Every so often there is commotion about building a new MLK library in downtown DC. The current library is a mess, not so much for its design, which is actually pretty open and nice, but due to the complete lack of maintenance or simple TLC given to it since, oh 1975. Inside, the carpets are worn, the books missing or torn, and the staff sad and wanting.

It doesn’t have to be this way. There are a slew of developers who are dying to trade a brand new library for the prime block that the current library occupies. They’ll build a new library as part of an overall block re-design that will add office space around the library. I think this is a great way for DC to upgrade its library at little or no cost to the city.

Still, I actually question the need for a library to begin with. Now before I have a mob torching me in effigy, I have a very simple question to ask

On my way to school to take my “History of American Spying” final exam, I decided to grab a quick burrito at Chipotle in Old Town. So there I was walking down the sidewalk at a quick clip, trying to keep the CIA’s early Soviet infiltration operations straight in my head, when I round the corner and slam into this short guy.

For a split second I think, “Damn this guy’s a brick-wall”, then I look and realize that I have bumped into none other than Chuck Norris! Mr. Walker Texas Ranger himself! Stunned I eeked out a meager “oh excuse me.” He replied “no problem” and we kept on walking.

As I wolfed down my burrito a few minutes later, I thought back to that Chuck Norris movie “Good Guys Wear Black” and remembered what a shitty movie it was. Here is Chuck Norris in the 1970’s trying to be all cutting edge by making a movie about the big old crooked CIA, right in the midsts of the Church Commission inquiries, Helm’s perjury, and Carter’s antagonism toward Covert Action.

In “Good Guys…” Chuck was a former member of Operation Phoenix – a CIA assassination program designed to weed out VC leaders in South Vietnam. He ends up back stateside wearing black-turtlenecks, breaking necks and doing flying death-kicks through car windshields.

What does all this have to do with the DC area? Well nothing other than I bumped into Chuck Norris here. But I did find it funny that my random encounter and his bad movie gave me a nice little review for my Spying exam.

PS- If anyone is curious the three CIA infiltration programs were:

REDSOX: Sending recent Russian emigres back into the USSR through clandestine night-drops.
REDSKIN: Turning American tourists going to the USSR into spies.
REDCAP: Encouraging Soviet officials to defect while they are abroad.

The folks in LA know a thing or two about traffic, that’s for sure, but only in DC would we build a road that would be so crammed full of cars and traffic that it would back up nearly almost all the way around the city when the drawbridge goes up. Hell, I’ve been forced to invent profanity just to adequately express my rage when some douchebag in an urban assault vehicle decided he needed to merge into my lane on top of me. But of course, that’s the best part of the whole process here in DC, leaning on the horn, swearing like a tranny longshoreman, and flipping the bird. What’s your favorite remedy in these situations?

When Macy’s bought Hecht’s a while back, there were a lot of questions in the air. Will they close stores? Will Macy’s take over the world? Will Hecht’s become Macy’s? Does it really matter what they call it? Are department stores even relevant in this age of Amazon.com?

Well, the answer to two of those questions is now public.

The Wheaton Hecht’s will close for good.

And Hecht’s will now be Macy’s.

Now, please, go on about not caring about department stores, we realize this was keeping you up nights.

That’s how badly the Nats are playing right now. They’ve lost 8 1/2 games in the standings since they lead the division at the All-Star Break. We just got swept by the Atlanta Braves, and we’re headed to Florida to face the Marlins, who have beaten us like rented mules this season. All of this has Chris Needham forming the Bridge Jumpers Club, and several other DC Baseball Bloggers on the verge of joining up.

The only good news? We’re still in the wild card hunt…

My office is at the corner of 15th and I Streets NW, which makes it just about smack in the middle of the McPherson Square Metro Station. The Vermont Avenue exit is one block to the west, the 14th Street exit one block to the east.

My question to you: Which exit should I use?

Logic says it doesn’t matter which one. They are both equal distant and as I’m catching a train, neither will give me any physical advantage in departure or arrival time. Yet still I find myself going to the station in the direction of travel. Vermont Avenue if I’m heading to NoVA or 14th Street if I’m headed to Capitol Hill.

Does it matter?

Now I enjoy reading the paper as much as the next guy. Wait, maybe even more as I like to read the Washington Post cover to cover every day, and if I could convince my boss that flex time works, I’d read the NY Times and the Wall Street Journal too. Too bad I don

I came home from the grocery last night before all hell broke loose, parking my car out of the way of the gigantic tree that always seems to lose part of itself during heavy storms. The sky was still but a light grey, but the smell of rain was faintly present in the thick-as-molasses air. I let them cat out briefly, knowing he would come scampering back toward the door as the first heavy drops fell from the overburdened clouds.

I love that moment just before a storm rolls in, pregnant with possibility for disaster and destruction, that tense moment before all hell lets loose, electrical potential in the air like the smell of a grilled steak. The wind comes up suddenly, taking the atmosphere from calm and uncomfortable to harried and a bit cooler. Then comes the low rumble of the distant thunder, at first you hear it softly, then as it grows close, the noise is insistent, loud and subsonic at times. Then comes the rain, large drops falling first, thwacking against the glass in my windows as I sit on the couch.

The cats sit and play in the window while the patter of the drops against the panes grows more frequent, sounding like children playing with a telegraph. I look out at the storm, peering through venetian blinds, to see the layered ripples on the puddle that always forms in front of my stoop where the drain comes down from the upstairs apartments.

When the rain finishes, and I let Guinness out again, the sky has that yellow/orange tone that seems so magical after a storm. I consider bringing out my camera to capture it, but I know that some images just can’t be captured by CCD, and step out in the much cooler air. The plants seem to have gotten more green in the storm, as the Queen Anne’s Lace has perked up a bit after the rain. It must be fifteen degrees cooler now than it was at the start of the storm, some 45 minutes before.

Ahhh, how I love a good thunderstorm in the summer.

Slut is such a great word. At the same time a punch-in-the-mouth insult or a co-opted cutesy self-descriptor.

This Friday, if Wayan’s options don’t get you all warm and tingly, you could go to Saccharine at the Zucchabar. A bi-monthly event run by my friends at Medusa Promotions.

This Friday the gang are hosting a special “Slut” version of their usual night. The emphasis is on skin, sexy tunes and “naughty” visuals. Since we usually transform the Zucchabar basement into a den of iniquity on a normal Friday I can’t wait to see what goes down at this event.

There is an open bar from 9-10. Free admission before 9:30 if you sign their mailing list. And free admission all-night long if you show-up wearing an article of clothing that has Slut sewn into it.

So come on out and embrace your inner Slut.

(PS- If they don’t spin “Sex Dwarf” by Soft Cell at this it will be a crime!)

We here at dc.metblog are dedicated to give you, our loyal readers advice on all things DC. My speciality happens to be ways to get toasted. In that role, here’s an advance look at you’re Friday night options with time saving commentary:

For the cheap-o: DC Independence Division End of the season Party

The boys of summer are headed out to the beach, leaving their kickballs on the mall, and management squabbles for the fall, so here’s your last change to talk 2005 season smack and flip cup even grandma.

DC Independence Division End of the season Party

Irish Times, Open bar from 8-11, $5 League members, $20 Guests

For the lonely: Four Minute Dating You’ve Got Mail Singles Party

Professionals in the City has a Four Minute Dating You’ve Got Mail Singles Party at Clarendon Ballroom. And like other events, while they promise to introduce you to 15 members of the opposite sex during an hours worth of four minute dating, they screw it all up with a very passive “twist” at the end. You’ll get to write four “notes” to hotties you like, which will be mailed to their intended recipients. Mailed?! As in the United States Post Office?! Y’all ever hear of email or cell phones?

Four Minute Dating You’ve Got Mail Singles Party
$20 if you register by 5pm, Clarendon Ballroom, 6:30 PM – 9:00 PM

For the bling bling: H20 Friday: Pink Effect – Champagne toast for ladies in pink

Apparently, H2O is now “Dc’s Premier restaurant and lounge” and can set the scene for the start of your weekend, since if the inside gets too hot for you, mingle, dance and sweat under the moonlight on their outdoor patio. Me, I’ll be there for the Open Bar till 11pm and the Pink Effect Party in the white room, where champagne and strawberry toasts go for ladies in pink. Oh and as an added bonus, Peruvian Independence celebrations are in the Latin room.

The Late Night Happy Hour @ H20
Free Entry: Guest list or No Line No Cover Passes (till 12pm)
Every Friday, Open Bar till 11