It’s hard to believe so much time has gone by; it’s been a little shy of three years since I wrote my first post here and kicked off what would be a lot of posts and pictures about funny Virginia license plates. At the time I was a little reluctant to sign up and participate, not actually being a blogger on my own. Writing about myself seemed to self-indulgent, and who would care? Writing for Metblogs, however, provided a structure and a reason for writing and I’ve loved it. It’s been a way to meet new people and a motivation to try new things and, perhaps most importantly, an impetus to really examine my involvement and my feelings about the things I do and see.

I credit Metblogs for helping me love this city even more,  in a dozen ways. New people, new friends, new places, new experiences, new opportunities. Like the best jobs, this one kept me on my toes and pushed me to develop new skills… sometimes under fire, sometimes by putting me next to people who knew things I didn’t, sometimes by forcing me to teach and thereby learn my subject matter even better.

That said, surely you know a eulogy when you hear it. Well, a resignation letter anyway - I’m not dying unless someone aims badly with a bottle rocket tonight. Maybe this is more an overly wordy break-up speech. It’s not you, Metblogs, it’s me.

It’s come to be time for me to move on to a different place - electronically anyway - and a different sort of writing. I’m still interested in life here in DC and I’ll be writing about it over at We Love DC, where some things will be new but others will surely stay the same. Anyone interested in a betting pool on how long before I post a picture of some interesting license plates… well, I wouldn’t go too far into double-digits if I were you.

Thanks for reading, I home you come visit me over at the new digs. Have a happy Fourth of July.

photo courtesy of Zaid Al Balushi

When my parents were here in March we happened to head a little farther west than we normally do, and ended up having a late lunch in Manassas. When we parked there it was hard not to notice the particularly large sign across the street and wonder what its story was. It was notable enough that I took a picture.

So when I saw this story on the front page of the WashingtonPost.com I was curious to read the story behind it. It’s an interesting one - based on the message above I’d wondered if this wasn’t a religious organization, with their message of love and empathy. “The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people.” The sign has changed notably since March 9th - the WaPo story has a small shot of the presumably current sign, though it’s small and they provide no transcription.

Unfortunately WaPo writer Nick Miroff decided to do a little editorializing in the WaPo story, which summarizes the sign’s content thusly:

The sign’s text has changed a few times, but its message has essentially remained the same: Latino immigrants have been exploited by ungrateful, racist white residents who took advantage of their labor and now want them to leave.

Anyone see any assertions of racism or ingratitude in the sign above?  This is why you should report facts and not interpret them, Mr Miroff.

Transcriptions of old and new sign after the jump. Read more

I actually took this picture a few weeks ago when out in Chantilly to have dinner with a friend, but the Washington Post got around to writing about the pro-life pharmacy before I did. [and let me assure you, we were at a nice little Indian place a few doors over, not at any of the crap chain restaurants mentioned in the above story]

I don’t know that I have a lot to say about the matter, other than it being somewhat interesting that this kind of thing crops up wayyyyyy out in the burbs rather than in the city. I wonder who their market is, or what their necessary purpose might be. After all, if you don’t approve of Plan B, you’re just as able to not get a prescription for it filled at CVS as you are at DMC Pharmacy. Is it that important to be able to fill your prescription for penicillin somewhere that there’s no condoms on the rack, tempting you?

Perhaps it’ll all a way to get a job for a friend or family member who is a pharmacist who finds himself unemployable at the majors because he won’t dispense birth control pills. Beyond that I’m hard pressed to understand the need for this business - when you open an alternative to Outback you don’t serve everything BUT meat, you have an entirely different set of offerings. What’s DMC Pharmacy going to bring to the table other than… what it doesn’t put out on the table?

A Pepco substation serving a good portion of DC’s downtown business district failed at 7:30 this morning, leaving 10,000 businesses in the downtown area without power, and Metrorail stations McPherson Square (Orange/Blue), Farragut West (Orange/Blue), Farragut North (Red) and Dupont Circle (Red) without power. In addition to the outages, there’s been a fire reported by WMATA at Metro Center, and another reported by WAMU, WTOP and multiple twitters at Dupont Circle Station this morning as well.

DC Dept. of Transportation says that more than 30 traffic signals in the downtown core are also out, and has requested that people please treat them as four ways stops. I know there were more than a few people on my drive up 15th street who failed to treat them as such. Of course, when traffic’s flowing, it’s hard to treat them that way, I get it, but still.

Be aware, commuting today probably sucked ass, so please be nicer to your coworkers who looked like they slogged through a marsh of fire in order to come to work.

[Update, 9:56] Dupont Circle Metro is now closed due to the power outage. Apparently a lot of people were having trouble exiting the station on the long escalator climb to the surface.

Hopefully you haven’t all washed away in the heavy weather. I saw Tom twitter that he could hear hail but I didn’t hear anything other than a hard rain at my house. It came and went here even quicker than the sudden downpour that showed up Saturday night mere moments before we walked out of the stadium. I’m happy to say we managed to stay under cover both times, though I did brave last night’s initial sprinkles in order to do some grilling.

That’s assuming that ‘you’ are a Marylander - or sometimes drink in Maryland - and like those fruity near-beers. No, when the WaPo ran this annoying editorial last week they called them ‘alcopops,’ which is evocative of popsicle to me, but presumably they mean it in the sense of ’soda pop.’ “But the truth is that the beverages — Smirnoff Ice, Mike’s Hard Lemonade and the like — are not beer by any reasonable definition,” said the editorial.

Unfortunately they don’t explain exactly what “by any reasonable definition” means. I’ve always known them to be called “near-beer,” a description that hinges on the fact that these products are sold in single-serving containers like beer and have similar alcohol content to regular beer, and are malted beverages, like - wait for it - beer. When Marc Fisher picked up the banner for this anti-adult effort yesterday he claimed that Attorney General Doug Gansler based his decision on a federal study claiming most of the alcohol in these drinks came from distilled spirits, not malted grain. Too bad that’s a 2003 study and in late 2004 the ATTB published a ruling that going forward these drinks would get the majority of their alcohol content from malting. Not to call any of these lobbying groups or editorialists liars - that would imply they’re making these statements out of malice and with full knowledge it’s not true, rather than just ignorance,willful or otherwise.

That aside, most importantly to almost any rational person, the same report makes it clear that the total alcohol content is roughly the same as in beer: 4 to 6%. Unless we’re regulating beer and hard liquor differently for some other reason that nobody’s told me? If it’s all about taste, then I propose we put in place a proper taste tax and bring Guinness and Sam Adams’ Summer Wheat down to 0.01% and mark Coors and Zima up to 150%. Or maybe 1500%, though drinking them is really its own punishment.

Barring that, WaPo and Fisher would both do well to back off from trying to beat up adults who like this swill near-beer and stop penalizing them for having similar tastebuds to the pimple-faced crowd. The morals brigade leading this fight likes to harp on the fact that the alcohol industry’s own data shows that over 40% of the stuff is drunk by the 21 to 27 crowd, the implication being that under 21 folk will like it too. However they seem to be ignoring the fact that those 21 to 27 year olds are of a perfectly legal age to drink and probably lower earners, therefor similarly impacted by this foolish tax proposal.

Fisher and others don’t seem to think that you voting-aged legal drinkers matter in this. “Will the lovers of Smirnoff Ice and its competitors rally to the governor’s side to thank him for keeping their favorite beverages cheap? Hardly likely.” So prove him wrong and make some noise. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be marginally embarrassed to publicly admit you drink this crap, but myself and other people who believe in freedom will stand behind you. With our better drinks.

Hard Times, courtesy of furryscaly

It was pretty hard to miss all the bikers in town for this past weekend’s Rolling Thunder. We saw a whole bunch through Arlington on Friday and Saturday night, most likely missing Whitey’s that’s been gone a few years from its Washington Boulevard home.

The curb in front of Mexicali Blues was a lineup of some of the most beautifully cared for Harleys and BMWs and Hondas that I’d seen since I moved east from California. Shined up to a mirror finish on their chrome, and with a high gloss coat of wax on their beautiful hulls. The parking lot in front of my in-laws hotel was cram-packed full of bikes as well, parked three and four deep in the parking spaces.

I’ll admit to not understanding the loud factor of bikes, but I know they’re for a good cause this weekend, so roar it up, bikers!

rolling thunder 4 — Originally uploaded by schmiddi

My plan was simple. Sacrifice a vacation for a staycation. While almost everyone else went off to a beach house for some R-n-R, I would remain dutifully at home, slavishly sketching to get a headstart on design deadlines. At least, that was the plan.

Thanks to a crippling mental block that led to hours of staring at blank vellum and obsessively sharpening pencils (yes, I need to get Illustrator), the plan failed. However, once I accepted my fate and gave in, my staycation became enjoyable and allowed me to reconnect with life in the city.

A few high points:

Two blissful hours at the National Capital YMCA. Something so relaxing about turning off your brain and focusing on the body. Working hard and then channeling your inner Viking in the sauna. Heaven.

Brunch at The Heights. The glory of the poached egg, the decadence of building your own Bloody Mary, all at a civilized pace on a sunny day. Walking around Columbia Heights was struck by how beautiful the mature trees are that line Kenyon Street, how many “For Sale” signs are out, how radically different the streetlife is from years before.

Grilling in Adams Morgan. A friend’s tranquil backyard, a wood-burning grill, lamb, bottles of red wine followed by homemade limoncello. A perfect evening, topped with smores.

Low point (well, nothing is perfect):

Drinks at Vinoteca. Hot, crowded, loud. I wish they would just give in to the actual wine BAR concept, busting out the bar pennisula to the main dining room and open up the entire space for drinks. Having everyone crammed into the narrow front space is just not appealing. Oh, and adding flamenco in the tiny front alcove, further cramping everyone in the bar while the dining room remained empty and open, not to mention no sight lines at all - pricelessly bad idea. Why not use the upstairs lounge? Mystified.

Get ready folks. One of my favorite local bands, The Jones, is headlining at The Rock & Roll Hotel this Friday. Self described as “a kind of bluesy rock and roll”, this solid trio has a unique throwback sound and raw musical talent that is hard to come by nowadays. Think Stones. Think Hendrix. Think The Black Keys. Think The Jones.

I can’t think of a better way to kick off your holiday weekend than with a killer show at one of DC’s best music venues. There’s nothing like seeing local bands before they hit the big leagues, as these guys are sure to do.

The Jones
The Known Unknowns
In Technicolor
No Compromise

Friday, May 23RD @ The Rock & Roll Hotel
1353 H ST NE

Doors @ 8, Show @ 9, $10 cover

What can I tell you about The Shakespeare Theater Company’s productions of Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra? You don’t come here for Shakespeare criticism and I’m not up to the challenge. There’s some things to say about the players on stage - Suzanne Bertish is spot-on, Andrew Long, Aubrey K. Deeker, Dan Kremer and all the other locals are good as well - but so what? We know STC isn’t going to put any stinkers up on stage and truth be told, if you’re inclined to go see either of these plays you’re probably not going to see any one person. These are not the avenues to catch a tour de force blow-the-doors-off piece of acting - the roles don’t lend themselves to it and they’re both huge ensembles - I stopped counting during the Julius Caesar curtain call when I got to the thirtieth performer.

So then, what can I tell you? Odds are good you read one or both of these in your high school careers, and they haven’t changed. Nor has STC altered their placement in time or location: these are the Roman plays as they were written; no movement to World War I or modern day New York City. Both have the same problem for us as modern audiences as they did for us then - it’s hard to find someone to root for in Julius Caesar, as full of connivers and killers as it is, or Antony and Cleopatra, with person after person making foolish and impulsive decisions.

You either are or are not the kind of person interested in seeing one of these plays, so what I say won’t sway you on the merits of the text. What I can tell you is that if you’re inclined to go, you’re going to be satisfied. If you’re not inclined, there’s not going to be something new or unusual there to overcome your reluctance. Somewhere in the world someone is going to stage Julius Caesar in a way to draw the parallel to American preemptive Middle-Eastern intervention, with Brutus and most of his cohorts being prodded into making a well-meaning decision by an arrogant and petty Cassius who’s been spending too much time on the New American Century website. Once they go down that bloody road they’ll discover that the aftermath isn’t as easy and painless as they expected and not everyone is convinced that their reasons were sound or sufficient.

This is not that production of Julius Caesar.

Neither is this Antony and Cleopatra evocative of a modern married government leader who thinks with parts south of the border and makes decisions that endanger his position to the point where he finds himself at odds with his peers and fighting to hold on to his power.

What these are, instead, are faithful classic productions set in the Harman’s lovely spaces with fairly minimal but highly effective staging. Caesar goes little beyond tapestries and hangings, where Antony and Cleopatra add some tables and pieces that more evoke a ship than represent it. The costuming is stunning and the music near perfect. There’s only two quibbles I’d make, both with the production of Julius Caesar, but they’re minor.

The boxes at the back of the Harman’s stage are a nice location for semi-hidden participants like percussionist Martin Desjardins normally, but during parts where performers are on the upper level he’s a little too prominent. If you’re not an actor I don’t feel like I should be able to discern your facial expressions during the production - it’s distracting. More bothersome but come and gone more rapidly is the bit of foolishness that someone felt they needed to pop into the scene where Brutus and Cassius face off across the battlefield from Octavius and Antony. While Antony is supposed to be a bit cavalier and light-hearted, it’s jarring to see him good around while eating and apple while Brutus and Cassius determine if they’re going to enter into a bloody battle. Having him wordlessly and goofilly offer the man who they’ve just determined to fight a bite before walking back to his own camp is just grating, particularly so short a time after we’ve seen him deliver an impassioned speech about his friend who was murdered by the very person he’s trying to share his snack with.

These are little things, however, and won’t ruin your experience if it’s one you want to have.

Julius Caesar and Antony and Cleopatra
Sidney Harman Hall 610 F Street NW, Washington, DC 20004
through July 6th, 2008.