiss at the Warehouse Theatre. In the first place, we were intrigued by any company that would stage this show after Woolly Mammoth did it. It's maybe not fair, but the way we see things, once Lee Mikeska Gardner, Holly Twyford and Rhea Seehorn put their stamp on a show in DC then that show is DONE, baby! Move on! So, any company that figures it could do better, I start thinking, "My, someone's has a great big pair of ostrich egg-sized BALLS in this town."

But, my heart sank when I saw the name of the theatre company that will be staging Stop Kiss. The Didactic Theatre Company.

Now, before you misunderstand--I don't know anyone in the Didactic Theatre Company. I have no reason to doubt their credentials. I have no claim to dispute their talent. I am certain that all involved are as sweet as pie, and they are pleasant to have around, and fun to have sex with, and can be counted on to pick you up at the airport or jumpstart your car if you are in need. Okay? Let me just say that.

But "The Didactic Theatre Company" is, without a doubt, the single worst name for a theatre company I have ever heard. And let me not sugarcoat it--as a name goes, it is worthy of total and absolute defaming. Short of calling youself the Holocaust Revisionists or The Young Rapists of Sheyboygan, calling yourself "didactic" is probably the worst possible thing you can advertise about yourself.

It's painfully clear that no one involved has any clue what the word didactic means! Well, let me take that back--they know it means "a : designed or intended to teach b : intended to convey instruction and information as well as pleasure and entertainment." What they do not seem to know is that the word didactic has a connotation beyond its denotation that is not at all appealing or positive. When people want to criticize someone for coming off as a lecturing, hectoring, know-it-all asshole, they use the word "didactic." The word is an extremely "in your face" descriptor of a person or entity that feels it knows more than you do and is totally, smugly certain of their superiority. It's not the least bit populist. It's frankly alienating. (It kind of dovetails weirdly with the problems the Democratic Party is having these days, to be honest.)

This is a word of advice, Didactic Theatre Company. YOU MUST CHANGE THAT NAME. There is no debate to be had. You have to change that fucking name right fucking now. Trust me, if I wasn't a fan of scrappy underdog theatre companies I wouldn't even give you this advice, I'd simply laugh and say: "Look at these dimwit dickhead douchebags who are stupidly telegraphing to people that they're a bunch of overeducated snobs who seem to think that we ought to line up and be inculcated in their brilliance."

All right, that was a little strong.

But if you have the good sense God gave a box of tulip bulbs you'll change that goddamned name.

DCeptette: Cage that tiger version

  1. Well, today's the day for the big DC Council Showdown on the Future of Baseball. Here's what you should know: First, he's got the votes, thanks to some lame duck council members who have resolved that having spent their careers not listening to the people, aren't about to start now. Second, Linda Cropp has apparently put together yet another plan--we hang our heads at the typical "get things done at the last minute" Council bullshit, but we love RFK. Can't you find it in your heart to love RFK, MLB? Third, when you ask the people, the people want a non-publicly financed team called the "Senators". Well, people, prepare to be disappointed. Finally, DCist says that surveys say the advent of a DC baseball team will draw people away from the Orioles. Good. Fuck the fucking Orioles. Fuck their sideways assholes. Fuck them with a splintery stick dipped in turpentine. (DCist, Post)
  2. World of Craigslist: CLer goes off on Dave Attell, claims to be just as funny, ugly; states: "I want a show where I cam roam around drink at full tilt." Hmmmm. We're not sure, but maybe The Beltway Boys is hiring... (Craigslist)
  3. Montgomery County high school students have all the fun as officials set up an obstacle course and put them through a drunk driving simulation. While this "simulation" is effected by having the participant don a pair of funky-ass goggles that distort reality to the point that you might vote Republican or come to believe you are inside an Outkast video, The DCeiver has long been the proponent of a drunk-driving amusement park ride--where people get wasted and, like, tool around in Nerf automobiles so no one gets hurt. Who's against this? (the Moonie Sue Pukey)
  4. Let me see if I can sum up Post rock critic Joe Haim's take on the Soledad Brothers' IOTA show: "Dude. Holy shit! This is awesome! Yes!! Fuckin' rock and roll!! Yes!! Hell fucking yeah!! I love the loud fricking ROCK!! This is so awesome!!! I am actually enjoying myself! I am actually having a good--uh...wait. I'm having a good time. Oh no...IfeeldirtynoIhatethisbandpleaseindierockmakemecleanagain" (Post)
  5. Apparently, Bush's Iraq-man on the NSC, Robert Blackwill, has been known to put his Cloisters neighbors off their breakfast by allowing unfettered access to his morning constitutional through his un-curtained windows. For everyone who wishes there was greater transparency in Iraq policy, be careful what you wish for blah blah cakes. One question: why do we not have a Wonkette live cam on this yet? (The Reliable Source)

Monday, November 08, 2004

October 2004--A Month of DCeption in Retrospect

Well, we're sorry we're about a week late with our October Retrospective, but that's what happens when your hard-fought electoral dreams become derailed because a bunch of asslickers in Ohio decide we have to divert our national defense to fighting gay people rather than actual mass-murderers. Nevertheless, this too shall pass. Besides, thanks to you, The DCeiver enjoyed it's best month yet. And that's even if you discount the generous boost the lovely Ana Marie Cox gave us at the end of the month. As per usual, we offer massive shout-outs to our friends in the blogosphere, who have spoken kind words on our behalf (I have "Like the Dec before it started to suck" tattooed on my ass), and who have even apologized for slights I can't even remember happening (it's all good, people), and who have just generally been the finest regional blogospiracy anyone could ever be a part of.

Here's what went down in Cocktober.

  • It was the Second Anniversary of the Sniper Attacks, and we remembered the good times. Next year, we'll remember the time we repurposed the content so we could take a short break.
  • Freddy Adu survived the jackbooted "no-fun" police thanks to some quick thinking students from Maryland.
  • The saga of the Washington baseball stadium continues--Mayor Williams skips town, anti-stadium forces know all is lost, and we caution about dual loyalty.
  • Jon Stewart comes to town, and David Patterson goes douchebag on me.
  • The fate of the free world is said to be wrapped up in the fabric of the National Football League and the Redskins match with the Packers, except that it totally turns out not to be true.
  • A pair of U.S. Senators go mental shithouse on us--one even claiming that the U.S. Capitol was gonna blow sky high during the election. If only.
  • The DCeiver shares some beers with Rob Goodspeed of the DCist in a meeting that future generations will hail as a meeting between the two greatest minds in the country, after Jack White and Barack Obama. DCeiver explains why it's not our fault that DC isn't as cool as it could be.
  • We repurpose the Killers fine song "Indie Rock and Roll" in order to capture the pulse of the local music scene. Mission accomplished.
  • The DCeiver lucks out, gets the Rehnquist thyroid cancer story before anyone else.
  • And Marion Barry--he's back and better than ever!

DCeptette: Back from the funeral version.

  1. With DC deeply divided on how to proceed on the baseball stadium matter, and time running out to get the matter settled before the new DC Council Members turn a yes vote into a no vote, Linda Cropp saw an opportunity to do what she does best: offer a deeply stupid and universally disregarded alternative. (Post)
  2. WMATA Chief Executive Richard White, who had previously spurned the Metro system for the privacy of his own automobile, recently saw the Joe Pesci movie The Super and was apparently so moved by the tale of a hard-hearted industrialist whose soul was touched by a bunch of poor tenement dwellers, that he has resolved to take the Orange Line to work from now own. We just want to remind Mr. White that it's no fair if he's just going to sit up front on the driver's lap. (DCist)
  3. "It's been a bad year, the commuters whine / For tragic heroes on board the Red Line." Read the Post for why the Red Line commuters deserve a city-wide pity party. (Post)
  4. A warning to motorists: Regional deer are expected to be getting their swerve on soon. As a result, be prepared to get your own swerve on behind the wheel, as the DC-Metro deer orgy spills into the streets (Moonie Freaks)
  5. Take heart, Democrats. All the good bars in town belong to us. (The Hill)

Thursday, November 04, 2004

The Five Question WEST WING Study Guide: "CJ Jumps off a Cliff, or A Good Start"

  1. During the scene where CJ scolded Josh for eating too many donuts, didn't you expect the NBC star and rainbow to come flying by with the words "The More You Know" underneath?
  2. With regard to Toby and Josh and their various conversations about who should do Leo's job, couldn't you lick the passive aggression right off the screen.
  3. Abigail Bartlet was full of comfort for her husband, insisting that he not take the blame for Leo's heart attack. At some point, didn't you expect him to snap back, "Where was all this reasoned understanding when our daughter was kidnapped, you crazy inconsistent bitch?"
  4. In what way are the perpetual announcements for Jimmy Smits arrival at the end of every episode like dating a Mormon girl?
  5. Don't you miss the early seasons of this show, when it was a refuge from the Bush administration? It's going to be a long four years.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

Get your Votergasm on.

Are you the kind of registered voter that requires there to be at least a wafer-thin pretext before signing up for the anonymous sexual antics you crave? Well, tonight, you're gonna want to head to a Votergasm Party! The election is likely to awkward and uncomfortable, but there's also a reasonable chance that it could end by midnight! Votergasm is the only certain way we have to guarantee that awkwardness will be dragged out until the wee hours of the morning.

Where to go:
ADAMS MORGAN, 15th and Columbia
"Votergasm Party Adams Morgan"
Pros: "well-appointed apartment" perfect for hesitant conversation, giant rats in back alley puts shame into perspective
Cons: When the host says: "Prefer equal numbers of girls to boys, and of course, more girls are always better than guys," you just know this joint's gonna be heavier on the sausage than a Jimmy Dean factory
Contact: esqdc@yahoo.com

Where to go:
GWU Thurston Hall 1900 F St. NW Washington DC 20052
Pros: Organizer heralds Thurston as the "Second most sexually active dorm in the country."
Cons: Studies show that high and localized incidences of sexual promiscuity typically goes hand in hand with high and localized incidence of unattractiveness.
Contact: largointruso@hotmail.com

Where to go:
Sketchytown Read the description: "Now that you've pledge, Massage Therapist is offering free massage to single ladies, must be registered to vote and sexy. At your dorm or hotel room, no cost,if you mention votrgasm call stoney at 202-271-5522."
Pros: The organizer has an endearing lack of a grasp on grammer and sentence structure.
Cons: Everything else.

Contact: ahjgroup@earthlink.net

Where To Go
Lucky Bar, 1221 Conn Ave.
Pros: It's been combined with the "Girls of the Ivy League Party", so it's a chance to get away from constantly banging those Seven Sisters bitches. Plus, it's at the Lucky Bar, which probably runs sticky with sexual desperation most nights.
Cons: If Kristin Kovner, the event organizer, is any indication of the types of people who'll be hoping for a Votergasm, then I'd worry, because she definitely the wonkiest sex-party organizer in the city. She demanded I call her on the phone when I emailed with all of TWO questions, saying "I don't do email interviews." To which I replied: "Umm. Okay. Just so you know, The Deceiver doesn't really have the time or the inclination to be phoning up complete nobodies at the drop of a hat."
Contact: Stick up Ass: dcvotergasm@hotmail.com

Where to Go:
Somewhere in Arlington
Pros: Planner seems to care about guests comfort.
Cons: Email address is MrFuninVA@yahoo.com. So expect lots of snakeskin and obtrusively placed porn.
Contact: Don't

Where to Go:
Greenbelt, MD
Pros: Enthusiastic planner, promise of food, drinks, live music. Highrise with balcony with fantastic view, sounds like good taste involved, planner provides copious directions.
Cons: It's apparently not going to happen, as the host had to leave town for work reasons.
Contact: matt@dilatedesign.com

Where to Go:
Alexandria, VA
"Voters Having Fun"
Pros: Organizer promises an even mix of males and females as well as food and drink.
Cons: I don't know about you, but I just can't get it up when I'm too close to the Masonic Temple.
Contact: jj406890@yahoo.com

Where to Go:
Annandale, VA
"Looking for local girls."
Pros: Organizers pitch party as the low-key alternative to a big party.
Cons: I don't know about you, but the description reads like at any minute, some teen sex comedy will break out. Like this ad's been placed by Bob Shrum's kids in the hopes that "the Girl Next Door" will materialize while their parents are grab-assing at Kerry Central.
Contact: tennisdude222@hotmail.com -- I mean, you KNOW you have a friend in the Tennis Dude!

Wildest Party in DC with ReDefeatBush, WomenAgainstBush and ActforLove at International Spy Museum
Pros: Great setting, great food and drink. They had us at "defeat bush", plus it sounds like an excellent chance to observe gynecologists "practicing their love for each other."
Cons: Even though he did recommend orgies as a way to "relieve social tensions", I wouldn't count on fulfilling my long-standing fantasy of watching Antonin Scalia get DP'ed inside the International Spy Museum.
Contact: david@redefeatbush.com