Marion Barry to Give Away Turkey, Crack

It's turkey time and Councilmember Marion Barry (D-Ward 8) is planning to give away 1,200 birds starting at 9 a.m today, so sayeth the Washington Post.

Apparently he does this every Thanksgiving. The article isn’t clear if he’s giving away live "birds," which if he were, would be pretty hilarious to watch.

But you’ve got to HURRY if you want one! This event started an hour ago. You don’t want to miss out on all that free turkey… and crack. Do you?

As tradition, the Mayor did the same thing earlier in the month, but still. This is Marion Barry we’re talking about. We’re watching closely because only he could fuck this up in classic Barry way.

Here's the kicker. Barry made a statement and it goes like this. Washington Post.com:

But Barry has words for any jaded souls out there.

"I think it is truly tragic when so many people are unable to afford a meal at thanksgiving due to the massive loss of jobs and the impact of a slow economy," Barry said in a statement announcing his program. "America is focused so much on Wall Street and Main Street, but nobody is focused on the side or the back street where poverty is prevalent. We as a society of people just don't care enough and that cycle must change."

Oh fuck you, Barry. “We” (read: white people) "just don’t care enough” about the poverty, the government inefficiency and the political cronyism in this city that you've helped to create and perpetuate? I’ve got news for you. The city government hasn’t cared in decades. Jaded are those kids stabbing each other in Anacostia High. Jaded are the children in the city turning to prostitution just to feed themselves. (Side note: Will someone please page Laura Sessions Stepp about this? I want her 1950’s utopian-centric head to explode.)

And lest we forget, Barry has been the lead proponent in erecting the new Nationals Stadium EPIC FAIL. Evidently his answer to helping poor people is to spend millions of taxpayer dollars to price them out of the ghetto and then give them a turkey as a parting gift. And, finally, Barry has been one of the chief assholes blocking Michelle Rhee’s educational reforms, arguably the last best hope for the District’s public school system. A wise man once said, you can give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. But teach a man how to fish and he can eat forever.

Well, you can give away a million turkey’s Barry, but you’re still a dick. Just sayin'.

I wish I were speedier with my cameraphone…

But I’m not, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. I had to drive through Georgetown yesterday and I saw:

1. A dude in a blue button-front shirt, bow tie, and pleated khakis (it’s like a uniform here for some reason);

and

2. Another dude in a lavender button-front shirt, a cream and black argyle vest, white dress pants, and white dress shoes, holding hands with a young lady blandly clad head to toe in what I can only assume to be Ann Taylor Loft (which, by the way, has won the Washington Post’s annual “Best Bets” thingy for best women’s “boutique” multiple times since I’ve lived here. What the fuck, everybody?).

First of all, it was like 35 degrees at that point. Wear a fucking coat, A, and B, do not assault my eyes with your fashion douchery in blinding white in goddamn November. Is that too much to ask? I know better than to ask for flat-fronted pants, but H. Maroni Christburgers, what the hell? The worst part is, I wasn’t even surprised to see that shit.

Douchemobile

Spotted on the streets of our fair metropolitan area last night was a late-model Mercedes with vanity plates sporting an oh-so-clever variation of the word "capitalist." And I ask you, in an area that is alternately one of the richest and poorest in the country, is it really necessary to tell someone that your car is better than theirs?

You may expect a real post from me later in the week. I look forward to working with all of you folks in what is a very challenging and dynamic blogging environment. Seasons greetings.

--M@

Taxi Stand Plan for Adams-Morgan: Fail.

Here's the thing about Adams Morgan: it sucks. Royally. Popped collars and white girls getting desperate at 2am, a lot of DMX and Britney Spears. Lord, deliver me. The traffic is horrible, even in the wee hours of the morning, what with all the cars stopping so a blond girl from Ohio can throw up in the middle of the street, and taxis sitting there waiting for drunk dudes to load some other drunk guy into the cab without accidentally un-popping his collar.

So I was kind of excited when I heard that the AdMo Business Improvement District had decreed that there would be two taxi stands in Adams Morgan, one at the top of the hill and the other at the bottom of the hill. No more taxis stopping every five feet, no more drunk idiots stopping traffic so they can all run across the street to get into a cab. Excellent plan. Maybe my bus won't take twenty minutes to go four blocks.

This being the district, where plans are transformed into reality by the same process that Santa delivers presents (namely, that neither of them deliver anything), the plan did not go as expected. If you are going to go to the trouble of making a plan and hiring people, you might want to go ahead and enforce the new rules. Last night there were like fifty people at each taxi stand, waiting for their taxis, but the taxis were picking up fares anywhere that was convenient. Nice work, everyone.

Taxi Cab Drivers: you are fucking morons at the best of times. Don't push your luck. No one loves you.

Police: Start giving out some god damn tickets! Shoot your guns in the air Sarah-Palin-style! Tazer them! What ever! Just start writing violations.

Public-in-General: Attack at will. It's for the best, really.

D.C. Council's Pretend Rules

In case you missed it, on Nov. 4 we also had some local elections. Longtime D.C. Councilmember Carol Schwartz (R-At Large) lost her bid in the primary and ran as an independent. She lost in the general election, and Michael Brown was elected. Brown, a lifelong Democrat and outspoken supporter of Barack Obama, was running as an independent.

There's no question that Michael Brown is a Democrat. His father was Ron Brown, Secretary of Commerce under Bill Clinton and former Chairman of the DNC. You may recall Ron Brown died in Croatia on a trade mission when his plane crashed.

Anyhow, so Michael Brown, a lobbiest who has run for the D.C. Council and Mayor in the past, pretends to be an independent. Why? Beacuse there's this rule that says no more than 3 of the Council's at-large seats can be held by the same political party. There's already three Democrats and one Independent on the Council, so Brown could not run as a Democrat.

Now the D.C. Republican Party is suing, saying Brown can't take office because he's really a Democrat.

Now I don't even know where to start with this circus. I'll start off by saying I didn't vote for Brown, and for the first time in my life actually voted for a Republican, Patrick Mara. But that's neither here nor there.

I can tell you one thing, the D.C. GOP will not be successful, and Michael Brown will take office. Gonna happen.

The voters spoke and picked Brown... so we either have to go with that, or say the law trumps that and have a special election where only "real" Independents or Republicans can run. What's the litmus test for a real Independent? Brown is clearly a Democrat at heart... but on paper he is no longer a memeber of the Democratic Party. The law uses the term "affliation," not "registered member." Brown voted in the Democratic primary this past February, and then switched to Independent a few months later.

So how about this stupid rule? Should it stand? Should rules be used to try and prop up a minority party? Can we please have a law that says no more than 60% of the Council can be Democrats, and no more than 0% can be Marion Barry?

Oh Hi.

Yeah, you don't know me but I totally recognise you. From that time before. With all the booze? Now you remember.

I first read this blog years ago, before I moved back the the states. I used to read this blog, Princess Sparkle Pony, and Wonkette all the time. I imagined that DC would be worldly and international, and probably, maybe, I may or may not have assumed that I would attend a party at an embassy. At the time, I was squatting on a rice mat in my tiny Japanese apartment with my boyfriend, imagining what life would be like when we returned to the land of drive-thru bars, cheese as far as the eyes could see, and a real copy of the Washington Post. I was assuming there would be less bowing, more fried chicken, maybe some waffles. And I was right, and it was great. However, there also happened to be interns, the whole "young-professional" crowd, people wearing sneakers with pant-suits, motorcades, and the holocaust that is the DC Department of Motor Vehicles. Oh District of Columbia: you are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, stuffed into a used bag from Popeye's Fried Chicken.

So that's why I am participating in this public stoning, if you will, of what I don't like about our dear District. I mean, there's lots of stuff I do like, so it won't be just pages of moaning. It will be pages of entertaining moaning, the kind you kids like. I also am here, for those of you who don't remember the time from before with all the booze.

So with the obligatory intro out of the way, I'll be back soon.

Kids These Days

I don't want to sound like a "hey childrens, get off my lawn" kind of guy, but something bizarre happened to me last night that I want to share.
First off, let me just say that the hood kids in this town are fucking nuts. Yesterday, Anacostia High School experienced what the Washington Post casually describes as "a disturbance" that left five students injured, including three with stab wounds:

The disturbance at Anacostia High School began shortly after 12:30 p.m. when two students began fighting in a second-floor hallway, said Assistant Police Chief Diane Groomes. While officers assigned to the school were breaking up the fight, someone set a small fire in another hallway on the floor, Groomes said. During the evacuation of the school's 1,100 students, more fights broke out among rival groups.

Groomes said five students were taken to hospitals -- three with stab wounds, one who was hurt in a fight and one who had an asthma attack. The teenager who was hurt while fighting is suspected of stabbing at least one of the other students with a shank"penlike knife," Groomes said.

For the record, Anacostia High looks like a goddamn penitentiary:









The article also details several other fun-filled extracurricular activities happening in DC schools:

• Two students at Ballou High were arrested last week after a girl was hit with pepper spray and stabbed.


• The 7th Police District deploys 17 officers, the district's entire foot patrol unit, outside the school each afternoon to make sure that its 1,500 students "leave in a safe and orderly fashion."


• At Hart High, police have responded to three separate instances of assaults on teachers this year.


• Seventh grade girls in one school regularly experience "disputes and instances of girls being improperly touched by male students."

Good times, good times. It's like High School Musical except the singing and dancing is replaced with prison violence.

So back to my original reason for posting today. At around 9pm last night, I made a quick run to the Waterfront CVS, which just so happens to be the place where an eldery woman and a police officer were randomly attacked by a group of teens this month. Fun fact: the hoodlums tried to steal the officer's gun. Kids, if your goal was to intimidate this white boy from running errands in his neighborhood at night, mission accomplished.

So anyway, as I was driving to CVS, I came across an intersection that had been obstructed by a row of big black trash bags full of leaves or god knows what. Evidently, some kids set up the bags like a barricade preventing me and three other cars from crossing the intersection. Why? Who knows. How do I know hood rats were responsible? Because all 10 of them we're standing right there on the sidewalk watching us.

So, being the upright citizen that I am, I decided to call the Police Department just to let them know that someone might want to clear the road. Yes, I have the police saved in my cell phone. I live in Southwest, remember? Here'y my call in dramatic reenactment format:

Dispatcher: "Hello, District 1 Police Department? I'm doing my nails. Whatcha want."

Me: "Hi, I'd like to report some kids obstructing the intersection of I Street and 3rd, SW?"

Dispatcher: "Lafonda, get me a pepsi!"

Me: "Hello? Its not urgent but I've read there's a youth crime problem here and..."

Dispatcher: "Where you at?"

Me: "I told you. 3rd and--"

Dispatcher: "Whats your name and number?"

Me: "It's King Friday, 202-XXX-XXXX. Shouldn't you have your caller ID swithced on?

Dispatcher: "Mmm hmm. What do you want to report?"

This went on for a while, but eventually she took my information and promised to send a car. Imagine my surprise when on the return trip 15 minutes later I saw the barricade still there as well as the kids. Thanks, DC police. Glad to know you're taking your youth violence task force to heart.

Do your worst

So in just about two months, this site has gone from zero bloggers to five. Damn. It'll be fun to see what happens.

I'm Dave, and here's my little fluff piece about who I am, and why I'm writing here. Aside from the fact that I must be a self-important asshole because I write for (multiple) blog(s).

I've been reading this site for a few years now. I rarely comment because I have a strong dislike for Blogger and all the little hoops you have to jump through to leave comments. But, I bit the bullet and activated this account so I could write here. I think I had a Blogger account back in 2001, but no one knew what a blog was back then.

Anyhow, I'm Dave and I don't come from small town America. I came to DC from the wasteland that is the unaffluent suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. You know how Barack Obama did community organizing in the areas that lost all their jobs because steel mills shut down? Yeah, that's the next town over (and the city of my birth!). Sure, people in my town mostly work in the city and still have jobs, but it's not some fancy pants area like McLean or Chevy Chase.

I came to DC in 2002 for school, and attended a university completely full of the people I hate (aside from the roughly 20 people I would consider friends). Going to such a place, though, provides a somewhat decent introduction to what life has in store if you stay in D.C. Sure, there are "cooler" parts of town, but pretty much the same people. And I think the non-asshole/asshole ratio (20/~10,000) holds up across neighborhoods.

I've been in DC ever since, and have done various things at various times. I've had a couple decent jobs, and I've done the whole, life falls apart, work retail and at a rock club gig. For some reason, mostly beyond understanding, I'm still here. There are a lot of things about this city that piss me off, and I figure I might as well write about them. I'll attempt to offer some sort of constructive criticism, because I have a feeling the people in the Wilson building have nothing better to do than read blogs. Fenty probably gets email updates from this blog on one of his 20 Blackberries.

I'll be writing mostly about D.C. Government, and I'll probably be bashing WMATA a bunch as well. This town is falling apart, much like the rest of the country right now. There's a moderate chance we could see some actual changes here in DC in the next 4-8 years, even maybe getting a vote in Congress. Personally, I'd prefer just to be exempt from income tax instead, but hey, whatever. But unless all this shit that's broken now gets fixed, an actual voice in Congress isn't going to do anything, for anyone.

I'm going to bring this fluff piece to an end now, but I'll have some real red meat for you soon. In the meantime, I'm going to remind everyone, since it's been a while since Rusty had talked about it...

Estimated cost to the District of Columbia for Nationals' Park: $769.6 million
Estimated cost to the District of Columbia to buy every man, woman and child in the city a Glock 30: $382.4 million

I'll end each and every post with a ridiculous comparison such as that one.

Cheers.

Four Million Lousy Handjobs All At One Time

Like a supervillian who won’t DIE, Metro lives on. Ugh. Metro has agreed to pay a portion of the money KBC Bank was demanding thereby satisfying the terms of their lease. City officials have declared this a successful resolution. But come on, even though they didn’t pay the full $43 million (which is double KBC’s original investment), the reality is that $17 million just got sucked out of riders' safety and maintenance budgets. That’s like saying: "Well, you've been raped, but hey, at least you're not pregnant!"

So much for my idea of reincarnating Metro. Konichiwa, futuristic trains! It’s a shame especially because the Park Service expects there to be ohhh… 4 million people on the national mall for Inauguration Day. And how will the city’s transit system fare?

Flashback to 1976, says the Washington Post:

That year, a million spectators were expected on the Mall to celebrate the Bicentennial. Transit officials urged people to take public transportation and promised special service. But there was nothing special about the Fourth of July traffic jam, which stranded cars and buses for hours.

Oh you poor, poor idealistic suckers spectators. I guess I'm happy that so many people want to celebrate Obama’s Inauguration, but I was around for the 2004 Bush Inauguration too. Talk about a cluster fuck. As I recall, the city was flooded with large, midwestern, crazy Mormon types with ten-gallon bucket hats aimlessly meandering about. Not fun.

Now I can appreciate tourists wanting to visit the city (so long as they stay outta my way). It’s the nation’s capital after all. But all of them at the same time??? Only 230,000 people will have “reserved” spots in viewing areas close to the capitol portico, and Fenty says we can expect some of the remaining 3.5 million people to camp out the night before. You guys, this is going to suuuuuck. I may just take a week’s vacation and bail on the city (and this blog) around then. Who's with me?

My apartment is a ten minute walk to the capitol and two blocks from the Metro. I haven’t decided if I’m going to rent out my crappy studio. People say I should, but I don’t know. I’ve always despised the city for charging ridiculous ammounts for rent. So how much better would I be for jacking prices even higher even if it’s just for one day? It would only add to the misimpression that people should want to live here. But then again, this is DC. How many people are really thinking about what’s fair?

Love Hate

Washington, D.C., seen from the proper perspective, in Arlington, Va.

Contributor’s Note: The day finds me on business in New York City, writing this post (and sharing my images) during a welcome reprieve from our city, Washington, D.C.—M@, publisher of Animal Mind.

**

Recognizable to patrons of the National Zoo might be similarities not only among species of the kingdom but between inhabitants and visitors—those animals in the primate house peering at one another from opposing sides of the glass.

Outside on the street, the observer loses this perspective, dissolving once again into his persona, only partially aware of the “intraspecific” territoriality that mirrors the behavior of those great apes incarcerated here by the zoo or the D.C. Department of Corrections further downtown.

Years ago, the walk down Columbia Road in Adams Morgan proves a visceral experience, my head bobbing in a fast-moving river of bumping shoulders, dirty looks and bad karma. A black midget stands on the corner by the bodega, smoking. “Fuck you lookin’ at?”

Nothing.

At 18th Street, a small crowd gathers on the far side of the intersection around a mound covered with a white sheet—fresh road kill—and I wonder if he’s Hispanic, imagining the funeral dirge. Ave Maria, mi amigo. As a former speechwriter for the U.S. Department of Transportation, I can tell you the annual pedestrian death rate here remains unparalleled in the nation at 62 per 1,000 residents, according to 2006 data. Most of those killed are Hispanic. Is this racism? I don’t speculate.

Independent traffic safety engineers, however, call the problem “multi-factorial,” citing a litany of problems including poor lighting, outdated infrastructure, speeding and, notably, racist drivers. Yet, a full 84 percent of pedestrian deaths in the District may be attributed to one simple causal factor, the failure to utilize a safety device standardized on the automobile in the mid-1960s—the turn signal.

Worsening the problem, the government advises visiting motorists to refrain from using their turn signals so as not to confuse locals, prompting the inevitable question, “But what if there’s a cop there?”

Answer: Especially, if there’s a cop there—because you don’t want the cop to think you’re a dork.


Click to enlarge: D.C. Pedestrian Algorithm exemplifies the most common interactions on the city's sidewalks.

Yet, however brutal the manifestation of our territoriality on the road, the sidewalks and pathways of our city prove that much more personal, filled with angry Homo sapiens dismounted temporarily from their vehicles. As I trot through Georgetown along the rain-slicked path by the Potomac River last Thursday, inane thoughts bubble randomly to the surface of my mind, evincing within me a deep hunger for embedded wireless connectivity, always.

I wonder how tall Muhammad Ali is?

My feet pound the ground.

I guess I could just ask someone.

My feet pound the ground.

It probably doesn’t matter though.

My pace quickens as Peter Gabriel fades into T-pain and I swing around the corner onto Arlington Memorial Bridge, careful not to slip on the pavement, heading back to Virginia. A throng of runners approach me in the dark night, some two dozen members of a running club, lights affixed to their baseball caps—looking like coal miners fleeing a ceiling collapse. As I move to the far right, four run abreast and I stare into the face of the man running toward me, who looks askance, pretending he doesn’t see me.

T-pain, give me strength.

Lowering my left shoulder, I brace for the impact, him for the worse but me spinning around as I lose my iPod, another runner flashing me an accusatory look, branding me the transgressor, the interloper on their bridge.

What the fuck?

As I continue along the bridge, a young woman, too, comes straight at me and I think of Ralph Ellison and his Invisible Man and wonder why they cannot see my white skin gleaming under the towering lights. She comes straight at me in a game of chicken I cannot now lose, bad karma emanating from my left shoulder throughout my body and into my mind. Stopping short, I catch her in my arms, her body glancing off my chest and spinning around, seeing me now, shock and bewilderment coloring her face.

And she’s just my type: thin, pretty, white with brown hair. A feeling arises in me hitherto fore unknown. I want to rape her.

In my animal mind, I force her against the railing and push into her, afterward tossing her over the side, burying her in the cold and the wet and the deep—satiating, for now, my love for the city, my hatred.


Click to enlarge: This diagram makes abundantly clear what happened on Arlington Memorial Bridge at approximately 8 p.m. on Thursday, Nov. 13.

Meet Melpomene, the muse of tragedy

Hi there. You may remember me from my brilliant and incisive comments on this blog under the clever and obscure pseudonym “anonymous.” But you may not remember me, so I thought it would be proper to introduce myself and tell you why I hate D.C.

Unlike other metropoli in our fine country, many of which were highly populated by Native Americans before the white man arrived to seriously fuck their shit up, D.C. isn’t a natural city. It’s a contrivance -- a faux city built on a random swamp so the tenuous compromises between the northern and southern states could persist in the early days of our country’s infancy. So, D.C.’s main problem, the fact that it is fucking soulless, kind of makes sense. When our Founding Fathers decided to fix the seat of government up in here, it wasn’t exactly the best way to plant community roots. I think D.C. was probably the Columbia, Md., of the late 1700s, but with fewer crappily constructed townhouses. (I mean, let’s face it, a lot of the older townhouses we’ve got are at least pleasing to the eye.)

But obviously, the city happened, right? And here we are on the east coast in what’s supposedly a large cosmopolitan city, and shit is set up so you might reasonably expect it to be a cool town, like there’s museums and restaurants and universities and major media outlets and a subway and everything, but yet, something is missing. And I don’t think it’s just the lack of thousands of years of history that’s preventing me from enjoying this place. We all know what the main problem is, haters. Modern-day D.C.’s issues stem from one central and inescapable tragedy: the majority of people in or near the city limits at any given time are a bunch of self-important, self-entitled, douchetastic assholes.

We have stupid tourists who visit here, stupid tourists who live here, a bunch of fucking wonks who don’t live here but do work and get wasted here, and enough air-headed rich sorority girls that we’re getting our own terrible reality show about their ridiculous lives. Every time I leave my apartment (which, at this point, I do as little as possible), I have some bullshit encounter with an idiot and/or asshole. It’s usually small things, like passive-aggressive tourists harassing me because I politely ask them to stand to the right on the escalator when I’m running late, or some clipboard-laden teenager screaming “BUT WHY DON’T YOU CARE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT?! DO YOU HATE TREES??” at me as I politely decline to chat with him on my goddamn precious free time, or some drunk asshole throwing the remains of his beverage at me from his car while I’m innocently walking home on a Saturday night (?!). But, you know, over time, repeated exposure to minor incidents of assholitry take a toll and turn a girl into a bitter, crochety, hostile old lady.

So, that’s me. And that’s my take on why D.C. is tragic. I’m on my seventh year of living in this crapfest of a city, so I do speak from experience (unlike my predecessor Liz, I suspect). Of course, the soullessness and the assholes aren’t the only problems we have around here -- you know, like, for example, pretty much everything from Metro to jury duty to taxis to social issues is dysfunctional in the extreme -- but the soullessness and the assholes are the ones that make me lose my will to live (or at least my will to live here). All the eye-pleasing architecture and quality building materials in the world can’t make up for the douchebaggery living in those Georgetown and Dupont Circle townhouses. My tragic encounters with those and other jackoffs are what I plan to describe to you in my contributions to this blog, although I hope I never have any material again, but alas, I doubt I’ll be that lucky.

New Monkeys!

I'm getting lonely blogging about DC all by myself. I think its high time we add some contributors who can help rejuvenate the hate. Plus I'm sick of reading my posts as much as you.

Starting this week, please welcome:

• M@ from Animal Mind, whom we all know and love,

• The Badger King from the always witty Shiftless Badger,

• Dave, who has far, far more cred than I when it comes to covering DC politics,

• Just a Small Town Girl, she's a girl from a small town which means she's probably really mini,

• And Melpomene, a lovely woman who sparked my fancy in last month's essay contest.

Hate away, guys. And remember: Washington, DC is the most fucked up, neurotic, and poorly managed urban jungle in the history of mankind. This won't be hard.

What Do Blood, And Gore, And Eleanore Holmes Norton Have In Common?

As much as it sucks living in DC, I thank God each and every day that I don’t live in Maryland. I’m especially grateful that I’m not a garbage man in Montgomery County:

"A sanitation worker was crushed Wednesday morning by the municipal truck on which he worked, according to the Montgomery County Police Department. The incident occurred about 8:30 a.m. and involved an unidentified Hispanic man caught in the recycling truck compactor that was operating in the Aspen Hill area, police said."

And if that weren’t enough, the Washington Post revealed today that Maryland residents have a tendency to go around stabbing people:

"Fla. Man Fatally Stabbed On Trip to Deliver a Boat
After picking up a boat in ironically named Welcome, Md., on Wednesday night, [Shelton Stephens] pulled his truck into the parking lot of a Hooters in Waldorf and went inside. Stephens, 52, sat down near a Waldorf man named Joseph J. Plass. It is not clear what, if anything, the two men said to each other. What is clear, police said, is that after they left about 7:30 p.m., Plass, 57, pulled a knife and stabbed Stephens in the upper body."

The article continues…

"On Tuesday, police found the body of 28-year-old Daniel Cordova, who was naked and had been fatally stabbed, behind a Waldorf home improvement store."

Man, first in Home Depot and now Hooters?? Attention men (and maybe some of you lesbians), don't go anywhere north of Silver Spring.

Meanwhile back in DC, imaginary Congresswoman Eleanor Holmes Norton did a premature victory dance in front of the Senate Dirksen Building yesterday.

D.C. Delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton, emboldened by the election of Barack Obama to the presidency, predicts Congress will approve by next year long-sought D.C. voting rights legislation. "The election has made it all but inevitable," Mrs. Norton said Thursday.

Aww, Pinocchio thinks he’s going to become a real boy.

DCist Rips Off W.I.H.D.C.... Again!

Well, maybe not. But probably.

Teh DCist: Tony Williams Turns Vigilante

Anthony Williams personally stopped a thief on K Street yesterday afternoon. He was apparently walking by when he saw a guy nab a package from a UPS deliverman's hand truck. Our newly dubbed "Mr. Bow Tie" crime fighting superhero immediately started running after the culprit, catching up with him and getting the stolen package back.

Did you see it? To the untrained hater, that might not look like much. An amusing anecdote, sure. But calling Tony Williams "Mr. Bow Tie" was something first invented (as far as I can tell) by the brilliant creator of this blog, James F. Just look in the archives, here, here, here, here, here.... here... here. Oh and here. In fact, for about three years James F called him that.

"newly dubbed."

Actually, its entirely plausible that this is purely coincidental. The writers at DCist could indeed be as creative as James F or anyone else with a blog. But I'm still going to exploit this...

Even if you don't like Liz, or Rusty, or me for that matter, James F is undeniably the gold standard of DC hate. He was awesome. He is legend. I encourage everyone to read as many of his posts as possible and not just to spite the DCist. You'll be glad you did.

I just wonder what James F would think about this. I'm not talking about stealing his shit. I mean, what would he say about Bow Tie running down a theif:

"I said to myself, 'Do I just stand here? No, this can't happen,' " Williams told us. "And I just started running."

My pussy gets wet just thinking about it.

Relishing in Metro's Pain

The "latest" on the Metro-KBC Bank fiasco is that a federal judge suggested the two parties negotiate a compromise. Here’s a compromise for you, albeit a completely facetious one. KBC Bank should repo Metro. Take it all back. Impound the trains, rip them from the tracks and put 'em on the first boat to Europe. At least this way Metro can start anew. Let's bring in a Japanese firm. Have them build some kind of sleek, fully-automated, magnetic hovercraft trains. Let them paint Hello Kitty all over the place if that makes it cheaper.

I’m becoming obsessed with this story. I guess it’s because Metro is finally getting screwed for once instead of the one doing the screwing. After years of crappy service, the karma deficit they’ve racked up has come full circle. I take immense joy in their suffering.

Here’s the scandalous part. From what I can tell, KBC Bank has made a hefty profit off the deal because they technically own the trains. But the mulah ain’t coming solely from leasing the equipment back to Metro, no, it comes from KBC Bank being able to accrue tax breaks.

The Washington Post:

Under the deals, known as lease-back transactions, transit agencies such as Metro sold their rail cars or other equipment to banks and then leased them back. The banks received a tax break on the depreciation of the rail cars. The IRS ended the practice in 2004.

Oh those trains depreciate, alright. What a deal. Now I have even less sympathy for those rascally Belgians.

Treasury officials are reluctant to step in because they would be bailing out a tax-avoidance strategy, sources familiar with Treasury's thinking have said.

The judge suggested that KBC was motivated to collect payment from Metro as a way to recoup some of its tax breaks.

In other news, Fenty is going after shady used car
lots:

The closure of the car lot comes on the heels of a city-wide sweep the mayor has launched on 100 used car businesses in the city. The investigation focuses on everything from license violations to illegal activity. Police say they have even found a stolen car in one shop.

Aside from the aesthetic improvements resulting from these lot closures (and they are eyesores if you happen to live near one), I predict there will be a slight drop in auto thefts now. As someone who was almost carjacked in NE once, I applaud this action.

Lastly, M@, stay out of the DC strip clubs. It's for your own safety.

Belgium: Metro's Angry Pimp

A Belgian bank that entered into a long-term $43 million loan with Metro wants its money back. All of it. Now. This story has been brewing for a while but now it hinges on what the courts do next.

The Washington Post:

Metro officials are scheduled to ask a federal judge today to temporarily bar a Belgian bank [KBC Group] from collecting $43 million from the cash-strapped transit agency. The bank is demanding the payment because its long-term financing agreement with Metro has unraveled, a consequence of the global credit crisis.

That would mean less money for much-needed capital projects, including overhauling escalators, fixing tunnel leaks, upgrading train communication equipment and buying buses.

Naturally, the Washington area's congressional delegation (and make-believe Congresswoman Eleanore Holmes Norton) are lobbying the Treasury Department to back Metro using the $700 billion bailout package approved by Congress a month ago or so. Squeezing $43 million out of $700 billion shouldn't be too difficult, and even if it is, Congress will probably pass additional bailouts so be on the lookout for one of the biggest Congressional earmarks in DC history.

As much as I despise Metro, even I admit its only reasonable to keep those shit trains solvent. But I can't help being confused by two things (partly due to my ignorance of the lending industry): #1) Who in the fuck would ever ever EVER invest in Metro?? Buyer beware, Belgium. And #2) Why with this obvious crisis are people advocating constructing not one but TWO new metro lines-- Purple for Maryland and Silver for Dulles??

With respect to point numero uno, the Washington Post explains how Metro got the cash:

Known as lease-back transactions, the deals were done from the late 1980s to 2003, and allowed cash-strapped agencies, such as Metro, to sell their rail cars or other equipment to private companies, such as banks, and then lease them back.

I ask you, Belgium, did you even bother examining the trains? Did you not think to review Metro's dismal safety record or ever-expanding operating budget to say nothing about investigating the city's inability to manage its budget or keep District employees from embezzling millions of dollars? Use "teh Google" next time, frenchie. Wikipedia has some great pics of like three Metro derailments.

I just can't get over this. It's like Belgium tried to pimp out a hooker without first inspecting the goods. In this case, the chick turned out to be a bearded transvestite with a huge hairy cock... who knew!? (By the way, I'm pretty sure this is the living arrangement of a couple in my building).

Well, we all knew that Metro was nothing more than a cracked out tranny giving lousy handjobs for $2.20 a pop. Moreover, all of those people wanting to spend MORE taxpayer dollars to expand the system KNOW THIS TOO and they need to STFU.

Transit officials, grow a pair and start telling people "NO." And city officials, back them up. Doors closing, bitches.

LOL DC Crime

The "pulls and rhythms" of DC are making it so that I have the next few days off (thank you, Veterans), so I'll be phoning it in today.

Here's a few LOL Crimes that happened over the weekend...

An ambulance was stolen from outside Howard University Hospital Sunday night. The emergency vehicle was stolen about 8:15 p.m. Sunday and was found about an hour later at North Capitol and Bryant streets, but not before the driver crashed it into a car at Georgia Avenue and Bryant Street.

Remember: this is Howard University Hospital we're talking about. The runaway ambulance was probably missing for half the day before anyone back at the hospital noticed. And the theives almost made it all the way to Maryland! As for suspects, I say police should investigate some of the hospital's criminally negligent technicians to see if they're involved in some kind of ambulance chop shop. Throw some hydraulics on there. Fog lights. Spoiler. A window sticker of Calvin pissing on something.

Speaking of pissing, look at what the Washington Post is covering:

A City Council member from Jersey City was arrested over the weekend after patrons at a Northwest Washington nightclub complained that someone had urinated on them from the balcony, according to police and media reports.

How's the pale ale, Stiffler? Now who called the Fun Police is what I want to know. I'd like to see more of this quite frankly. Why doesn't this happen more often in places that are rich in targets? I'm looking at you, Adams Morgan. Oh, oh, Georgetown would be good too.

Actually, anyone who's ever been to Jersey City knows that peeing on someone at a bar is a remarkably effective pick-up technique there.

Darling, We Simply Must Do This Again In 4 Years

Election Day has come and gone and I’m trying very hard to be hateful for you today. I’m unseasonably upbeat because the mood in DC is one of general relief that the election is finally over. The city is living the last days of the Bush Era, for better or for worse. I won’t pass judgment on President Bush or his politics. That’s not the purpose of this blog. I’m just saying Bush will soon fade into the recesses of American history, and that must bring comfort to those who’ve despised him for eight years as well as respite for the die-hard (and semi fucked in the head) Bushies who so steadfastly defended him. So yeah, totally not passing judgment. We don’t do that here at Why I Hate DC.

Anywho… It may surprise you that on election night I attended the main RNC festivities downtown at the Capital Hilton. Just for a little bit. Don’t ask me how I got the tickets, or why I chose to go. I’m not entirely sure actually. It was the first time I’ve been to that sort of thing… and it goes straight to the top of my Did Once And Never Do Again List.

Now I know what you’re thinking. I could sit here and slam the abundant number of under-24 young white male goobers that made up half of the otherwise respectable crowd, but I won’t. However, I do have a message for such riff raff, and it applies to both young Republicans and young Democrats: Guys, you are not the next Karl Rove. Stop repeating what the television pundits say right after they say it and stop acting like it’s your original thought. It’s annoying.

Actually more annoying than that was discovering the RNC only had cash bars. No open bars! Since when did the Republican Party get so cheap?? Damn.

Actually, the MOST annoying thing about Election Night was my encounter with a swindling parking garage attendant across from the hotel. Looking back I should have taken a cab, but I parked because I drove from Annandale (eh hem) and the “victory party” was en route. Why is it that parking garage attendants think they can scam you into paying twice as much as what’s listed on the VERY LARGE SIGN OUT FRONT? And why do they always pretend to be surprised that its there after I demonstrate that I'm capable of reading it and pointing? I know I’m not alone in this experience. It happens to me way to often to be an isolated case. I just hate the feeling of handing over your car keys after arguing with them. That’s the worst part. It makes you feel like even though you won, you’ve still been suckered somehow. It's a lot like the feeling you get after Inauguration Day.

"Me Fail English? Unimpossible!"

The other day I found in my mailbox a copy of the DC Voters' Guide. You know, those booklets that list the different ballot measures and candidates from Mayor, to town dogcatcher, to fake Congresswoman. Towards the back they have statements written by the candidates themselves. I read through most of them, and they were all boring, with the exception of one gold nugget in Ward 8's Board of Education race.

This is one of those things that makes you wonder if the District's schools system will ever be fixed. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Chanda McMahan who thought it best to use a single incoherent run-on sentence to highlight her educational qualifications. I didn't alter her words. This is what she, a school board candidate (AND teacher?), actually provided:

"The statement of a candidate that declares my information deemed necessary to protect the qualified experiences of/and the integrity for the School Board's Participation are the 10 years of experience of Teaching in the Public Schools and the priorities which process the stature of qualified participation to support the focus of the school's mission and accomplishments that defend the appropriate education-with rights to an adequate education."
DC Board of Elections and Ethics. District of Columbia Voter's Guide. 2008 ed. Page 48.

Oh Ward 8, you never disappoint.

***UPDATE***
Egads! I've been informed that the DCist apparently posted a story that's very similar to mine and didn't give me credit or even bother linking. They even used my "gold nugget" analogy. F. U., DCist. I may be new to the blog scene, but I'm holding my own and want credit if not for me than for Why I Hate DC. In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny-- "Of course you realize, this means war." Prepare to receive an envelope in your mailbox that's stuffed full of poop.

School Board Campaign Sign Fail

It’s not too soon to start stealing off other blogs is it? Ward 5's Robert Brannum is running for DC State Board of Education.

(Source: Bloomingdale via Princess Sparkle Pony™ )