Friday, April 29, 2005

Calling All Enthusiasts!!

Stars @ Black Cat
Canadian collective Stars is one of the most versatile bands I've heard in a long time. Their new disc Set Yourself On Fire has extraordinary musical range--at times spry and new wavy, other times soulful, with everything you could possibly want in a musical vocabulary, from glitch to grunge. Don't pass up a chance to watch them put it together live. Tonight, they'll be opening for Ivy at the Black Cat. Big ringing endorsement from DCeiver. As always, call ahead to see if the sound will be operated by professionals or amateurs.

The Holiday Girl is more than just a cartoon cutie-pie. She's one half of Razzmatazz, and for four hours and five bucks, she and partner in crime DJ ReddAJ are going to drop a needle and trace the bloodlines of Britpop, from glam to post-punk to today's indie. Also at Black Cat, Saturday Night at 10pm, in the Backstage.

The Colorado Catechism
Very soon, Cecil Baldwin will be advertised on these pages as a member of Getman's Eleven--who'll be bringing the world premiere production of Behold! to Washington, DC. In the meantime, check out Cecil and Deborah Kirby in Journeymen Theatre Ensemble's The Colorado Catechism, which we're happy to report opened in residence at the Washington Shakespeare Company right on schedule. We hear good things. At the Clark Street Playhouse in Arlington. Directions are right here.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

DCeptette: Somewhere a clock is ticking version

  1. Your Congress is incapable of making ethics love, so guess what? "ETHICS WAR IS DECLARED!" Or so quoth The Hill. Yesterday was, indeed, a day that will live in ethical infamy. Shock and awe campaigns are beginning. Journos are getting embedded in ethics. Ethical bunkers stand to get busted. How much time do we have to build a statue of DeLay so we can tear it down? Can I be the guy to check his hair for lice? And, above all, will members of Congress be allowed to ethically fight in the war room? Who cares? It's a good day when those combover bitches can even tell me the spelling of the word "ethics." (the Hill)
  2. Going Out Goobies complain of the Eighteenth Street Lounge being overrun by "'spirited' groups of young professionals." What do they mean by that? Are they filled with the Holy spirit? Evil spirits? Are they running an Ouzo still or something? I have no idea what they mean, and you know what? They have no idea what they mean either. (Gogs)
  3. Craigslister shouts his praise for DC's "Mulatto women." "It's like they blend the best of both races!" he says. What a nice thing to say! Unfortunately, he expounds on what he means by "best", with embarrassing results. Now the only tasty blend he'll be sippin' on is a MooLatte at the DQ. Ooooh, count it! (Craigslist)
  4. Hot damn! They caught the serial arsonist, a fifty year old fast-food restaurant manager named Thomas "Gonna Make You" Sweatt. Guess what? He was a quiet, low-key guy who never bothered anyone! Just like all "serial" anythings. (Post)
  5. The Washington Post, now at the end of April, has still got their "snow cam" on live. Seems a real waste of resources to pay this expense for something that essentially reports no useful news or insight of any kind. In other news, though, the Washington Post Snow Cam celebrated this week after it was announced that it would be joining the Going Out Gurus. (DCist)

My conversation with The Examiner

As you may already know, those cats at DCist reported today that the Examiner had a big error in their paper today, when they reasoned that DC should not have statehood because it would be a bad idea to add three more representatives to Congress's 585 members. Except, circa now, the Congress actually has 535 members. How did the Examiner make such a basic mistake? Well, The DCeiver sat down to talk to Examiner editor John Wilpers to get the full story.

DCEIVER: Mr. Wilpers, I have to say that I'm really concerned about the quality of your operation. I noticed today in the Examiner that you have 585 persons in Congress. That there are only 535 members is a matter of basic fourth grade civics. What can you say about your paper that will reassure us that you all aren't total clownshoes?

WILPERS: Well, let me start by pointing out the most important thing about your concern. You say, right up front, that you "noticed" the Examiner. Right? You noticed us! Damn right you did. We at the Examiner are making one hell of a noticeable paper for Washington, DC. You see, we bring it. We bring it large. We get the eyeballs. We get noticed. Motherfuckers are talking all the time: "Hey, Examiner...what, Examiner..." or "Damn! Examiner! Solid!" Noticeable? Fuck, yeah. Check out our fucking kiosks. Red and black. Red and black! We are the fucking White Stripes of DC Journalism! [singing] Dead leaves and the dirty groundwhen I know you're not arooooound....

DCEIVER: Well I'm not sure I see what you're talking about. I'm just pointing out that to get the number of people in Congress wrong, when you are a newspaper from the Nation's capital--that's just a pretty big mistake...

WILPERS: Look, DC--do you mind if I call you DC?

DCEIVER: Yes. Please don't.

WILPERS: DC, look. If we say that there are 585 members of Congress, who's being hastier? Us, for rushing it to print without factshecking? Or is it really you, who quickly jumped to the conclusion that our 585 figure was an error.

DCEIVER: But it was an error--it is an error. And you corrected that error later in the day. You basically admitted it was an error.

WILPERS: Did we? Did we, now? You just don't get what we're all about. 585, 535...what's the difference. Maybe tomorrow we say that there are 600 members of Congress!

DCEIVER: Well, that would also be wrong. And what's more is that it's sort of weird considering your case against DC statehood is that there are too many members of Congress now, as it is. Now you're talking about adding sixty-five more.

WILPERS: So? So, the next day we say there are 100! Or maybe 20, or two even!

DCEIVER: You can't do that.

WILPERS: Oh, no? Poof! It's done. There are now only twenty members of Congress! IT HAS BEEN DECREED!!

DCEIVER: What? You can't just make shit up! That's not reporting.

WILPERS: "Reporting." Fuck that. That's for losers. You know FOX news? Their motto: "We report, you decide?"

DCEIVER: Yeah, I know it.

WILPERS: For losers. At The Examiner, it's "We Decide, You Can Suck It." And you know what? Maybe next time we say there are only two members of Congress. And maybe these two are Mary Landrieu and Stephanie Herseth. How would that grab you?

DCEIVER: Well, I have to admit. Landrieu and Herseth would be the hottness.

WILPERS: Okay, see! And just a minute ago you were saying that this kind of reporting was "a mistake."

DCEIVER: It would still be a mistake.

WILPERS: [Sighs] Mistake. Is that all you can see? Try smelling. Smell. You smell that?

DCEIVER: Umm. Drakkar?

WILPERS: That's not mistakes you're smelling. That's opportunity. Opportunity is what you smell. In your world of facts and truths and things you can learn in school, have you left any room for opportunity? Because at The Examiner, we're all about opportunity. Do you want to get a pile of newsprint full of facts? Facts that you yourself admit you already know? Wouldn't you rather have a paper full of dreams? A broadsheet chock full of hopes? A journal dedicated to firing up that part of you that's deep down inside, waiting to be inspired, waiting to reach for fucking GREATNESS?

DCEIVER: Well, I can't say that I do, really.

WILPERS: Well, that's your story. That's your saga. But there are other people out there, like you, noticing The Examiner. And they're noticing their dreams. They're noticing Their opportunities. They're noticing greatness. And they are reaching for it. They're crying out for it. And when I drive to work in the morning, in the early light of a new day dawning, I drive down the street of my neighborhood and you know what I see? I see people's lawns with the Examiner sitting on them, all wrapped up--a little bag of choose your own fuckin' adventure. A little paper for people who want to answer the call in their lives.

DCEIVER: They're not answering the call. You're just chucking it on their lawn unsolicited.

WILPERS: Hey, all I'm saying is my street is full of people who are taking the Examiner and raising themselves to the next level.

DCEIVER: Well, you obviously don't live in a predominantly black neighborhood.

WILPERS: Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Play that card. Yeah, yeah. Sure. Toss that out there. Hoo, boy. Haven't heard that one in the past five minutes!

DCEIVER: Hey, your tendencies to avoid certain places is well-documented.

WILPERS: Look again. You jump to conclusions. You're like a long jumper to conclusions. A fucking triple jumper. A hop, a skip and oops I landed in some conclusions.

DCEIVER: Really?

WILPERS: Yes, really. You don't know anything about why we distribute where we distribute. Look. You like black people? Because I like the black people. Never met them, but I like 'em. Like 'em a lot. Now, why would I want to hurt people I don't even know?

DCEIVER: Hurt people? How would giving them a newspaper hurt them?

WILPERS: They could catch the Fever.

DCEIVER: The Fever?

WILPERS: Anschutz Fever.

DCEIVER: Anschutz Fever?

WILPERS: That's right. Anschutz Fever. Now, you want me to distribute The Examiner to black neighborhoods? Well, I'm not going to take the chance! I don't know how they'll respond to Anschutz Fever! What if it kills the black people? Because I don't know. It could be one of those diseases that affects a race differently. One day, I hope to meet the black people. And when I do, I don't want the first words out of my mouth to be, "Oh, no. You're dead. You died of Anschutz Fever." Is that what you want?

DCEIVER: I don't think there's such a thing as Anschutz Fever.

WILPERS: Oh, there's an Anschutz Fever all right. I've got it BAD.

DCEIVER: Well, aren't you concerned that I might catch the Anschutz Fever?

WILPERS: Dude! Why wouldn't you want to catch the Anschutz Fever? That's crazy talk.

DCEIVER: I think we're having some kind of circular conversation.

WILPERS: Exactly! BINGO! A circle. A perfect circle. Geometric precision alongside wondrous mystery. Secants, tangents, radii...that's what we aim to be here at The Examiner. The perfect circle. The kind you can only draw with a compass. Or a spyrograph.

DCEIVER: I'm confused.

WILPERS: You're only confused because you're finally coming face to face with The Examiner. You're finally staring into The Examiner's eyes. You're finally considering just giving in to the sweet embrace of the Examiner! And The Examiner? The Examiner is staring back. Staring back and cooing in your ear, "Baby. It's okay. It can be this good between us. It can be this hot between us. IT can be this RIGHT between us."

DCEIVER: This has become somewhat disturbing.

WILPERS: Don't you want to get wet...with Examination?


WILPERS: Come pluck me. Right now. Pluck me like a flower.

DCEIVER: Okay. This conversation is over.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

You never forget your first Splash Day.

BUSH: Do you still have Splash Day?


BUSH: You have to be a baby boomer to know what I'm talking about.


BUSH: I'm not saying whether I came or not on Splash Day. I'm just saying, Do you have Splash Day?


Oh, yeah. Memories of Baby Boom Generation. Splash Day, according to Drudge, is an "adult oriented" festival on the beaches of Galveston, Texas. Bush, apparently, participated back in the day, but can't remember whether he came or not--based upon the quantities of Lone Star our Commander Salamander in Chief used to hose down his gullet, we're betting he didn't come. Performance is, after all, everything on Splash Day.

Of course, we're amused by the whole "you have to be a Baby Boomer to know what I'm talking about" line. I wouldn't brag. You see, it turns out that Splash Day is now strictly for the gays. That rocks. I guess somebody messed with Texas after all! But still--where the previous generation stormed the beaches at Normandy, the Texas Baby Boomers slunk off their own beaches out in the throes of pasty heterosexual shame. The whole pitiable story is finally being told in the new book by the author of The Greatest Generation:

Prepare Yourselves for the Next Big Thing

"Hey! Watch where you're going!"

"Jeez. Sorry. Didn't mean to run into you like that."

"Oh, look dude. You got Bluestate in my DCist!"

"So, check it out! You got your DCist all over my Bluestate!"

"Fuck. What are we going to do now?"

"Same thing we always do: get drunk and cover it with tangy salsa!"

"Olé, bitches!"

Posted by Hello

DCist. Bluestate. Vaguely Latin motifs. You know you want it.

DCeptette: Putting the broke in broken-hearted version.

  1. Hallelujah. Mandy, this is MUCH better. And it even looks as if whoever calls himself the editor on the masthead may have even edited it. (Big Yawn)
  2. The ducklings at the Treasury Building are hatching this week. And full tilt Pale Male insanity is already growing in the District. Most expect the children's book Make Way For Ducklings to play itself out this week as the newly hatched kids will be led by their mommy to the mots convenient body of water. But what about the traffic? The serial arsonist? Borf? What if one of the ducks falls into a persistent vegetative state and Tom Delay isn't around to lead it to Jeebus? Not to worry, people. According to the news, the ducks are expected to receive a Secret Service Escort. Meanwhile, in Darfur, no one's even heard of The O.C.! (WJLA)
  3. Hey, Gogs. If you have some sort of New York City inferiority complex, then I'm really, really sorry. I gather from your return to "one-post-every-five-days" routine that it really eats at you. But most of us in the Metro Area don't exactly share your angst. So stop projecting your insecurities, mm'kay? And the next time you go out to Oya, why don't you bring along Janet? I thought she shits gold doubloons or something. (Googah)
  4. Alicia Keys comes to DC to inspire youth, ends up mulling whether to start her own charter school. Look for detailed coverage in the next issue of Career Suicide Quarterly. (The Sexaminer)
  5. DCist reports that a 50 Cent song written after The Game's manager assaulted a WKYS DJ has rubbed "emotional salt" in The Game's wounds. We recommend the use of emotional salt in The DCeiver's receipe for Vichysoisse of Unending Despondency. (DCist)

A Field Guide To Washington DC's Punk Ass Bitches

Posted by Hello

Admit it: you've long suspected this of those assclowns at the GW Bookstore. The rest: so obvs.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

DCeptette: Also, consider my indirect experiences with Edward Albee version.

  1. So, DC's own Studio Theatre had scored the US premiere of playwright (so fucking great playwright, that is!) Brian Friel's new piece Afterplay. Then a tiny ass nothing company in Cambridge, NY called the Theatre Company at Hubbard Hall, swooped in and staged their own production. Their own wholly unauthorized production. Yikes. For defying authorial intent, Hubbard Hall could have to pay out the ass to Studio. And, confidential to a whole circle of friends: Duh, of course that thought had already occurred to me! (Theaterboy)
  2. Dateline: Thursday evening, Adams Morgan. Stopping off to do some Amsterdamage, The DCeiver can't help wondering: why is every fifth person rocking the Napoleon Dynamite look? Is this some pollen related allergy? A new Federal holiday I wasn't aware of? Pod people sent to take over the block? Somebody please explain. (The VHS or Beta 7" helped settle the nerves, natch.)
  3. I'm not saying it's not great that Washington DC was named the second healthiest city in America. It's just that how are we going to take ourselves a victory lap with all the ankle deep puddles of mercury everywhere? And after we've run our lap, are we supposed to cool off with a tall glass of lead-enhanced water? How can we sleep when the serial arsonist is burning? And how can we dance manhole covers are high velocity? (Sperling's Best Places)
  4. Tysons Corner is the New Staten Island. (Post)
  5. DCist reports: "Students are taking to blogging to express observations and opinions." Wait. Wait wait wait. You mean--I could use this blog thingy to state opinions? Now why didn't I think of that? (DCist)
  6. Indeed, CPMC, we have a healthy respect for Kelly Ann Collins--as well we should, seeing as she could, today, on a whim, buy and sell us a thousand times over. But mainly, we just love how she can take four sentences and have us piss ourselves with laughter. Her blog entry, "Pope Schmope"= so very best. Now that Socialites is live again, we have to pitch: "KAC and DCist Mike Grass Get Matching Black Flag Tattoos." Sounds like: Best DCist photoessay ever! (Welcome back, Socialites)

Friday, April 22, 2005

Deep inside 930 Forum headquarters...

"We're basically unemployable," brags GGW, preparing another seven comments about how poorly he's been mistreated.

We have discovered their credo. (The Phat Phree, via just about everybody)

Actually, we'd like to make commenting easier for the Anonnieheads who are angry at The DCeiver, so we've broken down their chief gripes and assigned a numerical code. Now, if you want to comment, but find the process of hunting and pecking for the correct vowel combinations or waiting for your mom to call and tell you how the Caps Lock key works too time consuming, just use one of the numeric codes and get back to jerking it.

001="Get a life. Similar to the great one I have."
002="No one reads your blog, except me. I can't stop myself! Help me!"
003="My brain stopped working last October, and I think you're Here's a Hint. You coward! You, rich, sexy coward!"
004="Blargh! What--? How--? No!!! Gurgle gurgle. *Peep*"
005="You think you're so great. Well you aren't. Neener-neener."
006="Your steady readership and occasional praise is a constant source of sickness to me, but then, I am extremely needy."
007="Need proof that you're pathetic? Think about it: I"m the one telling you. And I'm pathetic. Now that's pathetic."
008="That's it! I am ignoring you! How do you like that? Hey! I'm talking to you! Can't deal with my silence, can you? I'm talking to you!"
009="You dirty DCist bastard."

Now, when you comment, just type in the number of the comment that most closely matches your current state of witlessness. Then send. Soon, you'll find you've saved so much time that you'll finally be able to take that bath you've been putting off since last fall.

I'll be happy to add additional comment codes just as soon as you come up with something different to say--and when I'm fully confident you're ready to take on the concept of "eleven."

You can thank me later.

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Everyday they love us less and less. (ALSO: The Freaky Geniuses at Neurobashing have a gift for all DC rock fans!)

Hey, 9:30phytes! How you livin'? I just figured you all we're relaxing all chilled in your Target chaise lounges today, because the funny thing is I don't see you guys raising up the High and Mighty Perfect Shitstorm and sending it over to the DC Metroblogs. What's the matter, kids? All blown out? Hot gastric gas in short supply? Well pop a Cox Inhibitor and break wind in that direction, kewl doods. It's just another betrayal for my fave set of interweb desperate housewives!

Okay...while they're getting painted blue and getting ready to ride on Metroblog Braveheart steez, I got news for rest of ya's. Let's cast our mind back to when this all began. The terrifying and angst-ridden bleats began after DCist showed the world about this page. Now, from what I understand, it was the GogBlog that actually made with the tippy tip, but no one on the 9:30 club was quoted as saying, "Boo" about it then because the GogBlog can go get stomped by Obie--nobody reads it, natch.

Well, thanks to my friends over at Neurobashing--who I shoulda blogrolled, like, way back in the late 90's, sorry about that, will remedy soon--now you can get that little soft announcement page delivered unto you RSS feed steez. Head on out to their Pure Rock Fury page, scroll down, and look for the Feeds of Fury. Drop 9:30 Club Tickets into yr aggregator and never miss out on a ticket sale again! Now, these pups was just birthed by Neurobashing's womb, so it may Taste Like...beta! So if it don't work good for you, drop them a line--they're good with the helping out!

Today is National High Five Day, My Bitches

You best be throwing friendly fives to the people you pass on the sidewalk today! Today is a day where we set aside differences and estrangement and offer up palm skins to your fellow man. We're talking National High Five Day, everyone. Which started in the place Where All Greatness Begins. Now it's national. Hence: "National." So make new friends, build new calluses, and remember: throwin' Too Slows on NH5D is considered gauchecakes.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

We've now given Louis XIV all the free advertising they could possibly deserve...

Hey Ratzinger! Man, you look like something I want... Posted by Hello

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

DCeptette: I predict a riot version.

  1. I've started to soften on Sully, but I still snicker when he goes all hysterical on us. Today he predicts: "a coming Civil War within Catholicism." Ehhh...maybe. Remember, this prediction is coming from a guy who probably refers to a haircut as a "follicular 9-11." (Sullivan)
  2. Capitol Weather reports nice temperatures, but why aren't we experiencing DC's famous humidity? Fucking gentrifying bastards, that's why. (Capitol Weather)
  3. *Snerk!* (Craigslist)
  4. On the GogBlog, every day is Happy Tard-Day. Here's a Hint needs to give them another clinic on titles that aren't totally insipid. (Gogs)
  5. Holy shit! Peter Marks has actually reviewed a play being staged in Washington, DC! Is he trapped under some kind of rock? Sweet Jeebus, I sure hope he's trapped under some kind of rock! (Post)

My Friend Flickr

I'm in a cottony web of emotion.

Wife of DCeiver very happy to be holding fabric.

DCSOB--your favorite fucking SAT Prep teacher ever. (You'll just have to trust me).

LCD Soundsystem/M.I.A. at 9:30 Club

Tickets are scheduled to go onsale on Cinco De Mayo, 10AM. At least for the time being, we'll let you know if this changes. After you get tickets, you'll want to come over to Chief Ike's Mambo Room, where, according to their website, Bluestate will be playing at our house.

Monday, April 18, 2005

Synergy is here for you to use.

Over at The Diner:

Serious football fans geek out for each year's draft, but does anyone ever look back with the analysis? The Diner does: check in sporty Travis Mills as he looks back on how the 2002 Draft eventually went for the teams in the League, and learn why some teams just never get it right.

Sometimes, a ten-hour movie about Filipinos turns out to not necessarily be the life-changing cinematic experience you thought it could be.

Jason rips open a month of April Fools.

And the usual six of one and a half dozen of the other.

The George Bush Disco Epidemic!


To put it briefly:

Bluestate: So hott. Very good time. Went with Wife of DCeiver, P.Vo (sipping on a rum and coke), and P.Vo.'s squeeze Ronni. Got trapped in my own clothing while being tutored on how to do that girlie "remove undergarment from beneath overgarment." There are pictures that will likely surface. Ach. Met Mr. Kriston Capps of Grammar: 911--a gentleman and a scholar, who's got little birdies telling him all about what Tom Delay tells his hairdresser. Shocking news: Tom Delay has a hairdresser! I thought it was all varnish, harvested from his decrepit soul. Celebrated DCSOB's new notoriety. Wife of DCeiver ends up shooting down would be suitor with matrimonial reality--however, we both agreed that the suitor's wingman exhibited extremely fluid technique, so those two are definitely going places. KG--though a Celtics fan, is hot for the Bullet's backcourt. Mainly caught setlists from Seeking Irony and Weird Curves--two very stylish filles, as usual.

You can see P.Vo and Ronni in Trapped By The Mormons, opening next weekend at the Warehouse Screening Room.

Prior to Bluestate, went to the HeresAHint housewarming party. Sorry, local musicians--his pad is better than yours, too. Guess who was in attendance, PK? Dr. Rhythm! Some visitors to thsi site, looking at Joe Monaghan in particular, may remember Dr. Rhythm from the wildly successful Sessions at The Second Floor of Casablanca, Featuring Keith Alnwick--yes, related to local news Alnwick, thanks for asking. Anyway, I cradled the Doctor in my arms for old times sake.

City Paper not only gave love to Bluestate this weekend--they featured quotes and pictures of the Wife of DCeiver! Grab a copy and peep the pictures of otustretched hands bearing hand stamps. On the array of nine hands, the WoD's delicate digit is smack dab in the middle, Velvet Lounge style.

Diagnoses: Need new computer. Also: need new sparkplugs. Toyota is very close to being rechristened the Schiavomobile. Hey, Culture of "Life" bitches, why don't you come pray over my car?

Rehearsals for Behold! began at Rorschach this weekend. Whole sections of the script pratically DARE and DEFY you to stage them. Still, good news is an already hilarious script's gotten even more packed with comic goodness. Bad news: Behold! will sadly add another hurdle to my already vast array of aesthetic deficiencies as I will be rocking the 'stache for the show. Some say: heinous Hal Linden style. These are the sacrifices you make to Bring Love Onstage, Guys.

Sunday, April 17, 2005

Make Up The Breakdown: Checkmate Edition

Featuring the rest of the world.

  • Garry Kasparov is whacked upside the head with a chess board! Oh, Deep Blue...not everything can be solved by sending some kid to beat Kasparov down. Someday, you'll understand that.
  • Unfortunate Confluence of Headlines. Running at #1, Yahoo's Most Popular News Stories: "Aging Surfers Find Vitality in the Waves." At #2: "Massive Wave Damages, Diverts Cruise Ship."
  • I guess New York City wants to make a good impression on James of YI8DC fame, because the fugly H&M Advertecture has been removed from the Flatiron Building. Now, nobody tell him that he can't afford a house in New York City, either! (Curbed)
  • Damn. Moby finally does something worthy of buzz and it turns out to have been all a lie. (Also: Curbed)
  • This American Life's Ira Glass to marry writer Anaheed Alani. Their children shall, of course, usher in a new Reign of Fire and Terror, just as foretold in the prophecy. (Gapers Block)
  • Austinist: Most days, it truly is vastly superior to a broken monitor.
  • Even more fucking funny than a play about Bloc Party. Seriously. (Fitted Sweats, via TMFTML)
  • Thanks to the mighty Uncle Grambo, who brought us this picture, now we know that the soon-to-be-released Limp Bizkit record will deal with Fred Durst's courageous battle with ovarian cancer. Holy Durstbored Confessional, Batman!

Friday, April 15, 2005

Hello Blogosphere. It's nearly time for your Ted Leo show.

I know you guys out there on the interwebs go nuts for Mr. Leo. I'm partial to "Ballad of a Sin Eater" myself. So, please take note that you are reminded of your duty to appear at the upcoming Ted Leo/RX show at the 9:30 club, with Mary Timony, June 23rd.

You know I'll tell you when they go onsale! Check here though, because the 9:30 Club told me yesterday while we were hanging out that it totally wants you to buy tickets.

Don't forget, though, to click on Ted Leo's link, since apparently you must learn about his tour from his own website in order to be inoculated against Precious Dork Disease.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Cockblocking the Bloc Party: A Play in Three Acts

ACT ONE: Two 9:30 forum denizens are discussing the impending news of Bloc Party tickets on sale:

Scenester: Man, I am totally stoked about the Bloc Party show!

Hipster: Word. And the best part is, right now, only we know about it!

Scenester: That's right. Only us. And that's the way it should be. I'm so sick of these people showing up at shows, who obviously only learned about it from some blog.

Hipster: Or the big advertisement the 9:30 club puts out in multiple newspapers each and every week.

Scenester: Yeah. What's that about? Who ever heard of a venue advertising?

Hipster: Or a publication of some sort actually printing information?

Scenester: Those guys are totally lame. The only people who buy tickets that way are totally lazy people. I hate those lazy people. They throw off our purity control methods. The 9:30 club, I'm sorry to say, is no place for lazy people who aren't prepared to painstakingly page through artist's websites or join the Forum.

Hipster: True dat. (imitating one of those people) But I have a job! Friends and family! Non-musical pursuits that demand my time!

Scenester: They're not real fans. Just lazy pretenders. God I hate those lazy lazy fucks.

Hipster: I hate lazy people, too. So, you gonna call tomorrow when tickets go on sale?

Scenester: What are you talking about?! We have ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD to do that! I'm going to roll around in my pajamas spreading orange marmalade on my coffee table for a few hours first.

Hipster: Yeah. I'm going to loll around, maybe yawn a few times, post about seven hundred times, and then maybe I'll call--that is, if I don't feel like joining you for that whole marmalade thing.

Scenester: Awesome. You're a true fan!

Hipster: So are you.

[Webster enters. He is actually Webster, from the TV show]

Webster: Guys! Terrible news! I just heard that DCist is going to post about the Bloc Party show!

Hipster: Heavens to hoopskirts! God, no! Why! Oh, Webster! You mirthless midget! Why must you always bring such woeful tidings up unto my grill? Now I am inexorably beweep!

Scenester: Get a hold of yourself, man! Webster, are you certain?

Webster: Golly, yes. I overheard them at Cafe Saint Ex talking about it. KG was rocking the Feist, too. Somehow, I was able to closely overhear them without being detected!

Hipster: Somehow? Good Lord, man. You're no taller than most cats!

Scenester: Silencio! They're at Cafe Saint Ex, eh? All right. I have a plan. [Blackout]

ACT TWO: The DCist crew is gathered at Cafe Saint Ex, having a staff meeting. Hipster and Scenester enter.

Scenester: I thought I'd find you here.

DCist Catherine: Oh, crap. It's you guys again. If you wait till tomorrow, I'll post something for you two to get your panties all abunched.

Hipster: There's not going to be a tomorrow!

Scenester: Can the melodrama, man. There's going to be a tomorrow, okay. God knows, you guys would probably run home and tell all of DC that tomorrow wasn't going to come, because of your crazy need to always be informing people of impending shit! What's that all about.

DCist Kyle: Um. It should be bovs, actually.

Scenester: Well, I'll tell you what you are not going to post about tomorrow. When it comes. As it certainly will! You aren't going to tell a soul about the Bloc Party show.

DCist Hemal: Uh. We so totally are.

Scenester: No you will not.

DCist Hemal: Yes. We totally are.

Scenester: You most certainly so totally are not! Not this time! And you want to know why?


Scenester: I said do you want to know--

DCist Becca: Christ, fine. Yes, we want to know why.

Scenester: He is the reason why! (He points to a shadowy figure, sweeping across the room toward the DCist table)

Deus Ex Machina: Um, hi. Are you the DCists? Yeah. Look, I'm the Deus Ex Machina. I don't know if you are familiar with my work, but basically it boils down to this. In a dramatic setting such as this, the Deus Ex Machina basically has ultimate willpower to dictate events. For the purposes of this dramatic piece, I have decided that you will not be posting anything about the Bloc Party show. And so, regardless of your own claims to self-will, this shall come to pass, because as far as the plot is concerned, I basically trump you.

DCist Hemal: You can't be serious.

DCist Rob: No. He's right. The Deus Ex Machina, or "god-machine" is a longstanding tradition in classic drama, often deployed by playwrights to resolve matters that are seemingly unresolvable. Since there can be no plausible reason in actuality why we wouldn't post, but the reality of this dramatic piece requires us to not post so that the third act can be realized, the Deus Ex Machina has been called upon to assert the playwright's will in this regard.

DCist Becca: Haven't you ever seen Law and Order? Whenever the two cops have exhausted their leads, S. Epatha Merkerson's phone rings, and who's on the other line with the critical info to get the story moving again?

DCist Rob: Deus Ex Machina.

Deus Ex Machina: Right, and for the record, it's not my fault that this playwright's vision hinges on this hack postmodern device.

DCist Kanishka: Wait. Hold on. This can't be right. Rob, you don't know what you are talking about.

[DCist Jason slaps DCist Kanishka hard across the face.]

DCist Kanishka: Dude! Why did you do that?

DCist Jason: Dude! Because Rob Goodspeed has never been wrong about anything! You know that! Don't tell me you don't!

DCist Kanishka: Oh, man. You're totally right. You're totally right! Rob, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

DCist Jason: It's okay, man. Hey. I love you dude! I didn't hit you out of meanness. I'm sorry.

DCist Kanishka: Let's never fight again, man.

[And they never did.]

DCist Kyle: Is it still okay for me to think this is bogus?

DCist Catherine: I swear. I am going to cockpunch this guy.

Deus Ex Machina: Now, now. Your cockpunch won't work on me.

DCist Jason: I'll let you cockpunch someone in the sequel. And I promise to give Scott, William, Martin, Zoe, Cyndi, Amadie and the rest of those cats some lines, too.

Scenester: Ha. In the meantime, no Bloc Party post!

DCist Catherine: Fine. Since this isn't really happening, I guess it's okay.

Deus Ex Machina. Great. I'l be on my way. And, by the way, it was me that stole the keg.

DCist Kyle: I KNEW IT!!

[Scenester, Hipster and the Deus Ex Machina exit]

[Two hours pass.]

DCist Mike: (entering) Wow. Sorry I'm late guys. Did I miss anything?

ACT THREE: The 9:30 Club the night of the Bloc Party Show. The venue is mostly empty, save for the twenty or so people who regularly post on the 9:30 forum.

Hipster: Dude! This is awesome.

Scenester: It's the dream realized. All those lazy people are nowhere to be found. Just the true fans.

Hipster: They whose blood flows not with the Hemoglobin of the Truly Deserving are rightly, and justly missing out on the Bloc Party show.

Scenester: It's all about purity control, my friend. It's a constant struggle to move the goalposts that determine who's in and who's not. It can be fun to be exclusionist, but I don't think any one of enjoys all the effort it takes.

Hipster: All I know is this: right now, the feeling of smugness that has come over me is so infinitely sublime that I believe I could lactate.

[From behind the stage, Bloc Party enters.]

Gordon Moakes, Bloc Party bassist: Bloody hell! Tong is right! There's no one here.

Matt Tong, Bloc Party drummer: I told you! The place is fucking empty. I thought DC was clamoring for us to return.

Kele Okereke, Bloc Party singer: I blame myself, guys. I must not have given my usual 125 percent at the Black Cat.

Russell Lissack, Bloc Party guitarist: Kele, you can't go around blaming yourself! Let's talk to those guys. Maybe they know if something is up.

[The band approaches Hipster and Scenester]

Matt: Excuse me, I was wondering if maybe you guys knew why there's only twenty people here tonight!

Hipster: It's awesome, isn't it! You guys are going to rock tonight!

Scenester: I bet it's a big relief for you guys, knowing that not a whole lot of people came tonight. I gotta think it's a luxury you guys don't enjoy that often.

Gordon: Actually, we sort of thought we'd draw a lot more. What happened? This place is desolate.

Scenester: Well, guys. This blog, DCist, were all set to actually post information about the ticket sales.

Hipster: Yeah, letting just about any old person in on the news.

Scenester: Well, we knew that tonight's show should be special for you guys, so we got the Deus Ex Machina to put the clampdown on DCist from getting the word out.

Russell: The Deus Ex Machina? Who's that?

Kele: The Deus Ex Machina, or "god-machine" is a longstanding tradition in classic drama, often deployed by playwrights to resolve matters that are seemingly--

Matt: Let's not go through all that again! I still don't get it! What about all the other avenues of finding out about the show?

Deus Ex Machina: (sweeping into the room) Perhaps I can explain! After shutting DCist down, I was still feeling rather spry.

Scenester: So he went around to the other blogs and newspapers and put them ALL on lockdown!

Deus Ex Machina: Yeah...I get a little drunk with the power now and again...

Hipster: It's all about getting you guys the opportunity to play the perfect show for the perfect fans!

Matt: Perfect fans, eh? Well, you lot didn't, by chance, each pay $250 for your tickets, did you?

Scenester: What? Hell no! It's all about cheap and easy, bro!

Russell: So we're playing for a few hundred bucks tonight? That doesn't even come close to covering our expenses! We don't live on a fucking commune, you know?

Kele: Right. That was Kasabian.

Matt: And even those guys are shilling for Pontiac now.

Gordon: Your actions have consequences that impact our intimate lives!

Scenester: Woah, woah, woah! What's with all this talk of consequences? What consequences? I know of no consequences! I just know that this is my perfect show! I know that if I was the center of universe, this is the way it would be!

Hipster: And we are the center of the universe.

Matt: So...this means we don't get paid tonight.

Russell: This can't be happening...

Gordon: Kele, I'm hungry.

Kele: Hey, Gordon. Hang in there. In few days we'll be playing the Trocadero.

Matt: Maybe they won't be such asshats in Philly.

Deus Ex Machina: Ha! Good luck with that!


Stay tuned for the exciting sequel, The Magnificent Seven Cockpunches! DCist Catherine, decked out Kill Bill stizz, settles the beef between Sam Endicott and Brandon Flowers the only way she can--by crushing their nuts until they cry, cry, CRY! like little bitches!

Get Your Bluestate On!

Another big Bluestate night is upon us, replete with great music and big giveaways. Are these guys not generous? They just keep getting better and better.

Click the banner to head out to the Bluestaters' Official Site of Enjoyment to find out how they've been looking out for you. And head out to The Black Cat this Saturday and enjoy the show.

Sickeningly Good.

Castor Oil gets a chorale of "Amen!" from me w/r/t one of his latest rants. Peep it here. And let me just quote the salient part:

Me: Hello?

Fred: Hello Sir, this is Fred from the Friends of John Kerry.

Me: Oh you have to be fucking kidding me.

Fred: Sir, as a loyal friend of Senator Kerry...

Me: Hey Fred, listen closely for a second OK.

Fred: Sir?....I'm calling...

Me: Fred, stop and listen to me, OK?

Fred: Sure sir, go right ahead.

Me: Fred you just called me and woke up my sleeping baby daughter presumably to ask for more of my money to give to a guy that's married to a billionaire and that I watched mount the most inexcusably inept and pathetic Presidential campaign imaginable. You people with millions and millions of dollars, some of them mine, couldn't figure out how to beat a half-witted charlatan that had launched this country into a war over nothing--NOTHING FRED--..N-O-T-H-I-N-G?..NOTHING!!!!!!! The economy was in the shitter, the deficits were off the charts, we had a flu epidemic, the President made a complete and total asshole out of himself on nation-wide television, our soldiers were being blown up all over Iraq and our citizens were getting their heads chopped off on the evening news because of this shitwit and you still managed to let him beat you. Five months later his approval rating is in the 40s,
Fred, in the 40s and he still beat "my friend" John, and by complicity, you Fred. He beat you and now you ask me for more cash. For what? To do what? What
the fuck are you going to do with it? YOU LOST DON'T YOU REALIZE THAT FRED!!!!!! It's amazing, really, the heights of stupidity that y'all hit. So do me a favor Fred, tell my friend John to take me off his calling list and that the next time he needs money he can go fuck himself and his hagged out wife with a bottle of Heinz 57 sauce.

Fred: Sir that kind of attititude is really unnecessary.

Me: No Fred, that kind of attitude was and still is totally necessary. You just don't realize it and that's why you are where you are and unfortunately me and the rest of the country are right there with you. Now fuck right off.

Sweet. This reminds me of a conversation I had circa August 2004, with a kid on L Street or K Street--I forget--hitting up passersby for Kerry.

Dude: Excuse me sir, would you like to contribute to the Kerry campaign?

DCeiver: Indeed I would, dude. Tell me, how soon can you get me into the next meeting of his inner sanctum?

Dude: (laughs) Oh, ha ha. Well, I don't know about that.

DCeiver: Well, that's too bad, dude--can I call you "dude?" Good. Because here's the thing. I can offer you something more valuable than money. I can offer you my time and intelligence. Right now, that's what you need the most, dude. See, I would totally LIKE to give you money. Believe me, I would. That would be so easy, and I
like easy. But here's the rub, dude. You guys don't give me the faith that my money will be put to good use. I give the Kerry Campaign money, I might as well be setting it on fire.

Dude: Well, I'm sorry you feel that way.

DCeiver: Ha! Not half as sorry as I am for feeling that way!

Misadventures by Taxi

Took a cab over to 1201 New York Avenue, NW today. Owing to my neurosis, where I cannot be anywhere without having something to read, The DCeiver ended up drifting off in an Entertainment Weekly. By the time I looked up, it was too late. We were on New York Avenue--that was the good news--but we were crossing 9th and headed east.

THE DCEIVER: Ummm. Hey. Aren't we a little east of where we're going?

HACK: 1201 New York Avenue northwest?

THE DCEIVER: That's right. [7th street now looms in the distance]

HACK: This isn't the right way?

THE DCEIVER: Well, I'm drawing on some valuable life experience that tells me that 12th street is west of here.

HACK: Okay. Sorry. [He bangs a U and proceeds slowly back along NY Avenue, then inexplicably turns right]

THE DCEIVER: Now we're headed north in the wrong direction.

HACK: (uncertain) Uhhh...sir, do you know how to get--

THE DCEIVER: (interrupting) Okay. Stop the car. Stop it now.

Luckily, it was a lovely day for a walk, and 1201 New York Avenue was right where I had left it.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Help Needed Out at the Washington Shakespeare Company

My friend the DCepticon tipped me and Good Sir TheaterBoy off to some bad news that's come down on the good people at Washington Shakes. We've always been upfront about our enthusiasm for developing a property called Chris Henley is Live, Nude and Onstage, precisely because Henley, Lee Mikeska Gardner and his crew out at WSC are real good folk. The DCeiver had some recent balls-out fun participating in their Canon Cabaret--and the fact that a big audience gathered in their upstairs rehearsal space to watch a Shakespeare history play by a bunch of punch-drunk actors with only one rehearsal and the always manic, always brilliant urgings of Grady Weatherford, grooving all the while on the casts left-field improvisations and applauding when the dramatic death scene got even more dramatic than planned, well it tells you a lot about what WSC does right--their audiences are juiced for enjoyment.

TBoy's got the deets on this unfortunate saga of how the venerable Clark Street Playhouse came afoul of Arlington's fire marshall, why the WSC has kind of got themselves between the rock that is the ambition of developers and the hard place that is Arlington's unwillingness to do much as far as helping out with capital infrastructure improvements. We're not placing blame here (though we wonder why the anonymous tipster that went to the Fire Marshall just couldn't simply bring their concerns to theatre staff)--it's a rock and hard place forged by an honestly unfortunate sounding confluence of events rather than not-give-a-shit-itis.

But DCeiver would like to help out. There are two immediate problems.

1. Shoring up WSC so it'll pass inspections
If you got some spare time, even on the weekend, call over to WSC at 703-418-4808. Ask if they need some arms and legs to help patch or pitch or sweep or nail down. If you don't have the time, rifle through the ol' sofa cushions and mail over a donation.

2. Finding a new home for The Colorado Catechism.
A more pressing, immediate need may be ensuring that the Journeymen Theatre Company, set to open The Colorado Catechism on April 20th, finds a new home if they need it--they may even need a space to keep rehearsals of some kind going. I'm unable to find any way of contacting the Journeymen--maybe they can hit me back with some contact info. Off-the-cuff suggestion: call over to St. Marks Episcopal on Capitol Hill, 3rd and A SE. They do some amibitious community theatre there, and it's a great congregation and church--maybe they can help. If anyone out there in DCeiverland has some suggestions, drop 'em off here and we'll hit the phones and move some ideas around.

In the meantime, The DCeiver's pulling for all the artists involved. Hopefully, by week's end, this will have all gotten back to normalcakes.

Courtney Totushek--not taking the whole loathing thing very well.

DCSOB, you gotta tell me--did you ever ask Courtney Totushek out? Umm, because I most certainly did not. I would have to be six or more sheets to the wind and suffering from some sort of massive aneurysm to do that. In fact, if anyone out there has seen me ask her out, please let me know immediately, because I will definitely have future retainer Shayna begin proceedings to have my power of attorney placed with some third party and go into whatever rehab is necessary.

Actually, my suspicion is that we have dragged poor old Here's a Hint into this. Sigh: thinking the DCeiver and Here's a Hint is the same 2004.

At any rate--you know what? My wish for this lovely Spring is for Rotoscope fans to just keep on loving them. Keep grooving, people! We're sorry for having opinions! And to PJ, who posted on DCSOB: "Would someone please tell Courtney from Dr Dremos that she is perpetually off-key? She sang The Church's 'Under The Milky Way' one night and I almost spewed my Marion Berry-Ale," I can only say, PJ, apparently this is all my fault! I have special powers or something. I'm so terribly sorry, for you, and I apologize to The Church as well. And PJ, if you ever chance to hear John Athayde attempt a Jeff Buckley song, I have been told several times over that you should flee the room at once. Again, this is probably all my fault, too.

Yes, truly, now everything makes perfect sense.

Rock on, 'Shek. Stay classy.

Expanding the reach of 9:30 show news.

Truly--the spirit of allowing information to frolic free has alit on the dark corners of the 9:30 club, and though there are those people who believe the amplification of information that is in no way being kept like a secret is a bad thing, we say: those people are weirdos.

But the dorkocracy is right about one thing: The DCeiver is limited in scope. While readership grows with regular increments around here, we can't possibly reach all the Bloc Party fans in DC.

DCist helps, but I cannot necessarily count on DCist always running this information--the site is smartly edited and at no one's beck and call.

Luckily--there's always Craigslist!

Tee to the motherfuckin' hee.

DCeptette: The Dark Days of the Federline Spawn Are Finally Upon Us Version

  1. When the GOGger Rhome tells me that he has a "personal cheat sheet" that he uses to remind himself of the existence of the Silver Diner, what can we say? We believe him. In fact, we're quite sure that hunger pangs themselves send him reaching for his cheat sheet entitled "My Tummy Hurts: Why Is That?" It lists: "1. I am hungry. 2. Someone recently punched me. 3. Swallowed a gallon of deer semen again..." (GOGgle.)
  2. As if DCSOB wasn't already having the Best Week Ever, he's started early on next year's list. (DCSOB)
  3. Mike Tyson says of his upcoming, DC-hosted bout: "It's going to be a train wreck." So it's official: Tyson to kick the crap out of the Woodley Park Metro Station. (Yahoo News)
  4. Speaking of WMATA--while the transit authority can't seem to promise much in the way of transit improvements, at least they are getting really good at Town Hall Meetings. (WJLA)
  5. Rosslyn, North Arlington's perennial answer to Crystal City, is looking to get a whole lot taller, proposing a new 39 story skyscraper that is sure to rankle DC's L'Enfants Terribles, who wish the Washington Monument to remain the focal point of the area, despite the fact that the Monument looked a lot more bad-ass covered in lighted scaffolding. Check it: Terrorists didn't dare attack the city until that scaffolding was taken down, did they? Coincidence? Hell no! As for Rosslyn, the insults hurled its way for it's lack of aesthetics are pretty sound ones. Will a new skyscraper help? We have doubts. "It ought to be something that is in some way exalting," said Arlington County Board Vice Chairman Chris Zimmerman. Yes. Because mankind has for decades searched for a way to pay fitting tribute to Rosslyn--that paradise found; that demi-Eden. Right now, Jake Dobkin is looking down the line at the future launch of Rosslynist in 2032 and thinking: "Okay. For the silhouette we'll use the massive new skyscraper, the Key Bridge Marriott, the Orleans House, some drunk Georgetown coeds stumbling home from the Continental, that church that doubles as a gas station." (Post)

Ten Names That We Don't Wish ON RFK Stadium

  1. Quiznos: The Stadium
  2. The "You'll Never Take This Neighborhood Alive, You Gentrifying Sons Of Fucks" Ballpark
  3. Kelly Ann Collins' House of the Undatable
  4. Shambling Fat-Asses On Ramps Stadium
  5. Don't Miss Life On A Stick On Fox Arena
  6. The Cleveland Park Men's Field House
  7. The Don't Expect Any Help Getting Home Tonight Dome
  8. Tom Sarris' Orleans Arena
  9. Wow! Check Out Those Crappy Public Schools, How'd That Happen Field
  10. Metroblog Park

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

The latest 9:30 shows those precious hipster dorks don't want you to know about.

In our continuing efforts to allow more music fans greater access to 9:30 Club shows, we'd like to point out the following shows go on sale this Thursday, April 14th, at 10:00 AM.

[show]:[date of show]

The Stereophonics: May 19, 2005
The Dresden Dolls: May 20, 2005, 6:30pm show
Gang of Four: May 20, 2005, 10:00pm show
Doves: May 23, 2005
GZA: May 25, 2005
Old 97s: June 11, 2005
Alkaline Trio: June 29, 2005

Oh, and's one going on sale TODAY (Wednesday, 4/13, at 10am).

Bloc Party: June 16, 2005

One blown up suitcase later, another sinister plot to tell joke, adulterate Coke with pee-pee foiled.

In the past few days, as many of you know, I've joined my colleague DCSOB in placing my arm up to the elbow inside the loathsome heart of our fair city. On top of that, my other arm has been up to the shoulder in the ass of preparing board materials with both legs sunk up to the knees in the quicksand that is the modern office move. Four limbs of sweet, godless immobilzation and face down in a saucer full of vodka.

While we were up to our everything, some dude from China dressed like The Matrix toddled up to the steps of the capital with his two suitcases and stood there quietly. It's springtime in DC, and everyone knows that the friendly strangers in the midst of the city are the ones loudly asking questions of GWU students, who are all, in turn, zooted to the moon on Adderall and acting surly because life was so much easier when they were just drunk and in New Jersey. The strangers are asking where shit it and how much it costs and trying to avoid getting murdered, the students are laughing at the tourists myriad attempts to use the Farecard machine, and that's the DANCE OF SPRING, bitches, so you know that if, into this picture, comes some quiet Chinese guy, acting all suspiciously Zen, chilling with his luggage right outside Fristie's office, then something very fucked up is about to happen.

Actually, as it turned out, the dude with the suitcases was Wenhao Zhao, from Australia, and no criminal charges are being filed. Police say that he was talking crazy, wanting to see the President. "He didn't seem to be in full control of his faculties...Most of what he was saying was nonsensical." Damn! Is that so unusual? It's not like that's ever stopped James Sensenbrenner!

Actually, if you want nonsensical, check out the conversation on CNN about this story (via Wonkette).

REPORTER: This is the area, by the way, Wolf, where the president had his inauguration on January 20th.

WOLF BLITZER: One of the most sensitive spots of real estate in the united states, Bob. Thank you very much.

My God! Just think! Zhao was standing on the very spot that was somewhat in the general vicinity of a spot President Bush stood vaguely near just a mere three months prior! Are you fucking staggered yet? I'm a bit surprised their conversation didn't continue thusly:

REPORTER: That's right, Wolf. Very sensitive. And you can imagine what might have happened if the suspect had been in possession of a Way Back Machine. In theory, Wolf, he could have used it to travel backwards in time to Inauguration Day, and then, well...he would have been very near the President.

WOLF BLITZER: Indeed. The potential for nearness in that scenario you describe, Bob, is very compelling.

REPORTER: It is, Wolf. It's staggering. I'm staggered. Aren't you fucking staggered, Wolf?

WOLF BLITZER: It's truly unthinkable.

REPORTER: Yes, Wolf. Though we have, in essence, just thought of it.

WOLF BLITZER: Yes, Bob. Only CNN is bringing the world this hypothetical coverage.

REPORTER: This just in: CNN--totally fucking awesome. Back to you, Wolf.

But what could Wenhao Zhao have been doing there at the Capitol? DCeiver offers the following theories:

1. Understandably, he was really pissed at John Cornyn.

2. Zhao, hearing of the President's affinity for "My Sharona", was desperate to tell Bush that he really shouldn't sleep on the rest of The Knack's back catalog, available for convenient download on iTunes.

3. Zhao's life's ambition, since he was a small child, was to be a part of the very first Crazy Guy At The Capitol Incident reported on by Sploid.

4. He wanted to spend a few hours somewhere where Google Maps couldn't find him.

5. Just really wanted to get that damn suitcase blown the hell up once and for all.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Office Move A Go-Go

Still dealing with the after effects of office move am I. But if you gotta have some fresh DCeption, browse on out to the following:

When DCSOB announced his intention to do for DC what the New York Press did for New York, I knew I wanted in. Being a gentleman of some esteem, DCSOB did me a solid. So go now to his site and check out DC's Most Loathsome. Try and guess which ones I submitted. Some are, as the blognoscenti says, bovs.

Also, check out my most recent piece on DCist: Profiles in Superfluousness.

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

DCeptette: Dumbass, your property value don't mean shit to anyone in Heaven version.

  1. Who are the most loathsome people in the DC Metropolitan area? Tell DCSOB your nominations now! (DCSOB)
  2. You think the cool originals at Wonderland have it tough, with all the pleated-pants invaders asking for Stella? At "Aquia Pines Camp Resort in Stafford, demand is so high that owner Everett Lovell said he's considering ripping out some of his tent sites and adding to the 20 spaces he reserves for long-term RV dwellers." Prompting many to say: "Yeah, I remember when this tent city was totally dope, you know? Then came all those middle-class fucks with their wheels and their glass windows and their touchiness on issues of personal hygiene. Fuckers. I wish they'd move back to their high-falutin' slums." Next up for the Camp Resort: Borf! (Washington Post)
  3. I'd never confuse Pitchfork and Big Yawn, even if BY's jacked everything they could from the 'Fork. First place: Pitchfork actually provides content, as opposed to opening up their Robert Christgau refrigerator magnets and dropping them on the ground. But, Big Yawn does do something massively better than Pitchfork--predict the future. See you at the Ottobar for the February 22, 2006 Travis Morrison show! (Big Yawn)
  4. The Going Out Gurus rightfully diss their colleague in Gogging, Janet! Hooray! They can have their feed tubes back! (Googies)
  5. Two months after launching the Examiner, publisher James McDonald is leaving to start his very own free daily newspaper. Which makes about as much sense as setting off to be a sous chef after successfully crapping your pants for the first time. (Editor and Publisher, via Wonkette-less)

9:30 Club Update

Tickets for the following shows go on sale this Thursday, April 7, at 10:00am EDT.

[show]:[date of show]

  • Kasabian: May 12, 2005
  • Peter Murphy: May 15, 2005
  • Built To Spill: May 16, 2005
  • Kraftwerk: May 30-31, 2005
  • The Get Up Kids: June 22, 2005

You should also anticipate that tickets for the June 4, 2005 Futureheads show will go on sale at any time. Click on link above to get yours.

Big Yawn continues to embarrass.

Hey, 930 Club Forums! All is forgiven. The 930 Forums have come through with some agile observations and pointed, DCeiveresque harpooning today. Kudos to them.

Follow their lead and go to Big Yawn and check their review of Brendan Benson's The Alternative To Love. If you are a Brendan Benson fan, prepare to be amazed, because the review may as well be titled: "The Alternative to the Actual Biography of Brendan Benson." If not, make a note of the biographical details that "Chrish" cites and then browse out to the All Music Guide, where professional music writers live, and search for Brendan Benson.

Fucking clownshoes, man. Embarrassing.

Seriously, Big Yawn defenders: do you really think I'm being unfair?

Monday, April 04, 2005

NCAA Final

Washington Post has the meme down: Team versus Talent. When it comes to UNC, anyway, it's what I've been saying all along. UNC has got fantastic players at every position who pretty much go out playing three or four different games of basketball all at the same time. Illinois has a stronger team ethic, and you've been seeing it the past couple of weeks, especially against Arizona.

UNC, as a program, they've been here before. And Roy Williams, as a coach, has been here before. And that's the problem. You don't know is Roy's going to conquer his demons tonight or reach a new level of frustration. Consider this: this matchup tonight is ALL Roy Williams doing. He has come to Carolina with the blessing of the Dean to lead Carolina back to the promised land. Mission accomplished. Additionally, however, Williams left a vaccuum at Kansas, which was filled by Bill Self, who in turn precipitated a vaccuum into which Bruce Weber has stepped to similarly take his charges to the title game. Sounds like the karmic winds are blowing, baby.

UNC is pretty aware of this team versus talent distinction. Williams has apparently harped on it, not that the recognition has evidenced itself on the court. An evening with UNC still includes a bevy of bad jumpers, fast and loose play from Felton, and we all know McCants thinks he's a lot better than he really is--too often, it seems, he sees the press that Starvin' Marvin gets and hears footsteps. McCants is the type that win the big game for you, if he's not looking to make his mark instead.

I read in the Post that Sean May's been doing some motivational jujitsu on the VCR, showing his Dad's undeafeated Indiana team slicing and dicing on their way to a national championship. "I just want everybody to see the celebration they went through, the enjoyment they had. They had five NBA players on that team that got drafted the very next year. They were willing to sacrifice a lot for the cause of winning the national championship."

I like that he's paying lip-service to sacrifice, but I think it's telling that the words "celebration", "enjoyment", and "NBA" get better billing.

The run of play in sports these days has been ominous in its consistency. Pistons, Patriots, Red Sox, Greeks winning the Euros...did you see that Baylor's women's team only allowed four LSU players to score? FOUR? It's the age of team ethic, baby. Someone call the NHL and give 'em the news. The sports superstar is walking the million dollar mile to a town called also-ran. I like McCants, but I want a kid like Deron Williams on my side on Judgement Day, someone who can bang, board, drop, finesse, sniper-shoot, and put the lockdown on any guy on the floor I point him to--as McCants may well learn.

That being said, it's notable that I called Illinois the efficient killing machine. You can't root for them. They've been number one all year. Lost one game. They aren't Hickory. They are the antagonist in every sports movie script that's ever been pitched. And I'm an ACC man--I don't give love to the Big One Zero. Glory of the conference and all that. I've been saying that all around.

You know what, though? The efficient killing machine...the past couple of weeks...they've sort of grown on me. I've allowed myself to become seduced--and perhaps a little grateful after bouncing Pitino. That efficient killing machine turns out to be one hell of a team. I've misjudged you, Illini. You're forgiven for Jeff George. I just can't love these Heels. So go win, Illinois. Go finish the job.

Also, Adrian Zmed was nowhere to be found.

Saturday's travels included an evening out with my friend Josef (who, by the way, deserves a massive shout-out for helping me move a metric ton of boxes to Rockville in the rain), who is getting married a few months from now. I was fortunate enough to be in his close circle, and Saturday night were his official bachelor party festivities, which, typical to many, included an outing to a place I had never been before, the Nexus Gold Club--where I am pleased to report is found where gentrification will not soon be coming. So, hipsters, take note.

Here are five things you should know about the Nexus Gold Club:

  1. It is an object lesson in the economy of scale, apparently. For one dollar, you may either experience female pudenda being waved in your face or, alternatively, receive a hefty dollop of creamy soap from the bathroom attendant. This means if you have an active imagination and can carefully know when to avert your gaze, for two dollars, you can have a very interesting experience.
  2. If you've ever wondered where the DC people who are able to sit motionless for hours looking for all the world like they've just come from very smugly killing another human being with their bare hands hang out, wonder no more.
  3. The truth is, bad dancing can ruin the display of even the most aesthetically pleasing female form. I experienced this first hand, when I found I could not enjoy one of the stripper's acts because it looked for all the world that she was experiencing a massive grand mal seizure. I kept yelling: "Turn off those strobe lights! Can't you see that she's in pain?"
  4. You'd think that after the Michigan State-UNC game was over, the managers of the club would be shrewd enough to not tune in to twenty-minutes of full-team coverage of the Pope's death. Well, you'd be wrong. While I'm sure St. Genesius didn't mind, when the waitress came round and asked if I'd like another beer, I told her, "You're going to have to be bring me something a lot stronger if I'm going to be seeing the Holy Father in my peripheral vision all night."
  5. At last, a bar where telling someone: "Hey, nice cooter!" is not met with a face full of pocket tear-gas!

Saturday, April 02, 2005

Insipidity, thy name is Big Yawn

You know, we've been wanting to warm up a little to our buddies at Big Yawn for a while now. Their page is a little better, layout and feature-wise, their grids are still great, and while they just LOVE practically everything, they are at least reviewing a lot of timely records. So, I thought to myself, okay...maybe I should try reading one of their reviews. Bracing myself, I browsed over and selected their review of Louis XIV, which they had given an 8.9--whatever the fuck that means--a tie for the highest grade given out thus far this year.

Oh, no. This review was written by Big Yawn's Mandy, and it is thoroughly in the vein of Bart Simpson's Treasure Island book report, genetically crossed with a breathless and easily surprised eighth grade girl. While this sort of writing would be impressive were it penned by the titular character of the movie Nell, it is otherwise a train wreck, and that train wreck, with footnotes, follows below. Notes in quotes are from Mandy's POV, natch.

Louis XIV are a a four piece band out of San Diego. Illegal Tender is the last release that will be put on an indie label because they have been signed to Atlantic Records and are sure to be doomed for enternity(1). What I am loving about these guys is that they are very true to who they are(2). A lot of men are afraid to say certain things in their songs because God forbid someone think they are thinking the thoughts they're thinking(3). Yet, we all know what they're thinking about!(4)

Louis XIV have two different eras of music(5). Jason Hill's vocals have this overwhelming sexiness that could put Mick Jagger to shame(6). Yet, the band is able to combine this kind of vocal syling(7) with today's sound of bands like the White Stripes(8). The opening track on this five song EP, entitled "Louis XIV," has a catchy hook that will get stuck in your head for days(9). You'll be finding yourself at home or at work singing "Me Me Me Me..." The guitar solos are quite clearly influenced by The Rolling Stones and David Bowie(10). "Finding Out True Love is Blind" reveals the dirty mind and yummy vocals of Hill(11). He does it so easy(12) that it's almost like it's the 70's again(13). I literally can't say it enough(14), the sex appeal that Hill's voice throws in our face(15) is refreshing and so much fun to listen to.

It's no wonder the band has spread to England faster than faster than you can say "Ziggy Stardust."(16) With dirty British sounding vocals, and dirty minds, Louis XIV have put their own spin(17) on something old and something new(18). It sounds to me like they're having a good time making music(19), and isn't that the point(20)? Two thumbs up(21) to something very smart and sassy. I can see this band really making it big, and they are too good to make it big, if you know what I mean(22).
  1. Illegal Tender was released by Atlantic. And,"enternity?" Uhh, editor?
  2. "Whatever that is. I have no idea."
  3. God forbid someone think they are thinking the thoughts they're thinking. Isn't that, like, a linguistic moebius strip?
  4. "Though I'm not allowed to tell you what that is!"
  5. That's right. They actually have two whole eras of music in their possession. They bought them off eBay.
  6. So shamed is Jagger at Jason Hill's sexiness that I worry worldwide sympathy for Jagger will be so great that a lot of charity money might get diverted from tsunami victims. Oh, curse you, Jason Hill, you magnificent bastard, for that overabundance of sexiness!
  7. Vocal syling? Doesn't this piece of shit website have an editor?! Editor!!
  8. So, you combine one type of vocal styling with the same type of vocal styling?
  9. "I once caught a meat hook in my head for days!"
  10. "cf. where I mentioned Mick Jagger, totally proving it!"
  11. "Brainsss....BRAAINSS..must eat delicious braaaaiiinnnsss."
  12. He does what so easy? Pronouns need antecedents, dipshit!
  13. "Yeah man! The 70's! All that learning to walk and sptting up split peas on my mother's blouses! That decade rooled dood!"
  14. "And I'm not speaking figuratively! I literally have tried! But I have a hard enough time saying something semi-coherent once!"
  15. "I like to have cock thrown in my face! Too bad when I go to parties, the boys make my supply my own roofies."
  16. "I've actually never listened to Ziggy Stardust because if I had, there's no way in hell I'd confuse it for this Louis XIV crap."
  17. Wait. Do they put a "dirty" spin on it? I can't follow your reasoning! Stop mincing words, Mandy! Damn it, be straight with me!
  18. Something borrowed? Something blue?
  19. "It sounds to me like my neighbors are having a good time making fondue, too. I am just so good at inferring from the music that the band actually doesn't find the work to be a back breaking drudgery!"
  20. "Wait! I have a point?"
  21. Those two thumbs are apparently up the editor's ass.
  22. Clearly "Mandy writing what she means" and "coming to know what Mandy means through her writing" are mutually exclusive terms.

Big Yawn would have done a lot better if they had just gotten the pair of tits on the album cover to review the record.

Actually, maybe that's exactly what they did.

Friday, April 01, 2005

Don't say we didn't warn you.

If you can't abstain, at least use protection!

DCeptette: The Vatican City is here for you to use version.

  1. There's only one thing that could make this line-up any better: a special appearance by the Serial Arsonist (Here's a Hint)
  2. Are you seriously laughing at Brandon Flowers lashing out at the Bravery for biting their style? Sephora must have been out of Brandon's favorite brand of rouge that day or something. Anyway, that sort of thing would never happen in DC, where it used to be that most bands would simply happily pass their style back and forth to one another: "Hey, dude, are you bogarting that TeenBeat, man, because I've got to get back to my comp-lit thesis if you're not gonna pass it on." "What? I'm not smoking TeenBeat! I'm strictly harDCore. Just drinking my straight-edge Purity Water and looking for stray patches of hair to shave." "Word." (stereogum)
  3. With Pope John Paul gravely ill, and sadly, probably living his final hours, the Catholic Church will quickly come together to decide by meeting in what's called a "Conclave." Have you ever been to one? Because I gotta tell you, you won't believe how much Rohypnol they go through at one of those things! (DCist)
  4. DC terrorized by self-appointed Wahhabi Santa Claus and embarrassing Blues Brothers aficianado Kifah Jayyousi. (DCist)
  5. Are you fucking kidding me? Blogga, please! I straight-up fucking double dog dare you to move to Nashville. (YI8DC)

Well, "culture of mixed messages", anyway.

"It's just a part of the culture here to be pro-life," he said. "Anybody who would be pro-abortion in politics here would be dead in the water..."

--John W. Yanta, Priests for 'Life' advisory board member and death-obsessed ordained bishop, on the news that the Priests for 'Life' would be moving to Amarillo.

March 2005--A Month of DCeption in Retrospect.

April 1 is just a day of April Fools for most people livin' in America, but for DC-area residents it's a full month of Fools--tourorists who come to town trekking from points far and wide to stare in dumb amazement at some trees doing the same things they do ever year in every town, stagger in slo-mo serpentines up the streets you typically breeze down, and treat every single resident of the city as if we were all Colonial American tourguides. No, I don't know when the White House tour is. I don't know when the Washington Monument was built. No, I won't provide you with a demonstration of butter churning. Kindly fuck off.

Soon, they'll be crawling down the sidestreets, whole families dressed in tacky matching outfits who think it's totally awesome to buy clothes that say "FBI" on them. They'll waddle up to the FareCard machines, and you can see their flyover brains erupt in a Ring of Fire stop-error as they collapse puddling like in a ridiculous display of melodrama and confusion. I have always, ALWAYS, found DC to be a friendly city, but when I hear the auslanders complain about how mean every one is here, I swell with pride! That means we're doing our job!

Thanks are due from me to you, the readers, for pacing March to high-water marks across the board as far as readership goes. And we also thank some of the fine blogs who link to us regularly--I may have to create a new distinction on the blogroll for the people who Bring Love Online Guys to us on a weekly basis. Big ups to you guys.

So with no further ado, the March hizzylizzys.

  • We ream the Going Out Gurus for Bringing Lame Online, Guys--but happily, they start taking our advice. Hey, you're welcome, guys! Glad we could help.
  • How to explain the Cardozo High mercury disaster?
  • Well, even if we can't explain it, we can provide a way to warn people about future mercury disasters, right? Wonkette's intern thought it was a good idea! [Editor's Note: We were so regretful to have forgotten the Kevin Bacon movie Quicksilver! Enjoy this post, because it will likely be different when we publish the DCeiver book.]
  • We make our brash Bracket predictions.
  • Everything about the bracket goes to hell over Spring Break.
  • And this is what we're reduced to.
  • Still we brought love to the community. And the reward was a kick-ass evening of rock.
  • Ian Mackaye doesn't like your neighborhood either.
  • Karl Rove didn't get the present he wanted from the easter bunny.
  • And we end the month by sticking it to the self-appointed hipster obstructionists from the 930 club forums, and resolving to continue to do so, having received much encouragement and acclaim.
Peace out DCers, and remember, no matter what the out of towners are looking to do, just smile, be polite, and tell them they can find it on J Street.