Where C-SPAN is the local TV news
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| The Washington Canard Where C-SPAN is the local TV news |
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Monday, June 28, 2004
Sunday, June 20, 2004
FAMOUS FOR DC  Sort of long ago (three years?) and not so far away (maybe a dozen blocks south of here) I approached Jonah Goldberg (mentioned in this post, which was supposed to come right before this one -- oh well) at an event to honor conservative college journalists (we picked up at least two awards) and told him he looked even fatter in person than he said he was. This, because he'd written several times that fans would come up to him and similar events and tell him: 'Hey, you're not so fat.' So this was my attempt at originality. He chuckled, but I doubt he was all that pleased. And surely other half-in-the-bag college students had said the same thing to him before at other such events.
Anyway, enough with the trip down memory lane. That path has long grown over with weeds; allow me to look back on one more recently traveled: The other night I was at the terrace-equipped Morton's on Connecticut at a reception to honor Weekly Standard reporter Steve Hayes, whose book "The Connection" is just out. The booze was free but alas the book was not. So I have not read it -- but I'm reasonably certain all the basic points are covered right here. Of all people Goldberg was at the event, and though I didn't talk to him this time, I did almost spill my glass of wine all over his suit. Truly a missed opportunity. I also managed to snag ten minutes of Christopher Hitchens' time, which made my day, week, month and year-to-date. First off I asked about his Slate essay on Ronald Reagan -- couldn't his kind of complaints about Reagan be applied to Bush, whom Hitch supports? Yet the last paragraph seemed incongruous -- it seemed to praise Reagan for getting communism right -- Hitch nodded and said he was having some fun with the "liberal intelligentsia." (Note: Having met him means I can use that nickname with authority. Or something.) On the downside, he seemed a bit nonplussed when I told him that it seemed to me his "Fighting Words" column didn't get as high a billing as, say, Fred Kaplan's highly pessimistic Iraq writing. Not actually reading Slate much himself, I'm afraid I sowed a bit of discontent. Oh, who am I kidding? I hope he reads Jacob Weisberg the riot act. Frankly, I was just pleased with myself for holding my own with him for that long, and he seemed pleased that I had actually read "Why Orwell Matters." And I concluded by mentioning a bit of shared knowledge about a "senior administration official" with a nearly obscene penchant for [REDACTED]. Oh, all right. For a certain condiment. Sorry, but I first heard this from [REDACTED]. Hitch concurred -- this was very weird. I also talked to Standard writer Matt Labash, who seemed pleased to hear he was a favorite of a few liberal journo-politicos I know. This may have partly influenced him to buy a round of drinks for those of us present. Then again, he was under the influence at the time. But hey, so were we all. And even though he wasn't present at that moment, so was Hitch. Especially Hitch. Other famous-for-DC folks in attendance were current and former Standardites Bill Kristol, Fred Barnes, Tucker Carlson, plus a few notables from this newsmagazine or that, not to mention the former deputy mayor of Washington. Unfortunately, I neither spilled drinks on them, nor did we engage in political debate. And that was probably all for the better, because my most impressive achievement of the night was knowing -- and it's a skill it took me too long to develop -- when enough was enough. My last great achievement of the evening was not falling asleep on the Metro system and waking up in Prince George's County, Maryland. No no, don't congratulate me. Saturday, June 19, 2004
A TALE OF TWO CITIES  It is no original observation to say there are two different Washingtons: the white, wealthier and more educated DC, and to use a common euphemism, the "urban" DC. But while I was out around town yesterday, I found announcements for two different annual events that illustrate these disparate worlds.
The first was a backlit advertisement on the platform at Farragut West downtown. It was on the other opposite platform, but it was advertising an upcoming event called:
The other was a 5x9 card next to the register at the 7-11 in the black-yet-gentrifying U Street neighborhood near my apartment. it was promoting the "2nd Annual Fathers Day Commemoration" for the ROOT Foundation, and the largest words on the card advertised the call for a:
One could live in Anacostia or Congress Heights and never learn, nor care about the former event. Likewise, one could live in Georgetown or Bethesda and never know about the latter, though guilt would at least be a reason to pause. U Street, for now, is a nice balance between the two -- yet I have scant interest in either beyond noting the contrast. But what the hell, I wish them both the best of luck. Thursday, June 17, 2004
WHAT'S FOUL IS FOUL  I don't know if you've seen the footage of the twenty- or thirty-something asshole who
To which I say: Hello! This is days after players in the game gave the kid their own baseball bats and amidst a baseball fan-done-wrong media frenzy we haven't seen since Steve Bartman. Does anybody think this asshole -- Matt Starr is his name -- is doing it out of the good of his own heart? One would think not. He's doing it because he can't go out in public without being treated as a pariah (as he should be). So why the rush to forgive? What's done is done. P.S. Too bad "Pardon The Interruption" is pre-empted for the rest of the week for the U.S. Open. Wilbon and Kornheiser would agree with me. P.P.S. Considering the media's appalling eagerness to let the guy off the hook this easy, maybe this is an example of liberal bias? Maybe. P.P.P.S. And what's a grown man doing running like a madman after a foul ball? As a sports fan I'll grant that Barry Bonds' historic 73rd home run ball (which was not without controversy, either) is worth looking like a fool over. But not this. P.P.P.P.S.Hell, Bartman comes out of this smelling like roses -- after all, he wasn't trying to be an asshole. P.P.P.P.P.S. Believe it or not, this not my first baseball-related post. P.P.P.P.P.P.S. One more P.S., for good measure. I think this might be a record. NOTE: Cross-posted to Armed Prophet. Wednesday, June 16, 2004
WATCHING MOVIES WITH RONNIE  The week of national mourning for Ronald Reagan is well behind us, but I can't resist one more related post. It turns out his presidential library has a list of all the movies he watched while on vacation at Camp David (which was pretty often, it seems). Looking through the list, I noticed a few things:
For one, Reagan watched a number of films that a) you would expect no president to see -- well, before Clinton, I mean, b) you would expect no seventy-year-old man to be interested in: "Return of the Jedi" and "War Games" (both June '83); "Ghostbusters" and "Last Starfighter" (both July '84); "The Gods Must be Crazy" (March '85); "Back to the Future" (July '85); 860111 Young Sherlock Holmes" (January '86); "Lucas" (April '86); "Top Gun" (May '86); "Short Circuit," "Karate Kid II" and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" (all June '86); "Crocodile Dundee" (December '86); "Raising Arizona" (Mar. '87); "Harry and the Hendersons" (May '87); "Princess Bride" (October '87); and "Throw Momma from the Train" (November '88). And the fourth-to-last film he watched there was "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" (July '87). Not bad, huh? Also, in September of '84 Reagan watched one film obviously made for teenagers, but which you certainly can imagine him watching: "Red Dawn." A couple times he either liked a movie so much he rewatched it, or possibly couldn't finish it and had to start over: "Witness" (June 22 and 23, '85) and "The Glenn Miller Story" (October 11 and November 1, '85). And It seems Reagan also liked to watch a few of his own old films: "Bedtime for Bonzo" (June '84); "Hellcats of the Navy" (September '85), also starring Nancy; "Knute Rockne, All American" (October '87). Lost to history is the film he watched on August 2nd, '88. It is listed only as "[Name of film not listed]." For shame! I would like to think it was something starring Chevy Chase. And with that, we return to our previously scheduled blogging. WE'RE NOT INVOKING GODWIN'S LAW YET, BUT...  A few weeks ago I excitedly noted that the new Rilo Kiley album will be out soon -- July 27th, I can now report. Also of note, it turns out a few harsh comments I made about the semi-co-lead singer earned me a few harsh comments from a LiveJournal user named "Charisma":
Before I found the post (thanks, Technorati!) somebody named "Herogrrl" had commented:
I hope you were just having a bad day or some such when you wrote that, and that you are usually a less hateful/insensitive person.
P.S. Biggie was eons better than P. Diddy ... oops! I guess I'm just being meanspirited again. P.S. You know what else I hate? Live Journal! Just look at those pages -- they're a mess of icons, avatars, smiley faces and extraneous lines. And when you want to post a comment, you can't identify yourself in a separate box unless you're a LiveJournal user. And if you are one, apparently you can't design your own page unless you're paying them. Or get your own e-mail. Meanwhile, non-paying Blogger got early dibs on Gmail accounts. P.P.S. In my first RK post, I lamented the band's habit of playing the closer, "Spectacular Views," as an acoustic song with Sennett singing. In the comments to that post is someone from rilokiley.net pointing out those tracks came from a few acoustic-only shows they played. Well, that's partial relief. I still say he should cede all vocal duties to Jenny Lewis post haste. UPDATE: Well, that was short-lived. "Charisma has already replied thusly:
Meantion all the dead people you wanna- let's bring Hendrix into this if you've a mind to, speaking of dead guitar players. That'd just be silly though. Derivitive is a nicer term to state your opinion with, incidentally. Sunday, June 13, 2004
WAITING FOR REAGAN  On Thursday afternoon I decided to take up my place in line on the Mall outside the U.S. Capitol and wait (and wait and wait and wait) for as long as I had to until it was my turn to file past Ronald Reagan inside the Capitol rotunda.
Fearing ten-hour lines, I had planned to bring a book with me. Hearing just before I left that lines were closer to four or five hours, I decided to bring along the latest Atlantic Monthly, each issue of which basically is a book, and the latest issue of the Oregon Commentator, each issue diligently mailed to yours truly by the current editors. I didn't know which Metro stop was closest to the start of the line, so I guessed and hopped off at Capitol South. Bad choice. As it was I had to walk at least ten blocks, thanks in part to the obnoxious but necessary barriers obstructing access to the east end of the Mall, but also to the fact that Capitol South was nowhere near the line. (Smithsonian would have been much better.) Also notable, the reader boards inside the Metro scrolled a message that began: "In Remembrance" and (paraphrased) went: "In honor former President Ronald Reagan, the Metrorail will close at the regular time of midnight tonight," followed by info on the late-night Metrobus running between the Capitol and someplace in DC nowhere near me. So, in remembrance of the former president, the Metro will close at the normal time? How generous! On the Mall it was not obvious where you had to go to get in line. Oh, the line itself was easy enough to see, but twice as I was approaching it I was stopped by Mall police and told I was heading in the wrong direction. Eventually I saw the entrance: five officers standing next to a handwritten "Enter" sign. So I got in line. And waited. And waited. The organization here was much better, but obvious. Still a couple hundred yards from the Capitol itself, metal barricades directed the line back and forth for fifty yards (at least) in columns or rows five deep. I looked ahead five "lines" ahead. Lucky bastards. Lucky bastards who had been there for hours ahead of me, though. After that fifth column (no pun intended, not that it would make any sense anyway) the line broke away past the reflecting pool (not the long one by the Lincoln Memorial, thankfully) and through the tree-lined area leading up to the Capitol itself. Far off in the distance, I could see people way up on the Capitol steps, minutes from getting in. I tried to put them out of my mind. Despite being dressed in a long-sleeve collared shirt and slacks, it wasn't all that hot, I thought -- but soon enough, the line took me out of the shade and into the sun's glare. Weather forecasts had predicted T-storms for the day, so a lot of people had brought umbrellas. Now those umbrellas were being used for shelter from the sun. Old men (excuse me, members of the Greatest Generation) sat on fold out chairs. Tank tops were rolled up to reveal (mostly pleasant) midsections. Good thing the Red Cross was there to hand out Wal-Mart brand water, "Sam's Choice," that was also ubiquitous at the WWII dedication a couple weeks past. (The label boasts of the water's being "enhanced by adding essential minerals for an even more satisfying and refreshing pure taste." Yeah, right. (The copy is exact because the bottle I got two weeks ago is still sitting in my refidgerator. It's that good.)) My first bottle was cold, but subsequent bottles hadn't the benefit of sitting in a bucket of ice. I don't see why not. They'd had the foresight to buy what looked like acres of water, but not acres of buckets and ice to cool them. Seriously, I've never seen more bottled water in one place. Wal-Mart surely made a killing. How very American; Reagan would have approved. And of course this was all about Reagan, the leader of the free world who changed both his country and the world and also loved jellybeans (licorice especially). Further up along the line handmade tributes to the former president had been placed here and there -- snippets of his speeches, brush-painted thanks to the man for his accomplishments, flowers and more flowers and yet more flowers. Outside the line a woman was taking pictures, and somebody asked if she was from the media. Actually, she said, she was Ronald Reagan's nurse at George Washington University hospital in 1981 after that jerk shot Reagan. The pictures were just for her scrapbook.  Departing from the snaking rows and approaching the tree-lined area, security demanded, one by one, that we reveal our cell phones. Mine had a camera, and so I had to check it in. I deposited it into a brown paper bag, filled out a little form (that amusingly enough asked for our phone numbers) and hoped it would meet me on the way out.
In all I spent over four hours in line. Which means I could probably rattle off an endless string of anecdotes about the scene. But I'll save you; this is longer than I intended as it is. Eventually, after explaining to a group of tourists that the statue atop the Capitol dome is a Roman guard (what am I, a tour guide?) and offering a few more factoids about the place (sans pedestal the Statue of Liberty could fit inside the Rotunda, FYI) I got inside. Just before entering, I looked back down the hill at the line and thought: suckers. Once in the building, (non-Roman) guards asked that we doff our hats and file into two separate lines, right and left. Without thinking, I moved to the left -- Reagan would not have approved -- and walked up the stairs into the Rotunda. But as it was, the two lines made two passes past the casket, which meant for most of the first pass I went past the man moving left to right. Ronald Reagan most definitely would have approved of that. Also, there was a section for the press, and it included at least a dozen press photographers. So what did they want my cell phone for? A sign saying "no photos" would have sufficed. This was, as I mentioned, a very solemn occasion. Surely even the tank top-clad tourists would have behaved. And the moment itself was unique. Appropriately solemn and almost silent, this was altogether different than the time I first visited a tourist-overrun Rotunda last September. On my way out the door I made several "last" glances at the casket, until finally making a final last glance and walking out. It didn't look any different than it did (for hours, endless hours) on C-SPAN, but I was glad I'd done it. On the way out I went back to reading Mark Bowden's endless article about Al Sharpton (and his treachery) in the Atlantic. I followed the girls in front of me through a lobby, down some stairs, around a corner, past Orrin Hatch and his entourage and eventually ... into the basement? Here I was by the private Capitol subways, where a line of staffers waiting to get in stretched off into the distance in the large hallway. Obviously I had taken a wrong turn. The girls, I realized quite quickly, were Hill staffers. I should have paid more attention. My first thought was: I'm dressed exactly like a staffer! This is my chance to ride the Hill's secret subway! I'll ride it to the Hart/Dirksen and take the non-secret subway back home! My second thought was: I want my phone back. So I went up to an officer and asked the way out. Rather than being given directions, I was told to wait for an escort. Another officer arrived, and led me toward the exit. I asked how long the staffers had to wait in line. He asked: How long did you wait? About four hours. He replied: "They're waiting about two." (This had been reported on Wonkette at the time, but I didn't see it until today. I read that often.) I exited the building on the under-construction East face and headed in the direction he told me would take me down to the proper exit. But within a minute I was stopped by yet another Mall policeman, who told me this was an off-limits area. Which way did I have to go? Way back in the opposite direction, around the barriers and down Constitution. Only then could I cross back and get to the approved exit. This was at least four times the distance. Here I'd already spent five hours from leaving my front door to exiting the Capitol.  But I had no choice, so that I did, and retrieved my contraband picture-taking phone. While there I took a few moments to sign one of a dozen (filled) condolence books. What do you say to a deceased man of "the ages," in a few lines of a book that no one will read? Addressing my comments to the man himself, I told him he was the first president of my childhood, that I didn't know much about him then but had learned a lot in subsequent years, and that I was thankful for all that he did. And that I hoped there were licorice jellybeans in heaven.
From there, I picked up one final bottle of overrated water and walked up Pennsylvania to the Archives-Navy Memorial metro stop, and hopped the regular subway home. UH HUH! You've gotta love this idea for what to do with Georgia's perennially controversial state flag. (Via Postrel.) WOW You never know what a little clicking around at IMDB will turn up. For example, did you know that there is a fifth Beethoven (the dog) movie? Fifth! It stars Dave Thomas from Strange Brew, Faith Ford from Murphy Brown, Kathy Griffin from Suddenly Susan and John Laroquette, who needs no introduction. Charles Grodin hasn't been in the last three films. The two before it starred Judge Reinhold and Julia Sweeney. Needless to say, they've all been straight to video. The user comments begin, "Good, but the original is best…" yet it only rates a 1.7 out of 10 stars. But worst of all, fallen teen comedy king John Hughes shares writing credits. Ouch. Despite all the luminaries mentioned above, I wasn't looking at any one of them when I stumbled across this movie. How did I find it? Easy: Clint Howard is in it. Saturday, June 12, 2004
HE SURE IS FAT
This does not mean I read Garfield, ever. Nor do I read comic strips at all anymore. (Name a strip going today that can rub shoulders with The Far Side, and maybe I would.) I read Garfield as a kid. A lot. I remember borrowing my grandparents' books of Garfield comics and laughing (okay, chuckling) at Garfield's hatred for Mondays, love of lasagna and, of course, rotundity. But it's been the same thing every day for decades, and I've had better things to do for almost a decade now. That unobjectionable blandness may keep it in business, but it's a very large part of why I haven't read the comics page in years. Despite the vocal presence of Bill Murray, and in part due to Roger Ebert's endorsement (Phooeyhoo is right), I have no plans to see the movie version. But good for Jim Davis, I guess. P.S. Speaking of that J.D. Salinger wannabe who used to draw a great cartoon strip with characters named after an uptight Protestant theorist and a hard-nosed philosopher, this investigative attempt at a profile of Bill Watterson from last year is very interesting. P.P.S. And while I'm busy linking to Wikipedia entries, it's telling that the article on Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes is longer than the entries on John Calvin and Thomas Hobbes combined. Friday, June 11, 2004
Thursday, June 10, 2004
SIE HABEN SPAM! Are you getting German-language spam this week? Me too. Can't read it? Me neither. And from what I found in the news reports, we're not missing anything. Wednesday, June 09, 2004
REAGAN HAS ARRIVED  It's late and I'm a bit sloshed, but I should say that I did indeed take my place along the barricades lining Constitution Avenue to see the motorcade bringing Ronald Reagan into Washington for the last time.
I would have got a better view had I not stopped first to visit the Lincoln Memorial (for the first time in a few years) and thoroughly explore the WWII Memorial (for the first time -- it's pretty good). I made my way over to Constitution between 15th and 17th with about an to hour ago, and managed to negotiate an almost decent viewpoint. I had a great view of the motorcade coming in, but when it parked and the casket was transferred to the horse-drawn carriage I lost visual contact with the start of the funeral procession. Walking down the sidewalk in that direction didn't help; the crowd was such that I couldn't move up to get a better picture. But I took a number of pictures, several of which may show up here if I can get them scanned. I should say that although I did not tear up (whereas I did a bit watching the Rotunda funeral ceremony later on, during the Air Force choir rendition of a song I don't usually care much for, "America the Beautiful") the approach of the motorcade and the presence of his body inside that flag-draped coffin was very affecting. As I saw the lights from the first few cars approach on Constitution, I put my hand to my mouth in a manner I usually associate with awe-struck tourists. It was a unique moment. There's more to report on it all, but I'm incapable of doing it now. Perhaps I'll elaborate in another post. But the fact of it is, if I'm going to see his casket in the Capitol Rotunda before it leaves for good on Friday morning, I'll have to cut out all other plans tomorrow afternoon (including a fateful softball game against our cross-town rivals) to wait out the 10+ hours it will take to get inside. A co-worker of mine -- interestingly, the leftest-leaning of several leftists I work with -- has been in line since 8:00 p.m. and doesn't think he'll make it past Mr. Reagan until at least 1:00 a.m. tonight. But this is history. I'm glad he's there. I hope to be as well. (Yes, this is also on AP.) TAKE-OFFS AND LANDINGS All around me the District is closing down and will remain on high security through at least Friday afternoon. With Margaret Thatcher, Mikhail Gorbachev and leaders from virtually every country we maintain diplomatic ties with coming into town this week, they're saying it's potentially the largest gathering of world leaders in any one place, ever. Which of course makes it a terrorist target so enormous the word "enormous" fails to reflect the danger. This means the city is on lockdown. Streets and bridges are closing and my vehicular-bound colleagues are all fretting about the hours-long commute they may face on the way home. Ronald Reagan himself arrives at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland in about an hour and a half. One hour after that he'll be taken through town on a riderless carriage to the Capitol Building. So I'm off to go see if I can catch a glimpse of the procession down along Constitution Ave. Tuesday, June 08, 2004
SOMEBODY STOP THIS MAN  No, not the man at left. I mean New York City Mayor Mike Bloomberg, who lost all credibility in my eyes with his idiotic citywide smoking ban a few years back, but now seems to have gone absolutely out of his mind. According to the New York Post, if he has his way, Bloomberg will require both puppy dogs and ice cream trucks to be similarly muzzled for most all hours of the day. No barking, no jingle-ing. Shhh! Careful! Mayor Mike might hear you sneeze. This man (Bloomberg) is completely out of control. Before you know he'll make it illegal for this guy -- the one in the upper left-hand corner -- to make like a human statue on the southwest corner of Central Park.REAGAN'S RETURN When the federal government in this town, aka "official Washington," shuts down, so does a wide swath of "unofficial Washington." That includes me. Friday is Ronald Reagan's state funeral at National Cathedral, and I get the day off. This means I will be able to walk on down to see the procession go by. And for what it's worth, I'll write about what I see when I do. In a matter of hours Reagan will be arriving at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland, and around 6:00 p.m. tomorrow it will be taken into Washington, DC, to the Capitol Building. This will involve a riderless horse-drawn carriage through downtown and F-15s flying overhead, which promises to be even more dramatic than the combustion engine trip over to Georgetown on Friday. His casket will be available for viewing in the Capitol Rotunda 24 hours a day until Friday morning, and you can be sure I'll show up for both the Wednesday procession and, presumably at a morbidly late hour, the display on Capitol Hill. By the way, Armed Prophet seems to be a lot busier so far this week, but this is all at my personal whims. More here soon. Saturday, June 05, 2004
1911-2004 The television news says his body will be flown to Washington where he will lie in state at the Capitol before being taken along a procession up to the National Cathedral for a state funeral, before being taken back to California for a sunset burial outside his presidential library in Simi Valley. Unless it happens during my morning work hours, I'll be there to watch it, and I'll be sure to blog it later. I was in Washington on a brief trip when Katherine Graham died a few years ago, and with a friend I drove past her mansion in Georgetown. That was something else; the media tents crowded her backyard such that one couldn't even see the house from the street. As publisher of the Washington Post she wasn't on the level with a president, but she did have them all over to dinner at one time or another. I expect a similar media mania when he arrives this week. And justly so. Developing... TIANANMEN PLUS FIFTEEN Tuesday, June 01, 2004
I HATE BOB LEVEY There's an ad on the side of the buses here that annoys me to a degree far out of proportion with reality. On the side of some buses is a folksy-looking picture of recently retired (and putatively beloved) former Washington Post columnist Bob Levey. The ad identifies him as a decades-long Metro rider and has him saying:
All right, better now. |
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