gettin' hobo with it

With all this government shutdown sh*t hitting the khaki-colored fan, I've come to a bit of a bizarre revelation -- I don't really know very many people who work for the Feds. In fact, I think I know only one, maybe two of you douches (I say that with love). And while I think that's because I have no friends hang almost exclusively with a menagerie of imaginary helper animals and, um, lawyers (embarrassing, I know), I think this is a sure sign that I should probably get out more. At the very least I should probably get to know the side of Washington, DC, I so love to mock.

So, in an attempt to broaden my horizons, I want to invite all of you Federal furloughers to come experience my world, or at least the part of my world that involves day-time drinking, a worthwhile past-time I engage in every Monday, all Monday. And while I'd offer to buy, I think actually you guys should, considering you're the ones eligible for the sweet discounts.

So, in conclusion, this is what I'm offering: You, federal employee, may purchase me, your awesome e-friend (and probably a helper animal or two), several libations during the afternoon of Monday, April 11, 2011. In exchange, I can offer FUN FUN FUN FUN!

i told you i have a master's in international relations...

After mind-smacking into order the NYTimes Sunday crossword puzzle this weekend, I got around to reading this, that article in the magazine about those two DC famewhores (takes one to know one) who get paid by the State Department to Twitter stupid sh*t for a living.

Yes, I'm talking about Jared Cohen and Alec Ross, the federal douches who've developed online Twitter followings that only two other government officials beat -- Barack Obama and John McCain. Congratulations, boys! Your Twitter avatards have arrived!

And big virtual high-five from me because you've tricked people into thinking that having Blackberry thumb races to see which one of you can Tweet faster about having cake-eating contests on a federally sponsored trip to Syria is a legitimate career. As someone who's been trying to trick others into paying me money for years in exchange for my similar non-skill skills, I salute you.

Unless of course your efforts are helping the terrorists win...

But before discussing the pitfalls of the douchey duo's approach to statecraft, let's take a look at the entire Internet and how nefarious foreign entities may use it. Hilariously accented Belarusian thinker Evgeny Morozov points out that the Eeeenterrrrnet actually helps dictatorships and other oppressive regimes because it gives them a very easy platform on which to spin stories. That is, they can pay bloggers to accuse those who post something negative about the government to write e-essays about how that person is untrustworthy or a foreign operative or Sharktopus or whatever.

More poignantly, and this is probably Morozov's strongest argument, he says that social netvooorrrrrks have become all-you-can-eat information buffets for oppressive governments to easily figure out who the dissidents are, how they're connecting and, often, where they'll be. "Een the past eet vould take you veeks, if not months, to identify how ... activeests connect to each other. Now you actually know how zay connect to each other by looking at zee Facebook page." Gone is the need to torture, he says, "Now eet's all available aaahhhnline!"

And now I have a strange craving for vodka with a borscht chaser...

While I go get my delicious and healthy breakfast ready (my ancestors are proud today), think about this: Foreign policy and diplomacy in oppositional countries are touchy things. It's all about the message and knowing how best to control it to ensure it has the best chance to be understood as intended. The Internet aids none of those things and using the excuse of "Oh well! It's the future! We gotta work with it!" is not good enough. Just because it exists does not mean you have to use it. Crack exists, too, yet you don't see me eating that for breakfast!

But I digress. While, of course, I recognize there will never be a means to control entirely a message no matter how great of wording you use or how you send it, I do understand that certain methods increase your chances exponentially. Twitter is not one of them. Having senior-level State Department employees haphazardly broadcast 140-character sic-filled snippets about cake-eating contests to the world does little to help our relations with Syria. (As far as I know, not one less dollar was diverted to arming Hezbollah Hamas because of that.) Instead, Tweets like those just lead the world to further stereotype all Americans as diabetic fatsos at best (don't we already spread enough of that message abroad by continuing to franchise McDonalds?), and frivolous idiots who shouldn't be taken seriously at worst. Random Tweets coming from the guise of a "legitimate government official" just make us sound like a f*cking frathouse. And a lame one at that...

Basically, whether you're a layperson on a mission or a government official (which means by your title alone you're by default on a mission), this all comes down to the purpose behind your message. If you don't have one, then you shouldn't be Tweeting (wipe that cake off your face and pay attention, Cohen.). And if you do have a message, then you need to think about the consequences of sending it via a 140-character snippet to the entire world.

Non-governmental entities need to think about who else could read their message. If activists are going to continue to use it as a new way to organize protests before they occur, it seems that the government they're protesting against will always win. If they use it simply to publicize their protests as they're happening then perhaps they stand a chance. (Morozov writes more about that idea here.)

Government agents need to think about social media more fundamentally, however. Unlike laypeople, where I think the Internet can help their cause greatly if used as a means to publicize rather than organize, I think federally employed thumbs need to think about this before they hit send: How -- if at all -- can Twitter or Facebook help the American diplomatic cause in real-time? I'm not so sure it can. Diplomacy is about compromise, meaning there's a lot of back-and-forth before one or more parties make concessions to reach an agreement. This back-and-forth needs to be carefully crafted and communicated to the correct individuals (and more importantly, perhaps, NOT to others) in order to decrease the chance of misinterpretation. Broadcasting everything to the world in this case just seems idiotic. With that in mind, I think social media should only be used by the State department to publicize when an agreement has been made, not to negotiate some kind of "21st-century statecraft," as State Secretary Clinton has called it, or spout off some ridiculous observation without thinking it through.

Perhaps in the future, there will be a wider roll for such things, but for now it just seems like 21st-century shambles. Cohen and Ross may have had a chuckle about that now infamous cake-eating Tweet, but the rest of the world did not. Perhaps not even the Syrian communication minister to whom that cake-eating Tweet was directed. Since as far as I know he doesn't have a Twitter, we'll never know what he thought, but imagine if he did Tweet, didn't like what the Americans said and wrote, "Really? THIS is what the USA sends to me? Liberal democracy. Pfft." What good would that do for our cause? With so much of the world already against us, should we really give them more avenues by which to dislike us? Because right now the bad is outweighing the good when it comes to government officials on Twitter.

To quote "The Room," a movie whose creative and barely understandable lines always shed light on worldwide issues, "Keep your stupid comments in your pocket." And I mean that literally, State Department. Put your Blackberrys away. Or at least use G-chat.

***

And speaking of avartards and such, did you know you can follow The Anti DC on Twitter and "like" The Anti DC page on Facebook? The Anti DC's marketing department would appreciate your participation on both. Thank you.

good fun without the sun

You may have noticed I'm not the kind of blogger who writes too much about my social life. There are several reasons for this. For one, I'm surprisingly a very private person when it comes down to it, as are my closest friends (surprisingly I do have some). And secondly, I mostly refrain from talking about my social life because it would sound a little something like this: I acquired Netflix this weekend and watched five films back-to-back. (I didn't say most of my friends weren't streamed movies online.)

But don't worry. It's not as pathetic as it sounds. See, I'm not so much of a recluse that I completely decided to shut myself off from humanity this weekend. Nope, I twittered about it! Wait. So that is as pathetic as it sounds. Actually it's more pathetic because it sounded like this: "Joined Netflix ergo will be watching movies all day between naps. Stay tuned for several 140-word film reviews..."

And just like a can of beans to a hobo (or, um, me), I didn't disappoint. Of course, considering I fell asleep through large chunks of almost all the movies I watched, the reviews went something like this: "No Country for Old Men -- Not as good as the book. On the bright side, I only fell asleep during it once! Next up : Bottle Rocket." Or this: "Not sure why Bottle Rocket is supposedly a cult classic. There were a few good 1-liners, but overall=yawn. Next up a docu called Jesus Camp."

And that's when I woke up. See, not that I would ever presume to know for sure, but I think it's safe to deduce that Jesus Camp would scare Jesus. It certainly scared me.



But I'm not even most scared of the fact that these people believe we're in some sort of "God War." I'm mostly just freaked out by the length and width of that kid Levi's rat-tail. Now that's battle-worthy.

And speaking of battle-worthy, it's probably time I declare a half-hearted war on my self-created image of a wayward loner who spends her weekends loafing around pantsless covered in graham crackers crumbs, chocolate bar wrappers and microwaved marshmallow remnants, which, by the way, is not a good idea if you want to be able to ever wash your dish again. That sh*t stuck to the plate tighter than Sea-Bond to your grandma's dentures. But at least I didn't get any on my pants (marshmallow, not Sea-Bond). Although my adult bib is a mess (with both marshmallow and, inexplicably, Sea-Bond -- who's been using my adult bib?! SVEN?!).

Anyway, I chose to let Sunday pass me by while I watched slept through not only No Country For Old Men, Bottle Rocket and Jesus Camp, but also Transsiberian and The King of Kong (which is really good, by the way) because I was exhausted from the previous few days, which I split between hanging out in and around beautiful Charlottesville, Va., and working at the sex shop in douchey DC.

Clearly, one of those activities was superior to the other and since this blog is called The Anti DC, I won't even bother going into which activities I preferred more.

The best part of my sojourn out to Virginia though occurred on Thursday morning when I happened upon Wonder Nut Farms.


Which is located just west of BumpASS.


God bless this country.



Uh, or not. Wait. Nevermind. Harry Potter, Public God Enemy No. 1, is British. This country is still safe.



Wait. No. We're f*cked. And I'm not even talking about the total rejection of science so much as that kid's rat-tail again. Yikes, in Jesus' name...

house me

I hate responsibility, which is probably one of the reasons why I am so good at being unemployed. I'm really good at taking naps. I'm an excellent bad television watcher. And I am exceptionally talented at going to museums and making friends with prehistoric creatures:

Hi, friend!

Doesn't he look like a gentle soul? I met him in New York this weekend. You don't find these kinds of gentle souls while being a reporter on the Hill, I tell you what! Anyway, this giant tortoise skeleton's name is Dewey, which also happens to be the name of my niece. And wouldn't you know it, my niece also happens to be a tortoise! Of course, she's not related to me by blood, as I don't believe any of my kin carries the tortoise gene (to our shame); instead, she's adopted, but I don't think my brother or sister-in-law have told her. Anyway, here she is, doing what most babies (and tortoises) do best -- chewing on random sh*t:

Yum?

And speaking of family, Dewey's parents recently went to Florida where my sister-in-law bought what might be the coolest, or more appropriately (wait 'til you see it), "most boss" item to be found in a Goodwill store in the history of ever:


However, owning a jacket this boss could be tough, as I can only imagine, much like raising a tortoise (and having a fulltime job), wearing this much freedom on your back entails a great deal of responsibility. You can't just pop this on and walk out the door. I imagine to sport this properly, one need also don a trucker hat, a gun holster and a belt buckle large (and boss) enough to depict a trucker in a hat holding a gun. Moreover, I'm pretty sure wearing something as boss as this also requires you sleep each night naked wrapped in an American flag, which means, despite my lack of those other boss accessories, my sleeping habits allow me to be at least boss enough to view such a boss item. That reminds me, it's time I put away my winter flannel flag in exchange for a much more spring-appropriate cotton one. No one likes waking up in a cold sweat. That's not boss.

Unless you're a tortoise. Apparently, they can be stored for months in the fridge. Now, that's boss. And maybe I'd look into adopting my own tortoises to live in the vacant spaces of my refrigerator, but, unfortunately, it looks like I may not have my own fridge for much longer. See, I need to move out of my studio apartment, which shouldn't be that hard considering I will have no tortoises to transport or much bedding to move (just the two flags).

And while eventually I'll type "I need to move" followed by the phrase "out of this hell hole," right now I simply mean I'm looking to move into a cheaper DC abode...with (gasp!) roommates. Which, I suppose, could be boss. And don't get me wrong, it's not that I can't afford my hobo lair anymore, but with big plans coming up this fall, which may or may not involve an around-the-world trek in search of my very own boss Signature Marine Co. windbreaker and finding good homes for wayward tortoises, it's time for me to start tucking away some cash between the folds of my mattress and Old Glory (the cotton one). The $25 stimulus bonus I'm getting each week courtesy of President Obama just isn't cutting it. So now I'm looking for a new spot under $700 starting in May. So, if you know of anyone with a room cheap enough to house an unemployed rogue blogger with dreams of becoming a badass jacket-wearing, tortoise-rescuing bike messenger, drop me a line. That'd be super boss.

In the meantime, I'll be spending my days scouring Craigslist, where I will continue to be disappointed because of all the un-boss ads like this:


$600 ******Beautiful room for rent******* affordable

Reply to: [redacted]
Date: 2009-03-26, 11:54AM EDT

Don't spend Inauguration week commuting for hours! I offer a suite on Capitol Hill, FOUR BLOCKS FROM THE CAPITOL BUILDING and Obama's swearing-in ceremony, 4 blocks from the metro, and two blocks from historic Capitol Hill bars!!! No cars, buses, train tickets needed -- just wake up and go to all the events and trendy bars/restaurants at your leisure. This beautiful, fully-furnished 2 br suite at 4th and E. Capitol SE is available...

Let's see here. This ad was put up just before noon today. Now, I never claimed to be the most punctual of people, but I do believe this ad is a good TWO MONTHS TOO LATE. So, yeah. Like I said, if you know of any rooms for rent IN THE PRESENT TIME, I'd greatly appreciate a head's up.

In closing, I would like to add that I was just giving you the business about me not being responsible. I love paying bills on time, paying rent on time and cleaning up after myself. Seriously. I'm boss like that.

i did NOT jizz in my pants

I decided to go for a jog for the first time in a couple of days weeks months OK goddammit, years on Friday, which turned out to be simultaneously one of the most refreshing and disgusting experiences I've had in quite a while. It was refreshing, of course, because it's nice to be able to work off a few bean calories to make room for more moonshine; but disgusting, I say, because when my jog took me down to Meridian Hill Park between Columbia Heights and U Street, I had to alter my straight lines of movement into a cha-cha-like jump when I confronted not one, not two, but COUNTLESS used condoms.

Now many of you may remember one of my very early complaints about DC, which was about the plethora of Band-Aids on the sidewalks around town. That was gross, of course, but it was understandable. People get blisters. People then cover those blisters with Band-Aids. Said Band-Aids cannot withstand the conditions of sweaty feet. Ergo, Band-Aids find their ways onto a sidewalk more often than probably necessary, especially since most of the shoes I see people wearing around here don't seem to warrant sacrificing comfort for aesthetics. SHAMBLES!

But let's not get sidetracked by inappropriate city footwear. Let's return to people apparently having lots of dirty sex in a public park. (Giggity giggity!)

I get it (sorta). I mean, times are tough. Maybe your bank foreclosed on your house. Maybe you couldn't make that car payment. Maybe you're not Eliot Spitzer and couldn't afford to take your hooker to a nice hotel. Maybe you couldn't even afford a room at the HoJo. Like I said, I get it.

But only sorta. See, all of these used prophylactics were found in open spaces, often smack in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing me to do a jig around the jizz. Now, if it was me gettin' busy in the park, I'd choose a more private locale. Maybe a grassy knoll behind a bush, or at least a non-paved path somewhere in the depths of the park, opposed to the concrete and tar sidewalk on the perimeter. That just can't be pleasant. (Ouch.)

But despite my confusion and disgust, I am somewhat pleased because at least these freaks in the park are being safe. It's called the bright side, e-friends, and I'm trying desperately to look at it right now to suppress my urge to vomit. Although, if I just vomited after imbibing my delicious bean recipes, perhaps I wouldn't have to go jogging in the first place, let alone jogging through random dudes' spunk. What a novel idea!

But joking about serious eating disorders aside, I'm most upset about this sticky situation (har-har!) because I hate litter. In a country full of public garbage cans, littering is highly unnecessary. And clearly, I'm not the first one to say this. Our government has said this for quite sometime! And so dramatically at that!

I, too, just shed a single tear. Now, please, do DC a favor and clean up after your splooge. Thanks.

almost heaven, west virginia

This weekend was surprisingly productive for me. And not only because I didn't cry myself to sleep each night clutching a bottle of cheap rum. It was productive because I managed to get back to the shooting range and I made it out to West Virginia to play the ponies at Charles Tooooooooooooown Races'n'Slots! (Come on, you know the jingle.)

In short, I found home.

Not only was everyone incredibly nice, but I won $375! And while, I'd love to tell you I won by betting the superfecta on Stored Kisses, Bigum, Wild and Tricky, and Bald Baby, I didn't. For one, that bet would've been impossible as none of those horses were even in the same race. They did all win in the name department though. And honestly, I effing suck at picking horses who actually win as my method involves betting according to jockey weight, which is a bit difficult as they all weigh about as much as a horseshoe anyway. Instead, I won my $375 on a slot machine, which means I actually won $364.75 as it cost me about $10.25 worth of spins to finally hit the jackpot. (Math!)

True to form, I wasn't even paying attention when I won because I was too busy deciding on whether to put my money on Grazing With Nancy's jockey, M. Cornwell, who weighs 114 pounds, or Git Out Da Way's jockey, E. Ramirez, who weighs 113 pounds (I ultimately chose him and won $2.80!). But when I heard the sweet sounds of computerized bleeps and blips that just wouldn't quit, I began to realize something on my machine was clearly too legit, so I looked up and saw it. I had one red "7" on the payline accompanied by two purple "5x Winner" decals. This may sound like gibberish, and really, it also looked like gibberish, but this combination somehow meant I won 60 quarters times five, TIMES FIVE AGAIN, which equals 1,500 quarters or $375, or, as I prefer to think of it, 6,536,250 Vietnamese dong, the best named currency EVER.

Of course, my moment of glory was slightly eviscerated when the onlookers behind me noted that had I bet the maximum coinage on the spin (75 cents), I would've won $1,125. D'oh! Thanks for raining on my parade, or perhaps more apropos, sh*tting on my slots, hillbillies with mathematical abilities!

But I shant let my non-knowledge of how slot machines work cheapen my victory (at least metaphorically...) because right now, $375 is more than I make in a week...in welfare, er, unemployment.

Whoops! I better not talk too much about my newly found riches. After all, I don't want to attract a bunch of e-golddiggers, so let's regress back to playing the ponies, an activity at which I objectively sucked, not only at the actual betting, but at the photodocumenting of said betting.

Shady people making shadier bets. He gave us some tips. It didn't work out so well.

Run, G's Heavenly Union, RUN!

Or should I say Gallant Whiskey? Which would apparently be MY NAME had I been born a race horse! Thank you, boundless and useless Internet for providing me a Horse Name Generator! It's almost as good as the Wu-Name Generator, which reminds me, please call me Flailing Fanatical Killer from now on. Thanks.

Speaking of killers -- killer road trips, that is -- I'll be taking leave for the rest of the week as I have some things I need to take care of (read: scavenging for beans) that don't involve me logging onto the Internet for five whole days! AHH! Instead, you can bet that during any freetime I may have in between bean hunts, I'll be studying the Daily Racing Forum, or as I like to call it -- the instruction manual to one of my new careers. The other, of course, is greeting cards.

i need cable

I also need to stop being poor. Dammit.

Anyway, in return for what I'm hoping might lead to a bit of national exposure, I'm going to pimp a television show that I've never seen on a television channel I have zero chance of ever hoping to watch as long as I remain poor. Again, dammit. But if my little intrepid self-promotion scheme goes as planned, hopefully I'll get a little link luv from the good globetrotters of The Travel Channel in the near future (*wink!*)

So, I received an E-mail from a TC public relations person today informing me of a television program called Passport To Great Weekends and tonight's episode, which airs at 10 p.m., just so happens to focus on this little slice of hell we live in, the District of Columbia:

"Samantha [the host, who apparently has caused a bit of controversy on her blog by hosting the show in short shorts] is spending a weekend in Washington, D.C., but don't expect it to be an average trip to the nation's capital. Sam's not meeting her congress person or visiting any monuments or galleries. She's intent on exposing the colorful, more fun side of the city by eating Ethiopian food, checking out a bohemian poetry event, shopping at the Eastern Market, and braving a drag queen brunch. Most people imagine D.C. to be a conservative and monochromatic place, but Sam will show us a vibrant and dynamic city that's anything but gray."

Let me be the first to say I am skeptical (shocking, I know!), although with a good edit, I'm sure the producers can come up with something beyond hordes of gnarly tourists. Even so though, I have my serious doubts that they can make D.C. look "vibrant" and "dynamic." As much as I'd enjoy it, you can't edit out this city's horrid sense of fashion. If I could (read: if I wasn't poor), I'd turn tonight's show into a drinking contest and take a shot every time I saw Samantha run into some dishabille douche in Crocs. I'd be drunk by 10:05 p.m. and probably dead by 10:30 p.m. -- my liver ain't a magician.

Anyway, I peeped the list of locations The Travel Channel is going to feature and frankly I'm saddened; Samantha's skipping over what is probably the most "vibrant" section of the city -- the H Street corridor. But listen, in the spirit of disgustingly obvious attempts to self-promote, let me make The Travel Channel an offer (that they can unfortunately refuse pretty easily): Take me on as a guest host and I will make sh*t right. I own short shorts.

But seriously, if you're home tonight and you're not poor and can afford cable, you might as well watch this, because really, after So You Think You Can Dance? puts a close to its epic season this evening, you'll need something to take your mind off how depressed you are. Although, I already grieved last week when Mark got booted. Stupid America. He had such major skills! Robert Byrd, restore my faith in this country!

Unfortunately, the exocism on Cheney failed.

Ahh...that's better. USA! USA! USA!

freedom personified

On the proverbial tail of my recent infatuation with this sticky hot mess of a town, I chanced upon a rather epic photo this afternoon while trying to find out the latest hullaballoo on the supplemental appropriations bill (and if you have no idea what I'm talking about, then I'm extremely jealous of you and want your job). Not only did this photo nearly single-handedly make me love DC for a brief moment in time, but it made me love freedom ever-so-slightly more. (I didn't even know that was possible!)

Anyway, without further a-doo-doo, I invite you to:

BEHOLD THE GREATNESS!

BEHOLD THE GLORY!!

BEHOLD THE BYRD WITH BIRD!!!

Sen. Robert Byrd (D-W.Va.) started winning me over earlier this year when I witnessed him entering an appropriations mark-up shouting, "Make way for Liber-tay!" instead of the more boring and unpatriotic "Excuse me." Now, his love for the bald eagle (look at them just gazing into each other's America-loving eyes *sigh*) has convinced me -- Byrd is the word! (Or the "wyrd," perhaps?)

He may not be as much of a looker as Norm Coleman and he may not be as nutty (in a delightfully entertaining way) as Ed Markey, but Senator Byrd certainly is No. 1, just like the USA! USA! USA! Seriously, if you don't look at this picture and instantly start chanting, you're probably a terrorist.