Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Fenty to reveal the least well kept secret in Washington, DC.

Dude. Adrian Fenty is planning to announce his mayoral candidacy in a matter of minutes. The suspense? So not even coming close to killing us. For most people, the day you were aware of Fenty's existence was the day he decided he was going to take the reins of this city. The fact that everytime he sneezes it comes out, "AaaaaaawannabemayorsomedayyyyYYYYYCHOOO!" And he's done that so often he's blown out his nasal cavity. Sounds like the Baltimore aquarium in there.

Me and Mr. DCSOB are both, somehow--INEXPLICABLY--on his media alert list. Hopefully, DCSOB is en route right now--the announcement is taking place at his "boyhood home" a two-room log cabin at 1905 Kenyon Street NW which probably sells for $825,000 in the current market. Somebody, please, wake the residents therein. Hopefully, Fenty will wear a beard and stovepipe hat. DCSOB, if you get there, could you please ask Tom Sherwood if he'd go to prom with me?

Friday, May 27, 2005

Excerpted from The DCeiver's First Book of Awesomely Bad Jokes About Lauriol Plaza

A priest and a rabbi walk in to Lauriol Plaza.
Hey, Shlomo! Why don't you and Father Bad Touch wait in the fucking line like the rest of us?

Why did the chicken cross the road?
More authentic cuisine at El Paraiso on 14th.

Knock Knock.
Who's there?
Lauriol Plaza.
Lauriol Plaza who?
Mark Halperin.

What's black and white and red all over?
Lauriol Plaza's roof deck, after I dropped exploding zebras on it.

How many Lauriol Plaza patrons does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Who needs a lightbulb? I can read by the light of everyone's BlackBerry!

Thursday, May 26, 2005

DCeptette: Fuck AC Milan and all their friends version.

Extremely tired and incredibly surly: will Grady Weatherford
be the next DCer to have the perfect day? Posted by Hello

  1. Guess what? DC actor and confirmed Liverpool fan Hugh T. Owen is totally having the Best Week Ever. The day of the UEFA Champions League Final was very good to him. Over the past 48 hours, Owen's managed to basically steal back the plot of Fever Pitch from Jimmy Fallon for dear old Blighty. Yes, this is what having your picture in the DCeiver can do for you! On another note: anyone out there TiVo the Liverpool game? If so, hook a blogga up!
  2. Moonie haiku a go-go: "Mold: dank, dangerous / We dress up the obvious / as if breaking news." (Coyote Scat)
  3. Kelly Ann Collins and crew meet cute with Dallas Maverick owner Mark Cuban at McFadden's. KAC totally caught him in the act, post-lobbying "sports stuff", but misses an opportunity to challenge Cuban and his posse to a high-stakes game of twenty-one. Next time, Kelly Ann, you'll totally take him. Remember, nothing Cuban is associated with can defend the high screen-and-roll. (Washington Socialites)
  4. Vets take Rummy to court over retirement benefits. Careful now. Rumsfeld rarely misses the opportunity to authorize a military strike on you. (Examiner)
  5. Shit be bananas at a Montgomery mall yesterday as retail rage makes pre-Memorial Day Sale debut. Witness says: "It's very weird to go out, buy a pair of shoes, and all hell breaks loose." Yeah, well that's all gonna change once the stores are stocked with those dope new Information Leafblower kicks! (DCist)

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Going Yard with the Washingtonienne.

The DCeiver lurked around for the live chat between Jonathan Yardley and the online lit lovers that love him as he chatted up the new Jessica Cutler book. Our comments in red.

Washington, D.C.: I read the blog online, is the book any different? Or just a rehash of the blog?

Jonathan Yardley: I haven't read the blog. I decided that life (or at least my life) is too short for blogs, so I don't read them.

This is Washington Post-ese for: "Be sure to check out MY shit-ass new blog! Debuting next week! Fuck indie rock!"
Washington, D.C.: How juicy/racey is the book? PG-13 or R? or X even?

Jonathan Yardley: Well, definitions of "juicy" seem to get more liberal by the hour. In my youth it would have been banned by the Pope, but now it's probably no worse than PG-13.

Ratzinger loves him some ass.
Arlington, Va.: Is there any reason to read this book after seeing any of the initial media buzz surrounding her tawdry disclosures? She, like most of the Capitol Hill crowd, seems to know little about D.C. outside of their hermetically sealed, junior high, model U.N. world.

Jonathan Yardley: Can't tell if you've had a chance to read my review in today's Post. In it I say that for about 1/4 of the way it's a pretty sharp commentary on certain aspects of Washington. It slows down considerably after that.

"Yeeesss. Apropos of nothing, I'd like to remind you that I am quite the book reviewer."
Succasunna, N.J.: How does Miss Cutler's novel stack up against other Washington, D.C. sex-scandal books? Any recommended books in this genre?

Jonathan Yardley: To be perfectly honest I can't remember the title of the last DC sex scandal book I read. It's a very minor literary genre. The Brits do it much better.

Be sure to check out The Enfragranced Minge of Lady Winterbottom by Sir James Wellington Threapleshirewaite and I Want Your Newcastle Upon Mine by Tina Brown.
Laurel, Md.: So in her autobiographical novel, does she finish college?
Why on earth is the Post treating this unimportant work by a silly, trashy, wannabee as worthy of a review and chat?
Did someone on your staff ghost-write it?

Jonathan Yardley: The Post is a NEWSpaper. Like it or not, In DC Jennifer Cutler is news. The book had to be reviewed, here if not many other places. I have no idea what makes you think someone on the Post's staff ghost-wrote it. I have no idea who actually wrote it. There is at least the outside possibility that Jennifer Cutler did.

Deciding for themselves what constitute news would, of course, require that newspapers adopt these things called standards. How then, would Elisabeth Bumiller feed herself?

New York, NY.: Why do you think the world is so interested in this one woman's story -- is it because she got paid for the sex? Or because people have nothing better to do?

Jonathan Yardley: See previous answer about the book's newsworthiness.

Uh, John? I looked at your previous answer. The question was: "Why do you think people are interested in Cutler?" You're answer is: "Because she's news." Milo Minderbinder much? Is the serpent that eats it's own tail so far up your ass that you can't offer even a theory? Someone needs to get their a prioris straight.
Washington, D.C.: i saw the book in B and N last night, and couldn't for the life of me figure out why anyone would buy it -- especially when the archive of Cutler's blog is still online. Do we really want to reward an obviously borderline young woman who can't keep her pants zipped or her lip buttoned?

Jonathan Yardley: You get no argument for me, but there's no accounting for taste -- one's own or other people's.

Jonathan, when you say "she's a good writer if she wrote it herself"--which you'll do throughout the chat--you actually are both offering an argument and accounting for your taste.
Alexandria, Va.: So, is it entertaining? Will I enjoy it on its own merit, without knowing the people involved?

Jonathan Yardley: Depends on what amuses you. I found it rather amusing for a while, then had to work to finish it.

Getting paid to read make brain hurt no good.
Washington, D.C.: How well written is the book? If it hadn't been for the scandal (such as it was) that generated interest from publishers, would it have been bought under its own merits?

Jonathan Yardley: Well enough, but, again, I don't know how it actually was written. I'm sure that at the least she had careful editorial help. But I've certainly read far worse prose by Washingtonians ostensibly more eminent than Cutler.

cf. This very moment of your life.
Norfolk, Va.: Does the former aide, Ms. Cutler, drop names or does she use adjectives to describe the various folks on the hill, in her book?

Jonathan Yardley: The names are fictitious. I don't remember the adjectives, but some of them are far from flattering.

I think "gassy" was one. "My pussy opened like a ginormous handbag," was another.
Arlington, Va.: In her book, is Ms. Cutler not the least bit worried that whatever she might want for her future, whether it be a job or a man, might forever be rendered impossible due to her spitting upon the biggest intruder into every day life with the longest reaches into the business world: the federal government? I do not believe she will have the last laugh here.

Jonathan Yardley: I suspect the Feds have biggeer fish to fry. Jessica Cutler is strictly a minnow.

Mmmm. That's right. Spit upon my big intruder. It's got a long reach. Oh, yeah. Let's fry up some fish.
Clifton, Va.: Jonathan, am I right to perceive that you're a bit annoyed at having to cover this book instead of something a bit more ... pick a word: presitgious? Weighty? Lasting?

Jonathan Yardley: Not at all. I volunteered to review the book. I review two books a week 48 weeks a year, and if I don't have some variety I'll go stale and my readers will be the first to know it. Besides, with the title Book Critic of The Washington Post goes the responsibility of taking on books of particular interest within the paper's ckirculation area. Thus, for example, about a year ago I volunteered to struggle through more than 1500 pages in two books by Hillary Clinton and Sidney Blumenthal. "The Washingtonienne" is much better.

You mean to say you "volunteered to struggle through" books by Clinton and Blumenthal and no one greeted you as a liberator?
Baltimore, Md.: On an unrelated note...I recently remembered how much I loved Death in Venice in high school and randomly picked up Buddenbrooks, which I have just begun. I can't believe Mann was 25 when he wrote it! Do you have any other recommendations in the same vein as him -- I have heard Proust. I also loved V. Woolf's To the Lighthouse if that gives any indication of the type I am looking for.
Also, re: Joseph Conrad, what do you think about The Secret Agent?

Jonathan Yardley: Except for "Death in Venice," I haven't been able to cut it with Mann. Too ponderous for me. BTW, a new translation of "Death in Venice" has just been published, though I haven't read it yet. Conrad? Everything he did was terrific.

Ana Marie can do a better job with "cut it with Mann" than I can.
Decatur, Ga.: Jonathan Yardley: aims to cash in before its author vanishes from the public eye. As, I promise, she soon will.
Whoa! Don't you think this clever young lady will leverage this into a career as a "B-lister" ala Donna Rice?

Jonathan Yardley: Is Donna Rice still around? Didn't she get religion? Somehow I don't see Jessica Cutler getting religion, though I'm sure a warm seat awaits her on one of those television Gong Shows. Perhaps she can swap political insights with John McLaughlin and Chris Matthews, and she might just be more interesting than either of them.

Totally. She can go on Chris Matthews' show and Zell Miller can challenge Matthews to a duel. Inside Cutler's pussy. Which is as big as a handbag. Like I said.
Richmond, Va.: Based on your review and today's comments, your measured enjoyment of this book is doing wonders for your (probably unfair) rep as a curmudgeon.

Jonathan Yardley: GRRRRRRRRR.

...eeeeaaaat? Dude. Thurl Ravenscroft is dead. Don't joke.
Alexandria, Va.: It is my understanding that Ms. Cutler is being sued by one of her "partners" from the blog (identified as RS). Is his character included in the book?

Jonathan Yardley: Yeah, I read about that somewhere, but I know no more about it than you do.

Oh. But I do. His name is Robert Steinbuch and he likes to be dressed up like a baby and have his ankles nibbled. Everyone says so. Then he likes to sue people. Because Robert Steinbuch is a large, large asshole.
Washington, D.C.: As a Groton graduate, have you or will you read Prep? Any thoughts on it?

Jonathan Yardley: I have "Prep" on my coffeetable and very much want to read it, but it may be a while. I'd have reviewed it, except that I had a pleasant e-mail exchange with Curtis Sittenfeld that diminished my objectivity. Right now I'm trying to teach myself Spanish and am only reading the books I really have to read.

"Uggghhh...objectivity...diminishing. Must...learn...Spanish. Help me, Groton...help meeeeee!"

Carl's Corner, Tex.: Is is just me, or do a lot of these questions betray hostility and anger towards Jessica Cutler? What's the motivation? Do these folks feel threatened by a young lady who exploits herself and D.C. for a fleeting moment of glory? Or is it something more personal? Insecurity? Jealousy?

Washington, D.C..: Why am I not surprised at sanctimony of all (most) of the readers of this chat. These "oh-gasp" sentiments and condescending, self-important reactions are exactly what the sexy Miss Cutler appears to be lampooning.
People in D.C. simply cannot take a joke. Sure, she's a joke. Have a laugh (or not) and get over yourselves.

Jonathan Yardley: In response to the two questions above: I don't find many of these queries especially sanctimonious. It's sure true, though, that DC can't take a joke. The city is as humor-challenged as Bill Frist.

Get it! Bill Frist! He thinks AIDS can spread through tears! AND, he's a medical DOCTOR!! That's hilarious! So not sad or frightening.
Washington, D.C.: In its niche -- trashy, tell-all fiction about young female narrator who willingly prostitutes herself for proxmity to reflected fame, money, power, whatever -- how does Jessica Cutler's Washington (Capitol Hill)-focused work stack up with the more typical Los Angeles (movie biz) or New York (modeling/fashion)-focused works by the "giants" in this field, like, say, Candace Bushnell?

Jonathan Yardley: Actually, aim higher. Read Edith Wharton and Theodore Dreiser. Basically the story is the same, but the treatment is a whole lot better.

You actually did it, didn't you? You likened The Washingtonienne with Jennie Gerhardt! Jonathan Yardley, you are one crafty fucking bastard.
Alexandria, Va.: The sunny season is upon us. (Hah!) Should I snatch this one up as a summer read? If not, what book should I share my beach blanket with? Personally, I can't get enough of the sordid sexcapades of the rich and powerful, having cut my molars on "Advise And Consent".

Jonathan Yardley: If you cut your molars on "Advise and Consent," your molars must be as venerable as mine are. Try the novels by Nina Killham and Julia Slavin that I mention above. They'd be fun on the beach, and they're also very good books.

"I accidentally cut my aging molars on some snatch."

Alexandria, Va.: As an avid reader of her old blog, I must say I found it witty and humorous, even if it was lewd and crude. I am hoping the book is the same way. From your review, it seems that she shows some flashes of brilliance (for lack of a better word) in the novel. I think the girl might truly have some talent as a writer (not to mention her other, um, talents).

Jonathan Yardley: If you don't take it too seriously, the book is fun.

But if you DO take it seriously, the Post will pay you to read it.

DCeptette: I am Jack's embarrassing facial hair sacrifice version.

Oye, Arlington! Ready to get Rocked? Posted by Hello

  1. So Donald Rumsfeld officially gave the authority to shoot that Cessna down. Bet he was itching for a confirmed kill--it's been a long time since he gassed that residents of Halabja through his proxy and friend Saddam Hussein. You know, the fourth season of 24 just ended, and if I had a choice between living in a world where the United States was experiencing insane terrorist acts on a yearly basis that were solved only at the last minute and by the skin of the teeth by the serious minded professionals of that universe and staying in the world where my safety depends on how much scotch is thrumming through the temples of Crazy Retardo Rumsfeld at any given moment--well, I'd probably still choose to live here. But only because that last time I saw Kim Bauer she had a really ridiculous haircut! (Post)
  2. Authorities describe treacherous stretch of Potomac River as a "killing chasm", warning of "powerful water currents" that can drag off the unwary "in a second and not release them for a week or a month." To Arlington residents, this sounds like a stop on the 38B. (Post)
  3. Sad, off topic news. Thurl Ravenscroft is dead at 91. That's so not grrrrrrrreeeeeat. (Post)
  4. The socialization and mating habits of Snow Patrol fans revealed. (Craigslist)
  5. Jeezum crow, Goggies! I thought that the indie rock hurt your teeny and fragile brains? After hyping Plastic People of the Universe, you can expect another three day period of washing the cooties off. Will this post end up in the Neko Case hole? (GogBlah)

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

The Next Big Thing

First of all, I want to plug Another Bluestate Evening at the Cafe Saint Ex--now fortified with 30% more FDOTUS cooties! Join them at 9pm tonight. It's the official DC record release party for both the new Stephen Malkmus and the new Belle and Sebastian! It's jaded AND twee! Bluestate reminds you to have fun and to not break any toilets.

Normally, I'd be a lot more prompt in pimping those bloggers. After all, they come, they see, they validate Kelly Clarkson, and then in a second, *poof*! They're gone. Keyser Soze steez. But The DCeiver's been spending many a late night working on:

Posted by Hello

Behold! is having five pay-what-you-can previews starting this Thursday and running through Memorial Day. No reservation necessary, box office opens at 7pm for 8pm shows. There's a good chance the playwright and director might make additional script revisions based upon preview feedback, so the usual caveat emptorcakes apply. But we is some seventeen different types of funny.

The run proper continues the following weekend. I could go on and on, feeding you the deets, but why not just click here? So much easier.

If you were a fan of Magnolia, an urban legends buff, a fan of sprawling comedy and exotic locales, fancy seating banks that move, enjoy stories about boxes, stories about bellhops, stories about trips to Mexico, stories about the chaste attraction between sideshow barkers and waitresses, stories about inept sea captains or women of mystery or sociopathic dry cleaner employees, or if you'd just like to see The DCeiver get beat up about a half-dozen times in the course of an evening, you won't want to miss Behold!

[starring Cecil Baldwin, Andrew Brownstein, Elizabeth Chomko, Tim Getman, Jason Linkins, Hugh T. Owen, Jenny Morris, Kerri Rambow, Shane Wallis and Grady "Look for me on Google" Weatherford.]

DCeptette: I am going to make it through this year if it kills me version.

Adams Morgan needs water. Posted by Hello

  1. Well, they didn't go nuclear, and America's reward is a straight up-or-down vote on three of the worst judicial nominees in the history of the courts. Gee, thanks guys. At the end of the day, what disappoints me most is this, no one of any import had the brains or the balls to say the obvious thing about the filibuster--it wasn't the Senate's to take away. See, the filibuster is an extension of my voice and your voice. There was so much talk about judicial filibusters in terms of Senate traditions. Someone should have spoken up and said, "Listen, bitches, the country is not governed by traditions. It's governed by its citizens. The filibuster belongs to us. Touch it and you are done." Sad. At the end of the day, the GOP are crazy and the Democrats are quislings, and the only thing I take away from this group of fourteen is that they all desperately want to be liked. Ugh. (Post)
  2. Joe Lieberman does the only thing he's good for anymore: making up new words. "Partisanized?" What a Joementous occasion. (Wonkette)
  3. Joseph Pozell is "honored as a symbol of the city." I guess that means James hates him now, too. (Post)
  4. We forgot to express our relief last week that the planned architectural revamp of the Corcoran Gallery, designed by Frank Gehry and titled: "I Take An Aluminum Dump All Over Your Museum" appears to be dead dead dead! Because the Corcoran is broke broke broke! And Gehry's design was fugly fugly fugly! While we certainly hate the thought that the Corcoran is in financial troubles, if that's what it takes to keep Gehry out of Washington, we'll run with it. (DCist)
  5. Blogosphere: you are hereby enjoined from telling information leafblower what happened on 24 last night! Be a good neighbor! [ILB]

Monday, May 23, 2005

The Case Against Why I Hate DC

It didn't escape my attention that James from Why I Hate DC was profiled in the Washington Post--though he had a fighting chance to do just that, considering the big blog news item of the day was the KAC Empire getting profiled in the Express and also that the profiler of record for YI8DC was John Kelly, whose column is infinitely skippable.

Many days around the DME facility, we chuckle along with Mr. Why I Hate. He writes long pieces that stay focused, are often incisive, and make with good research. He's got a long memory, too, and can pull items from the recesses of his memory banks with stunning clarity for details.

But we've soured on Why I Hate, recently, and one part of the Kelly piece calls to attention why that is:

"I thought I could be one of those people who sits around contentedly, ignoring how the people around me behave, trying to deny what I've observed."

My word. James, Chris Carter just called, and he'd like Fox Mulder's personality back!

Honest to God. It's one thing to point out the foibles of where you live. And if you hate where you live, I'd be the last to toss out the "if you hate it so much than move" line, because I know it's not that simple. But where I'm starting to lose the thread of Why I Hate DC is the growing idea that Washington, DC is a Grand Guignol of Torture that only this dude's got figured out.

In truth, you can't swing a stick in Washington without smacking somebody who doesn't resent the onerous way the Federal government asserts itself on the residents of the city. Many are the people in Congress who simply believe that DC residents are superfluous to the city's existence, and the way the Feds use the city as their petri dish of social experimentation is just putrid. Beyond that, DC's like a lot of cities: dysfunctional local government, weird city layout, crime, homelessness, a certain amount of dickheads and weirdos, et cetera.

But in asserting that "We have, somehow, created a city that encompasses everything bad about living in a city, with almost none of the good things," and that "NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T BEHAVE THE WAY PEOPLE BEHAVE IN WASHINGTON. PERIOD," Why I Hate DC moves past the just criticism of those agents in the DC area making trouble for the people who live here into a weird zone of non-thought where he's successfully become No Thing To No People. All of which is fortified by a recent uptick in Mulderian persecution complex.

Perhaps I could accept Why I Hate DC as a windmill-tilting, tortured, socio-cultural messiah figure. God knows I could use one. But as time as has gone on, my enjoyment of his site has lessened because of a creeping dishonesty that has begun to seep into the work. Begin with the fact that the above blockquote stemmed from an incident that occurred at a Washington Wizards game: a fight in the stands between two fans. Now, I can understand being annoyed even angry at witnessing the events described. But I can't imagine the amount of melodrama pills I'd have to take for it to plunge me into a Long Dark Teatime of the Soul. His walk home sounds like the treatment for the next Green Day video, and for what? A non-newsworthy skirmish, the likes of which are found at stadia and ballparks worldwide? There should be a blog, Why.I.Hate.That.I.Don't.Know.How.To.Google.The.Words.Ron.Artest.

To me, this makes Why I Hate an unreliable narrator, because his reaction and his subsequent behavior is just not something I've observed in nature outside of the shrillest of drama queens. What cements the unreliability however, is the outright mendaciousness of posts like this and especially this one--both of which are, simply put, outlandish in their deceit.

The latter post is especially galling--the work of someone who either has no fucking idea what he's talking about or is simply lying through his teeth. In this post--he begins with a thesis: New York City is constantly crawling with people and activity on the weekends, increasing one's opportunity for spontaneous surprise and individual experience, while DC is devoid of such activities. Fair enough. Let's compare DC to New York City.

But WI8DC, like a misguided laser, homes in on the one neighborhood where Sunday afternoon activity is least likely to occur--the K Street corridor, and holds it up as a test case for Washington's social activity. He swings by Washington Circle and declares the sight he sees to be inexoably lame, stating: "Hard to believe that nobody wants to spend their leisure time sitting in the middle of a circle that cars are constantly driving around." And yet, blocks north, at a place he's never heard of called Dupont Circle this is precisely what's happening!

He walks on up K street, just as bemused as his little brain can be, "On a Sunday, almost all of the shops, restaurants and businesses here are closed. Which begs the question: why are the streets still jammed with cars?"

The easy answer--and by "easy answer" I mean "easy fucking plain as day answer"--is this: James--you are walking through one of DC's major business districts. All the restaurants are geared toward capitalizing on work-week dollars. Lunch breaks, 6pm happy hours, dinners with clients. Banking, copying, overnight shipping. You walk a little off this strip in one direction, you'll encounter the social centers for GWU. In the other direction, that place called Dupont Circle. K-L-M-N-O-P Street, douchebag...the restaurants are open! Why so many cars? Because motherfuckers be working, nimrod, and the garages are closed because the garage employees have this thing called a "weekend", in which they get two days off!

I'd lay you odds that somewhere in New York City, there's a business district just like the one he describes (with the exception of the fact that quite probably you'll find more crappy luncheteria type restaurants open because New Yorkers think of themselves as being as least as important as God, same as here, but in much greater numbers worth exploiting if you've got a snappy snack shack on Wall Street). I don't know! And why would I? Unlike YI8DC, I don't plan Sunday afternoons in New York trying to get friends to show me the neighborhoods where all the Kinkos are!

He makes this point over and over again, and very assiduously keeps the exculpatory evidence off the record. In Georgetown, he allows "there were actually people walking around." He doesn't provide any photos, probably because he can't pull off the same type of "Fall of the Statue of Saddam Hussein" trompe l'oeil BS he can on K Street. When he finally arrives at Gallery Place (I was there this past Sunday...was crawling with things to do and people to see!), he manages only one dig at the expense of the Hooters in Chinatown. Yes, the juxtaposition of that restaurant in that neighborhood truly was hilarious the first 50,000 times I thought about it.

It's all selective reasoning, perhaps unintentionally done (he doesn't discover the existence of Adams Morgan until months later), perhaps not so-it's just impossible to disregard the instances of pure unadulterated disingenuousness.

It softens the blow, to some extent, to note the abundance of instances in which WI8DC simply lies to himself. I love his paean to Nashville--a place he says he "wishes he can stay." It sounds like a fun 24 hours spent there, but when a guy rails rightly at the retarded red-state political foolishness of Virginia, as James does, often, I have to ask: "Move to Nashville? Are you stupid?" In the equation of backwater dipshittedness, TN=VA(10), dude. Hard and fast rule. The recently constant refrain that life is better in NYC deserves to go under the microscope as well: James, you constantly whine about how you'd never be able to afford to buy a home in the DC area (itself a weird obsession for someone who'd made it all but clear that you're shipping out the first chance you can get), let me lay some reality on you--you ain't buying in NYC either, buddy. Divide that Fort Strong pad in half, and double the rent--welcome to your New York City future, baby! But, hell, by all means move, and please let me know how you like dealing with rental brokers--you are going to love them!

At any rate--I still make regular trips out the Why I Hate DC lane. From the recent natterings on the gun ban to the Capitol Hill fly-by to a neglected-by-the-press item on the dicks at VRE--all right out on the main page--it's a blog worth visiting, certainly. And the wit is solid. But it doesn't deserve an ounce of your trust. Don't give him any.

DCeptette: Water main in vain version.

The loneliness of the long-distance runner. Posted by Hello

  1. Hey, DC. How you livin'? Saturday morning, everyone was living with parched throats, shitters filled with unflushable waste and the prospect of no coffee, ever. For The DCeiver, plans to obtain a nutritious repast Saturday morning at The Diner came to naught as Adams Morgan was a dry well of closed up shops and Saturday morning zombies, looking for caffeination. Even the 7-11 in Columbia Heights was a mocking display of empty coffee pots. Pictured above is actor Hugh T. Owen, who'd already ran ten miles that morning. Absent coffee, he sunk into a deep slumber, thus depriving us all of his insouciant wit. I understand that there was more breakage even after the initial repairs were successful. Fox news on WTTG breathlessly intoned that "the worst may not be over"--but those melodramatic queens say that about everything. I remember once I was watching the X-Files and the Fox tease was "Sharks! Are you at risk?" Now, anyone who really can't surmise whether they are risk of shark attack at any given moment is pretty much a moron. If I'm not swimming in the ocean what's a shark gonna do to me? Swim up into my bathtub? Not Saturday they weren't. At any rate, hope everyone's showered by now. (DCist)
  2. Photographer Jenny Vee snaps a photo at what could be the elusive Borf. Espied in the act of tagging, Vee trailed her quarry for ten blocks and brings us some photographic evidence. Meanwhile, it was reported to DCeiver that early Sunday morning Borf threw a little girl in the tidal basin because he thought she would float like the flower petals he saw her tossing into the water. The girl did not drown, however, as the tidal basin had already been halfway drained by a thirsty and deranged Kay Bailey Hutchison, who arrived unkempt and brandishing a pistol to the tidal basin Saturday afternoon warning onlookers that she would shoot anyone who tried to stop her from slaking her unholy thirst. (DCist)
  3. GWU President Stephen Joel Trachtenberg tells his students "no university in America . . . has as nice a place for its graduation ceremony." Um. Ha. Wrong. More like no university near Washington Circle. (Post)
  4. McDonalds obviously attempting viral Craigslist advertisements. (Craigslist)
  5. Let's all celebrate this year's class of graduates from Patrick Henry College! Go out into this world, kids, and fight for your culture. Also, let us know how you like the welfare state, because what your professors probably didn't tell you was when we in the real world receive your resumes, it's a tough decision on what to do with them: simply throw them away, or have our cats take a shit on them first. (Loonypoon Daily)

Friday, May 20, 2005

DCeptette: Idioteque version.

  1. Congress wants a well-armed DC? Huh. Put that in the "Be Careful What You Wish For" file. After all, why beseech these assholes for statehood when it can just be taken? Member rhetoric is hilarious though--Kay Bailey Hutchison says "Many people live in the district during the week who are members of Congress and they would like to be able to protect themselves in their homes." But how is DC supposed to protect itself from Kay Bailey Hutchison? But the best is from Virginia Senator George Allen--officially the stupidest person EVER to obtain a degree from The University: "A law-abiding citizen is not going to use a gun to settle a domestic disturbance." Wha-wha-huh? Sounds like Allen's ass might be a nice place to live if his head wasn't in the way. (WJLA)
  2. You have to love the Fox Newsification of all media. Check out the first sentence of this article from WTOP, about the Anacostia River: "Some say it's a river flowing with garbage, raw sewage and tires." Some say? You know, I know Newsweek is walking the plank over unnamed sources this week, but you want to know what journalistic gimmick has done way more harm than unnamed sources? "Some say." Know what? Fuck some. Nuts to some. This is what you do, MSM, to put cuckoo-ass blog nation in it's place: Hire a fucking reporter, send him down to the Anacostia River, and ask him: "Do YOU see a motherfucking tire? Well do you? Answer the question!" And when he answers the question, give him a shiny nickel and a pat on the back. Some say that "Some say" is the new stopping just shy of simply making shit up. (WTOP)
  3. Know what my favorite thing about diplomatic immunity is? When the news describes someone who has diplomatic immunity, it's never "Sergei McAttache has diplomatic immunity...", it's always "Sergei McAttache enjoys diplomatic immunity." Diplomats always be enjoyin' that immunity shit. Always reclined on chaise lounges made from baby seals, sucking the tiny bones of children, covered in angeldust, smirking and laughing: "My, my, American reporter...I sure do enjoy this diplomatic immunity!" Then he shoots a nun in the head with a crossbow. "You really need to try this diplomatic immunity sometime!" (WJLA)
  4. Patrick Gavin, editor at Examiner, emails me some amusing op-eds about interns. Based upon what I've written about Examiner, he's a good sport, so credit him kindly. I espesh like the cicada comparison, but it goes even further--just last night I had to go outside and shoo away some interns who had burrowed out of the ground and disturbing the whole neighborhood with the noises their thighs made when rubbed together rapidly. I didn't hurt them--a just gave them directions to Mr. Days. (Examiner)
  5. Forgetting to credit DCist much? (DC Metroblogs)

Make Up The Breakdown: Special Bloggers Unit.

  • Information Leafblower has designed some sweet kicks over at Nike.com in their blogger shoe design contest. Go vote for him. Yeah, I don't care how much you like ProductshopNYC's! Go give KG your love! (Nike)
  • Ultragrrrl has always been good to the DCeiver. So we're being good back. Watch this space (and her blog) for news about her new label imprint, Stolen Transmission.
  • At some point, we'll have Karl Miller back in the city with us. What will become of his new blogging endeavor, centered around his adventures in Alaska as he brings the art to the tundra-locked, when that happens is anybody's guess. So you'd better enjoy it now. If I were you, I'd start here--so fucking hilarious.
  • What do we like the most about the Cleveland Park Junior League's latest incarnation, Pygmalion In a Blanket? The way it shifts from perky fun to completely deranged in a manner of seconds. So Beeblebroxcakes! Burning a copy of The Sunset Tree for you. Maybe leave at Tryst in clandestine manila envelope?

Thursday, May 19, 2005

DCeptette: I sure hope the proper citing of sources wasn't part of the audition version

  1. DC Actor Karl Miller is plying his trade in Alaska at the awesomely named Perseverance Theatre, performing columbinus. He's also blogging in the kick ass manner in which he also acts. We're so down with his take on Eddie Albee--can I get a chant of "OVER-RATED!" from the crowd, Cameron Indoor steez, please? To my mind, his best play is now a de facto museum piece stunted by the soggy mores of the era in which it was written and most of the rest of his offerings are an ill wind that tickles only the nostrils of pretentious literati wannabes. Granted, I'm biased. Albee and I have tangled before--twas actually foretold in a dream I had (so not making that up)--and he emerged the victor. Bittercakes, I? Sure. But in the morning, I'll be sober while he'll still be overrated. And a complete horse's ass, 2 booty. More to the point, though, Karl marks:
    "It's time to sandblast the quotation marks from every New Yorker's speech balloon. It's time to burn Artaud at the stake and see if he signals through the flames. And the next time some jerkoff with a mail-order MFA wants to do Hedda Gabler on Mars, we will lock him in Denny's restaurant with nothing but a pen, paper, and all the buffalo chicken strips he wants. He will not be allowed out until he was written something that in no way resembles Hedda Gabler. We must punish every stage-side shrug with rotten tomatoes. We will stalk the deconstructionists until they can't sleep at night, sneak into their garages and reassemble the statues they shattered. We will make every scene shifting Wannabe earn their pass at time travel by stapling together the latest non-linear mindfuck into its original form and tattoo the words "OBEY NATURE TO COMMAND IT" backwards on their foreheads so the next time they get lost in their own iris trying to find the meaning of life, they'll consider living as a possible method of discovery."
    Word. One question, though, Karl: I have to hear about your blog from Theaterboy? Sheesh. You never call, you never write. I'm beginning to think you won't be asking me to the Homecoming dance! (Juneau What I'm Sayin'?)
  2. Here's a fleeting glimpse into DC Bachelors future. (Craigslist)
  3. More MP Galloway goodness. Yeah, we're still swoony. Mr. Galloway had us at "cock a hoop", but we still appreciate his levelling of Chris "Alone at the Ahmed Chalabi Fan Club Meetup" Hitchens: "You're a drink-soaked former Trotskyist popinjay. Your hands are shaking. You badly need another drink." I am so totally into this guy! (Guardian, via Wonkette)
  4. Representative Jim Moran says that the airplane scare of last week was "helpful" in clarifying emergency procedures, will introduce the "Hey Ladies, Take Cover In My Pants" Act of 2005 next week. (The Hill)
  5. Quoth Malkin: "Hey, remember when The Nation magazine ran this tasteless anti-Bush take-off of Goya's Saturn Devouring one of his Children last summer? The Left cheered the bloody cannibalism imagery as inspired and profound." Actually Michelle, if you had actually read The Nation, as I did, you would have noted that it's lefty leadership overwhelmingly decried the Goya parody as tasteless and inappropriate. That's just the difference between you and I, I guess. I know, whereas you totally make shit up. But in fairness, I loved the parody myself. It's Okay When You're The DCeiver. (Somewhere between Loonypoon and a cry for mommy.)

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Rule Britannia!

Oh frabjous day. Calloo callay!

I have just finished reading the transcript of MP George Galloway's utter and totally thorough destruction of Norm Coleman and Commander Cuckoo Bananas, delivered in the Senate. It is a thing of beauty. It is the most beautiful thing I have read this year.

Most people that know me know I have a particular mindset when it comes to elected officials. To my mind, when a man or woman steps across the line from private citizen to public servant, I prefer to emphasize the "servant" part. At least when I'm being charitable. In truth, most days I consider them to be nothing more than useful curs, pack animals, bootlicks. And that goes from Alderman Whosit to the Commander-in-Chief--a term that, to my ears, never fails to sound like "second-in-command"--again, on my charitable days.

Their job, simply put, is to query me on height and trajectory when I order them to jump. Failure to do so, at any moment, means dismissal. Occasionally, a majority of citizens leave their stupidity behind to smartly stand in agreement with me.

This is important to remember. Has Tom Delay attempted to dress me down by declaiming "I am the Federal Government", as he did so famously some time ago to a private citizen seeking to uphold the rules of polite society (Delay was smoking in a Federal building), he would have earned from me a savage slap across the mouth and a stern reminder to never speak out of turn again. I am the federal government, Mr. Delay. You are my mule.

It's been a long time, however, since anyone has walked into the seat of government and put these perfumed popinjays in their place--most Americans pay them halting abeisance and stammering unearned respect, which is why they more or less behave like roided up Marie Antoinettes. But George Galloway, leaving the trappings of the English Parliament behind, demonstrated that a citizen of the free world should never cringe before public servants like an emasculated pauper. He put the American idiots to the sword. You should relish every lovely word. Norm Coleman should go live in a tree.

It's Union Jack versus Jack Shit. Saint Crispins Day came early.

[Thanks to 1115.org for the heads up. By the by, they are on another one of their typical rolls, lately.]

DCeiver Hearts Corin Tucker

Janet, Carrie, and Corin. Show them your riffs.Posted by Hello

Which is why DCeiver will not be missing an opportunity to obtain a pair of tickets to the coming Sleater-Kinney show at the 9:30 Club, despite the fact that I'll be unlikely to attend because that will be the night Behold! ends at Rorschach, and I will likely be doing closing night things. So I will send the Wife of DCeiver to the show with a friend bearing messages from me.

You shouldn't miss out either. Sleater-Kinney is a Pantheon rock band. Don't even try to debate it. Tickets for their June 25 show go onsale tomorrow morning at 10am. You know where to go.

Be alert: There are other shows about to hit tickets dot com. Eisley, the Eels, and the Reverend Al Green all have late June shows that will be going on sale tomorrow as well. If you're the type of person that likes to spend an evening with Billy Corgan glowering at you, either speaking or singing some of the world's most ludricously awful poetry at you, tickets to that experience go on sale the 21st.

DCeptette: Ever get the feeling that everyone's auditioning for something version

  1. Let's just start things off today by celebrating the end of law school for my future retainer, the ineffable Shayna. She ain't passed the bar, but she knows a little bit. The bar looms this summer--in the meantime, we hope she's taking a two-week tour of the bottom of cocktail glasses. If you are a classy law firm and you don't work for Evil--Kirkland and Ellis, I'm looking at you--you'd be a fool not to hire her: she is the hottness and smarttness and the sweettness and she can turn any working lunch into an occasion of high social art. Every day is Bloomsday at Davey Byrne's. So congratulations and exaltations to you, Shayna. We'll be setting up the DCeiver Legal Defense Fund this summer.
  2. While at the local convenience store the other night, I noticed that Doritos have added new language to their packaging--"Now Better Tasting!" This struck me as very awkward. Had they not previously tasted their product? I was hopeful that maybe there was some sort of apology on the back of the bag or something, but there wasn't.
  3. File Under: "I bet I'm the first person to ever think of doing this! Snerf!" (DC Metroblogs)
  4. "DC Groove Trio Spiny Norman Emerges this Friday!!!!" Hopefully, someone will be on hand to spray it with DDT. (Craigslist)
  5. I have to take a minute to laugh at Robert Steinbuch--one of Jessica Cutler's paramours whose gone torty in the membrane. I surmise, Robert, that your case boils down to: "What? You mean my sex life has inherent consquences?!" Staffer, PLEASE! In the first place, if Cutler pleasured you with a few swift paddles to the gluties, it sounds to me like relief for your claim has been granted before the fact. But, more to the point, you have to apply the standard of reasonableness to this. TO WIT: If you shag the ass of a co-worker who is also a prostitute, and allow that co-worker-slash-prostitute to spank you as well, I don't think you have a reasonable expectation of privacy where those activities are concerned. I mean: obvs! Duhcakes! Besides, Robert--aren't you a dutiful Republican? You are all about the personal responsibility, right? Against those naughty frivolous torts, aren't we? Well, then suck it up, champ. You banged her! She spanked you. You're suing, but I'd lay odds you're still reliving that fun up in your mental Sinema Paradiso, aren't you? Shit, it's not her fault when you Google yourself you come up with "Robert Steinbuch likes to dress up like a baby and have his ankles nibbled!" Actually, that's technically my fault, now, isn't it? Shayna! Please make the weird Republican kink enthusiast leave me alone! (Wonkette)

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Reluctantly opening a new file labelled: "People we perhaps have misjudged."

Let the truth be told: The Cleveland Park Men's Club side-by-side comparison of Commander Cuckoo Bananas with the awesome Franklin Delano Roosevelt filled my patriotic heart with a thousand trumpet voluntaries. Read it, and try not to weep.

Monday, May 16, 2005

DCeptette: Lock up your daughter's pastries version

  1. Okay. Last night, when Homer called Bush "Commander Cuckoo Bananas", I just about lost my shit. Laughing. So hard. So much laughter that I had to pause my Tivo to get it all out my system. It wasn't until about an hour later that I realized: I don't own a Tivo, and had actually blacked out.
  2. We've totally hearted Sabrina Audrey Jess for a while. Respectcakes, yo. But now that we know that she's going to attend the finest acting program in the country, well...words fail us. Even with three first names, you rock. Go see Sabrina's play get read tonight at the Human Right Campaign building at 17th and Rhode Island, NW. And when you get to VCU, Sabrina, forge an alliance with Janet, and don't take any shit from David. (Post)
  3. Who goes to the Cheesecake Factory to eat a salad? Maybe he didn't notice you because he was too busy goggling at his mesculin greens glazed with braised lard served inside a sheep's innard and covered in slabs of Monterey Jack cheese. (Craigslist)
  4. DCBachelor stresses the need to develop a "sexual gimmick." We were able to surmise from this picture, elsewhere on his blog, what DCB's is--you can see the well-worn crevasse where he brutalized this banana bread with his cock. Kinda like a wet sponge indeed. And the "synergistic ingredient", he says, were his walnuts! Mmmm. Cracky, dampen goodness!
  5. Adam Eidinger rides his white horse to Banbury Cross in protest of Metro train-wrap advertisements. "Once this get going," he squeals,"the distinct look of our Metro will be lost forever..." What? Not our distinct look! The one that uses both gray and grey and is punctuated with dark brown? That one? Oh, no! He also says: "The nation's capital deserves better. We already have one of the best Metro systems in the country." Bet you he's wishing he didn't put those two sentences together, huh? (DC Metro Action)

A very special Crossfire.

Wonkette alluded last week to the end being nigh for the much reviled show Crossfire. It will be the end of an error. Much like Seinfeld, Crossfire was a show on which nobody learned anything and nobody hugged. Unlike Seinfeld, nobody laughed, either. Maybe because that cast were four dyspeptic George Costanzas with too little Elainey Janeane Garofalo guesting to break up the flow of runny, soured kvetch. What will become of Crossfire Studio once the die is cast? Perhaps twill become a marble encased meditation chamber for GWU students to sleep off the burning hole in their gullet left by another sad and lonely trip to McFaddens. And what will become of the army of fans of the already departed Tucker Carlson? Will P.J. O'Rourke do the honorable thing and claim them as his own?

Only time will tell. Nevertheless, the series finale looms in the future. What will become of our beloved Crossfirers? We have spoilers.

In the Crossfire series finale:

  • Bob Novak, after years of distant longing and heartbreaking setbacks, will, in a moment of redemption, finally get to kiss Dawn. Dawn, naturally, shrivels up and dies of massive internal organ failure right there on the spot.
  • In a fierce battle, James Carville is finally brought down and harpooned to death by Steve Irwin, who had vowed to not let such an abomination live. Irwin is then thankfully killed by the Mother of Grendel, or, as she's known in Washington, Mary Matalin.
  • It is finally revealed that Paul Begala is functionally retarded. He retires from Crossfire to a happy life of wearing water wings at all times and playing with his choo-choo trains.
  • Tucker Carlson returns to the show and is fumblingly boned by David Schwimmer.

Crossfire will be replaced on the schedule with some show called Wolf Blitzer is Burning Up Inside or Wolf Blitzer Can't Lose or some shit like that. Good luck with that, CNN. And thanks for cancelling Crossfire. It's a good thing that you've decided to stop hurting America overtly, and return to your time tested technique of hurting America via Munchausen's-by-proxy.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Tomorrow's 9:30 Tickets On-sales

Have you incorporated Neurobashing's Feed of Fury into your RSS aggregator yet? If so, you already know what I'm about to tell you. If not, you totally should. Don't listen to the carping from the 930 forum. But, for those of you who haven't made that deep, penetrating link to tickets.com, here's the news.

Tomorrow, tickets go on sale for the following:

  • Something called the Emergenza International Live Music Festival, scheduled for June 5.
  • Jonathan Richman! Totally action packed. June 20.
    Bass guitar. Jazz saxaphone. Meshell Ndegeocello & Joshua Redman on June 21.
  • TED LEO/PHARMACISTS!! Remember, attendance at this show is a degree requirement for those of you getting your Masters in Blognoscenti. June 23.
  • The Bravery. Don't be that guy wearing a Killers T-shirt. Head to Hot Topic today. July 15.

All tickets go on sale tomorrow at 10am.

This week's Capital Hill Evacuation is over!

Apparently, the Capitol Area was buzzed by a small plane, the USS Shit Be Bananas. Everyone freaked, ran outside. Then it was all clear, and back to memos. Anyone whose iPod was stolen during the hasty panic will be allowed to speak to a grief counselor.

When I heard the news, I was sure that Bolton's confirmation hearing had taken a turn for the worse. You wouldn't like him when he's angry. Promise me that after this dude's confirmation goes down in flames, there'll be shot of him slowly and sadly walking down Constitution Avenue away from the camera as the sad closing theme from The Incredible Hulk plays in the background? Promise me that much.

DCeptette: It's a sin when success complains version

  1. You'd love to hear my suggestion? Fine. Please: do not try to be funny, ever again. Because you are decidedly not. And the results only pains me and shames us both. (Googies)
  2. Jenna Bush sighted at Cafe Saint-Ex. Interesting, considering the place named for a man who wasn't role-playing when he wore a flightsuit. But who has time for irony when you're busy prepping her all-Yellowcard set for iPod jukebox night? (Wonkette)
  3. After the hammer: DCBachelor comments, "I guess I hit a couple nerves." Huh. If you hit any nerves, Roosh, it's because you're suffering from sciatica of the I'm-totally-fucking-kidding-myself. Ooooh! Count it! (DCTwat)
  4. BWI Airport is going to be renamed for Thurgood Marshall! Maryland Republicans plan a future of dryly insisting that nobody calls it that. (WRC)
  5. We all know how the Washington Examiner: A Love Story is going to go. Act One: The Examiner woos Ms. Expressette (EXAMINER: "Pluck me...pluck me like a flower.") Act Two: Trouble for Examiner sets in when she falls for the Financial Times (FT: "My love for you may be salmon colored, but it will never be a bad investment." Act Three: Examiner and Financial Times battle for Expressette's affection (EXAMINER: "I wish I could spare a hand to lift my boom box over my head outside your bedroom window! But I need both my hands to hold things...to hold Examiners!") Act Four: Expressette makes a shocking confession! (EXPRESSETTE: "Look you two, you're both real nice. But I'm young, wild and free. That means I pretty much just want to get boned by DCist." Yes...the story is old, but it goes on... (Craigslist)

Monday, May 09, 2005

You call that a hammer?

So, DCBachelor finally published his long awaited "hammer" article on DCist. We had long sussed out his pretend email of interest, and were sort of hoping he'd at least offer up some sort of discrediting opposition research--you know, that one of us were in some sort of Monty Python fan club or had once worked on the Paul Tsongas campaign or something. This is, after all, Washington, DC. To be honest, with all the free time this little gnatish refugee from a Tag Body Spray Commercial has on his hands, I was honestly intrigued at what he might put forward. After all, twas with pure telenovela breathlessness that he foretold of a hammer coming down--and last week, he ominously commented elsewhere that he would not be attending the DCist Happy Hour for reasons that would be made plain "very soon." I"m sure that in his mind, he used his best Count Chocula voice as well.

Forward to today, and the hammer has finally come down. To which we can only respond: "Umm...yes. Woo. As it were." Haltingly attempting what could be best described as a DCeiverian device of dramatic license, he posts a "confidential fax" that's about as biting as grape soda, which he follows with paragraph upon paragraph of steaming resentment and barely cloaked victimization. It's all awfully weird. We're first accused of being duped by Jake and Jen in some global -ist conspiracy to rake mad green from our unpaid efforts, then we're mocked as sell-outs. "I won't sell out for hits or money," quoth the Batch, feverishly selling out for hits or money, "because I have this thing called a job." Ooooh. Someone get this guy a trophy or something! He signs off with what he thinks is a cutting diss but more accurately indicates that DCist has only erred in not paying sufficient attention to him.

Have I already mentioned that this whole posting was deeply weird? Because it's deeply weird. But mainly, it's disappointing. Why, there's scanty substance to even put to a thorough mock! At any rate, DC Bachelor, I wonder: you speak so often of the great things you have going for you that it makes this new incarnation--in which you are imagined as a poor, soot-stained, coltish matchgirl, with cheeks fully awash in sticky tears, pressed to the glass of Chief Ike's surveying the enjoyable scene inside, burning with burgeoning resentment only because you're too dim to realize that the process of lightening up merely includes banishing that mucusy green ball of choler from the otherwise verdant bosom of your imagination--a little bit out of tune. A consistent, writerly voice, after all, is one of the keys of excellent blogging. So work on that if you want, or else fall back on your vaunted day job.

Hope that wasn't too wordy, dingus.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Get ready for the next big thing.

Very wiped after tonight's late Behold! rehearsal. Sorry, Chief Ike's and DCist crew, but we're busy brewing up a lot of onstage madness, making the impossible stageable. We're sure that the DCist Happy Hour was tiggy-tiggy. They always are.

Next up--a return to the Washington Shakes Canon Cabaret. They say: "To mark our 15th Season, WSC is presenting BARD - 37: OUR CANON CABARET. All 37 plays will be read in chronological order, starring WSC's current company of performers, along with the area's most recognized celebrities." Ha! We return to the Henry Four and Five series this Sunday night at 7:30pm with Henry V. Oh for a muse of fire...Saint Crispin's day...jokes about tennis balls--this shit has got it all--including Hugh T. Owen, Kathleen Akerley, Michael Dove, Marybeth Fritzky, Bill Gillet, Caroline ("WoD") Kenney, The DCeiver, Jason Stiles, Shane Wallis, Grady Fucking Weatherford, and probably one other person at least. Hugh directs, thereby providing sufficient implication that we have in some way rehearsed this. Sure to be entertaining, so come on by, it's free free free.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

Getting ready to get killed with ready.gov--atomic style.

Frequent readers of DCeiver know that we have a special place in our black hearts for the working professionals over at the Department of Homeland Security, laboring to keep us safe, knowing that Condoleeza Rice won't read important intelligence reports even if they're titled: "Fuck! What Is That Thing? My God! Oh! Holy Shit! Duck, Condoleeza, duck!" We know their intentions are true. But there's been an awful lot of talk of the nuclear terrorism lately, and whether Washington DC is prepared for what might happen if terrorists decided to pull a 24 and detonate a nuclear weapon, or, worse still, turned menacing cougars loose in our streets.

Well, we've gone over to Steady Ready's webpage and perused their suggestions. Frankly, their tips leave us a little wanting. So, submitted for their approval, we've augmented their text a little bit in order to bring it further into the realm of helpful. We think you'll want to bookmark our guide as an alternative.




A nuclear blast is an explosion with intense light and heat, a damaging pressure wave and widespread radioactive material that can contaminate the air, water and ground surfaces for miles around. F'real y'all. It's fucking bananas. There is probably nothing, even in your vast history of attending Judas Priest concerts, that can compare. Yes, including the Screaming For Vengeance Tour. During a nuclear incident, it is important to avoid radioactive material, if possible. But hey, if there hasn't been a nuclear incident, feel free to get all touchy. While there are plenty of pointy-headed liberal elites calling themselves "experts" who may "predict" at this time that a nuclear attack is less likely than other types, terrorism by its nature is unpredictable. Get it? UNPREDICTABLE! All those Presidential Daily Briefs are "historical documents." All right? We just don't know, so don't ask.


If there is advanced warning of an attack:

First off: How did you get advance warning of the attack? You lucky bastard. We heard off all sorts of put options being placed right before 9-11 and we swore that we would get a piece of that action next time! Take cover immediately, as far below ground as possible, though you should know that the further you tunnel underground, the more likely it is you will encounter American Idol contestant Scott Savol. Under no circumstances should you allow him to strike you upside the head with his cell phone. Any shield or shelter will help protect you from the immediate effects of the blast and the pressure wave, though some shields will perform in a substandard fashion. You should not shield yourself behind tents, cardboard, the new Hot Hot Heat CD, the Cleveland Browns offensive line, that day pass to the White House Press Room, your home or car--really, anything other than six feet of reinforced titanium.

If there is no warning:

  1. Quickly assess the situation. Now, given the fact that there has been no warning, this means you should be constantly assessing the possibility of nuclear attack at every moment. Only by constantly remaining in this state of paranoid, jumpy fright can we assure you that you'll be adequately ready to accept Jenna Bush as our next Kommissar.
  2. Consider if you can get out of the area or if it would be better to go inside a building to limit the amount of radioactive material you are exposed to. In choosing an appropriate building in which to shelter so as to avoid radioactive poison, be mindful that you do not accidentally make matters worse by walking into a Red Lobster.
  3. If you take shelter go as far below ground as possible, close windows and doors, turn off air conditioners, heaters or other ventilation systems. Stay where you are, watch TV, listen to the radio, or check the Internet. We hear that Desperate Housewives show is really cool. Better yet, the domain name for holyshitmyskinismeltinginahaloofatomicfire.blogspot.com is still available.
  4. To limit the amount of radiation you are exposed to, think about shielding, distance and time.
  • Shielding: If you have a thick shield between yourself and the radioactive materials more of the radiation will be absorbed, and you will be exposed to less. Don't have a thick shield? Loser.
  • Distance: The farther away you are away from the blast and the fallout the lower your exposure. Considering that we have, as a nation, defeated totalitarianism, put men on the moon and set the pace for the technological addvances of the past two hundred years, the mere fact that it's necessary that we explain to you that you have to move AWAY from an explosion in order to be safe is indicative of the fact that we have all become vastly stupid.
  • Time: Minimizing time spent exposed will also reduce your risk. Remember when we told you a minute ago to "think about shielding, distance and time?" Well, you shouldn't have done that, because now you're dead.

Use available information to assess the situation. Here are some examples of how simple and observable information can give you an understanding of the situation you find yourself in.

  • From your position, can you hear a loud and unbearable cacophony of sounds punctuated by incomprehensible babbling? This is not a nuclear attack: you are at a Black Eyed Peas concert.
  • When you left your house this morning, had some kind of substantial damage been done to your neighborhood, leaving the immediate area washed out and blighted as if its previous identity had been erased? This is not a nuclear attack: Columbia Heights has finally been fully gentrified.
  • From your window, did you witness a nearly blinding, bright greenish light, followed by an eerie silence? This is not a nuclear attack: Ann Coulter has conceived a child.
  • Were you awakened by a loud noise and a hideous smell? This is not a nuclear attack: someone has left your clock radio alarm tuned to a channel with Mark Plotkin on it.
  • Your insides--can you see them? Or can you feel them leaking but are unable to see them because your eye sockets have been filled with a white-hot liquid? This may indicate a nuclear attack--but check to make sure you're not simply watching According to Jim again.

If there is a significant radiation threat, health care authorities may or may not advise you to take potassium iodide. Potassium iodide is the same stuff added to your table salt to make it iodized. You put that stuff in the salt with some other stuff and do that thing to it to make the thing happen. You know. Iodizization. Potassium iodide is important to take in the case of a nuclear attack because it may or may not protect your thyroid gland, which is particularly vulnerable, from radioactive iodine exposure. WARNING: Potassium iodide will offer you no protection from the fire, the mayhem, the explosions, the shockwaves, the falling buildings, the household objects that have suddenly become terrifying projectiles or the race of mutant-like creatures that will come after the holocaust. But what did your thyroid gland ever do to you? Show it that you at least give a shit. Take the potassium iodide! Buy some today. Buy it wholesale if you have to. Point blank: you can never have too much potassium iodide in your household. Plan to speak with your health care provider in advance about what makes sense for your family. I bet your health care provider just can't wait to have that conversation.

[Sponsored in part by the Potassium Iodide Manafuacturers of America.]

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

UPDATED: Tickets onsale tomorrow for Jurassic 5, Dinosaur Jr., LCD SOUNDSYSTEM at 9:30 club

Get ready for another session of all-star caliber verbal basketball at Nightclub Nine Three Zero by the Jurassic 5, appearing live and in person on June 8. All references to Jerry Stackhouse will be redacted. Or, if you'd rather relive the memory of getting that scorching case of tinnitus back when you were an undergrad, pony up the ducats to see Dinosaur Jr. plow a fresh trench through your ear canal on July 11. And, as previously announced--LCD Soundsystem/MIA are going on sale as well. Tickets to all three shows start selling today, Trip-Fives, at 10 in the AM.

DCeptette: We're sorry for getting your daughter involved in the porn industry, Ms. Chomko version

  1. Interweb who-dat DCBachelor breathlessly threatens that "the hammer is coming down on DCist very soon." Ooooh. We're so a'scurred! Still, we love a good mystery, even if it resolutely de minimis. PROBABLY REFERS TO: Some sort of one-third assed Kasey Dozier style bloggy flyswat. Geezy. So April 2005. PROBABLY DOESN'T REFER TO: Insider knowledge of a Rovian plot to send Tom DeLay out of his career in the Wellstone martyrdom method, i.e. shoving him out of a charter plane overhead the gathering DCistas. (Will ensure that Chief Ike's Mambo Room has recently reinforced their roof, anyway.) SECRETLY HOPING HE MEANS: That he's coming over to Mike Grass' great-aunt's place to put in some new crown molding. Chop chop, Bachelor! Her place isn't going to wainscot itself! (DC Bachelor)
  2. Tiffany Baxendell has only been in Washington for a week? Who knew? (DC Metroblogs)
  3. Craigslister offers a not-so-ringing endorsement of Annandale. Wow. That's raw. One question: what's an Annandale? (Craigslist)
  4. Laura Bush is accused of "Wonkette-izing" the White House Correspondents' Dinner, much in the same way one could accuse my cats of "Malkinizing" all over the living room carpet. (Wonkette)
  5. Kwame Brown's career as a Washington Wizard appears to be over. Look for Spike Lee to shoot new Nike commercial entitled: "Huh. It turns out Michael Jordan was sort of a fucking idiot!" (Washington Post)

Big Praise for Area Mechanics

As some of you have heard from me offline, one of the DCeiver's automobiles has been sputtering lately--lugging, coughing up blood when I step on the gas, the usual old car shittiness. Driving it the past week was such a weird process that when I got behind the wheel of Wife of DCeiver's car last night, my driving sense was so freakishly attuned to the other car that a casual observer would have thought I'd never driven stick before.

Getting a good mechanic to work on your car, someone who's going to dispense some remedy and not rip you off, is a challenge in itself for any consumer. Luckily, I've got some guys who have come through for me time and again--The Car Doctor in Falls Church, VA. It's a bit of a fucking hike, to be sure (they used to be not too far up Lee Highway from the Key Bridge, but when they moved I followed them)--but you get great work done and the gouge is not in effect. At least 75% of the time I've been given an estimate, my final bill has come in at LESS the previously stated amount, and it's NEVER. So these are mechanics with Honor, and it's probably high time I drove out there on a day off to bring those guys some coffee and donuts.

I'm sure some of you folks out there have good mechanics of your own, all over the Metro area. Drop off your kind words and references in the comment box if you want to give some due props to the folks that keep our jalopies running.

Monday, May 02, 2005

April 2004--A Month of DCeption in Retrospect

Well, April was a singularly memorable month at DCeiver HQ. Thanks to you readers, we outpaced all previous months in terms of site traffic, hitting marks that we, in all frankness, are not likely to hit again for some time. Though we'll certainly try to provide the content. The good news is that thanks to a bit of capital investment, the Diner Media Empire will soon have a new computer, replacing the one that now shits itself every fifteen minutes and goes dead. And yes, we've tried that. We tried that too. Believe me. It's time to say goodbye to the old and welcome a machine that will allow its users to maintain a train of thought for more than five minutes.

Other than that, many thanks to the readership. Many thanks to the blogroll. We promise to add some people this month. Especial thank yous to the guys at 1115.org and to the girl at Ultragrrrl for some link love over the past month.

Here's the month that were:

  • We revisit Big Yawn only to find atrociousness abounding. A month later, we're happy to report that thanks to us, the reviewer in question has offered up work that is comparatively superior and the nominal editors of the site seem to have accepted that checking for spelling errors is actually part of their job. We can't take credit for the BY regime's decision to stop telling people that Brendan Benson is British, but we're glad to see they take that aspect of the culture seriously as well.
  • We experience an ironic clash of imagery at the Nexus Gold Club.
  • DCSOB and I risk overexposure and, frankly, little else as we reveal DC's Most Loathsome. From the Smorgasblog to Imus in the Morning, our kiss was on their lips.
  • Remember the time that dude brought his luggage to the Capitol and everyone sort of freaked the fuck out? Good times.
  • Everyone gets to have at least one surreal taxi experience each month, only going forward, it'll be a lot more expensive.
  • Cockblocking the Bloc Party--tastes like a Drama Desk Award in the making!
  • Benedict XVI--the album!
  • Wistful water-colored memories of Splash Day consume George Bush and the other members of the Baby Boom Generation. Still the biggest day of the year for Galveston-based Astroglide wholesalers.
  • The occasion of the Examiner miscounting the Congressional membership gives way to a frank and disturbing conversation with its editor, John Wilpers.

Thanks for another great month! See you in May!