Plus, somehow, I'm living in what has to be the slummiest neighborhood in Arlington.
You may have read recently about how Bob Woodward would move a flowerpot on his balcony to signal Deep Throat that he wanted a meeting. Well, it's a good thing he didn't live in my neighborhood.
Because the balconies in the buildings adjacent to mine have all been condemned.
Yep, the county affixed the tell-tale Orange Placards of Condemnation to all the doors. They've been up for a month and a half now. Strangely, the balconies in my building were not condemned... even though the structures are basically identical (you've seen one cube-shaped brick building, you've seen them all).
Down the street, on Lee Highway, there's a 7-11. Attached to which, there used to be a "restaurant" called Rita's Place, which was eventually replaced by Wesley Clark presidential campaign headquarters.
Obviously, that didn't work out. Poor Wesley, drafted into service by his supporters, got stomped like a kitten in a crush video. And so, Wesley Clark's campaign headquarters were replaced with...
You guessed it. Absolutely nothing. Plus, for some reason, I have this strange urge to vote for Pepsi on Feb. 10.
(Now I've done it... the comments section will surely be filled with libertarians smugly declaring that they, being in-your-face independent thinkers, voted for a third-party cola; I'm guessing Sam's Choice.)
Meanwhile, across the street is... Psychic Lady.
Oh no, I just realized the irony of the situation... if only Wesley Clark's campaign staffers had taken the time to visit "Ms. Adams: Psychic Palm/Card Reader" across the street, they would have known their efforts were futile. Surely they must have known when the psychic was available, thanks to the neon sign that says OPEN.
So, there you go. Come to my neighborhood for all your Wesley Clark campaign and/or psychic needs. It's a non-stop fucking party.
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