My Majorly Massive Non-Dismissive Missive On Moving

I get the sense that most people haven't really heard from me since I moved. Let's rectify that.



After exactly seven years in the DC area, I shipped off to Boston... TO FIND! MY! WOODEN! LEG! And I'll be looking for it from my apartment in the aptly named Mid-Cambridge neighborhood, equidistant from Inman, Harvard and Central Squares. I'm closest to "stuff" in Central, though the neighborhood demographic and appearance are more like Harvard. So if that leg I lost whilst climbing about in the topsails turns up in any of the fancy, high-priced Euro-style pawn shops in my neck of the woods... or perhaps in one of the twelve local Crate & Barrel shops, refashioned into a set of matching coffee stirrers... I'm all over it.

Unexpected and unfortunate unidexterity aside, I'm really thrilled to be back. My situation worked out just about exactly how I'd want it to work out. I'm in a great spot... a quick hop from anything I'd need, and a quick T ride from everything else. My apartment is nice, furnished with all the luxury items a cultured manchild-about-town could ever need. I was quite lucky to find an apartment on such short notice that covered the heating bill and also had an electric peg-leg sharpener in the bathroom.

(Here's where I stop pretending to have one leg. I am not a unidexter.)

So, some thoughts on being back...

Being back. (Great segue!) I'm adjusting, albeit slowly. It's becoming less and less of a big, romantic deal to be here... every bill that arrives at my new address reminds me of that.

But just because it's less so doesn't mean it's not so. I haven't stopped marveling at the brick sidewalk under my feet every day, nor at the weirdly-shaped streets that probably weren't so weirdly-shaped 400 years ago. And I still appreciate being able to run along the Charles, looping around at the fields where I had soccer practice in high school.

It isn't as universally awe-inspiring as casually playing ultimate under the Washington Monument... but in a way, it kinda is.

Cantabridgianity. This may not seem like a major adjustment, but it's huge. Walking around Cambridge with a sense of ownership is just totally bizarre to me. Growing up, I reserved the status symbol of Cambridge residency for Brahmins, Ivy Leaguers, professors, politicos, snobs, pain-in-the-ass Euros, and the self-consciously well-to-do. Not me, the son of public school teachers, the middle-class bankruptcy survivor. Moving to Cambridge seemed as likely as moving to Mongolia. Strictly a fictional proposal.

Of course, it's a silly way to look at it. It's not that big a deal. But it sure seems like a big deal. The fact that I'm sitting in my Cambridge apartment right now kinda blows my mind, in a good way.

My pre-Comcast routine. Prior to getting internet installed at home (and, by the way... FUCK YOU, COMCAST) I had a nice daily grind mooching wifi from cafes. It was a nice routine... plunk myself down at Darwin's, buy tons of food that I normally wouldn't because I'm mooching their wifi all day, exchange pleasantries with the mostly female employees and underage 100% legal customers of the non-denominational cafe... all that's a big step up from the office environment I left behind. (The one I'm simulating seamlessly from 400 miles away.) It's not a sustainable lifestyle, but one I enjoyed while I could.

My apartment. I've grown to like my apartment. I didn't like it much when it was empty, but I liked where it was situated. But now that I've furnished it (well, almost) I'm beginning to like it a lot.

The building isn't as ideal as its neighborhood, but the roughness around the edges can be chalked up to it being a self-built, self-managed mid-rise, as opposed to a professionally developed... development. That's something I can get behind. I'll forgive a broken AC outlet or two in exchange for the knowledge that I'm not helping the filthy rich get filthier or richer.

That's not to say it's a hole. The bathroom, for instance, is nice enough that I felt obliged to buy, for the first time in my life, a shower curtain. And not just any shower curtain... one that matched the tiling. It's not stunning, but it's a start. Maybe by the time my kids graduate college I'll give a shit what the rest of my living space looks like.

Then there's the balcony, which doesn't do me much good now that it's getting down into the 40s at night. I've been looking longingly at the planters at Home Depot, thinking about how to spruce things up a bit out there... put in an herb garden, plastic furniture, etc... only to realize that the basil plant of my dreams is about to be draped in a snow drift. But come spring... it'll be nothing but fresh basil and rosemary up in this bitch!!!

Boston is expensive. Want some advice? Don't be a neurotic, short-fused headcase who can't share space with other people. Learn to deal with minor personality quirks. It will save you thousands if you ever move to Boston, especially if you like things like "clean dishes" and "heat." Ohhh, dishwasher. How I need you.

(Call me a spoiled, insufferable, prissy little pussy who has grown up to become everything he hated as a child if you must... but this is a simple matter of public health. I've seen the foul beasts that emerge from the dish-stacked sink when I'm left to my own devices. I flatly refuse to subject my neighbors to filth and disease just because I want to prove a point. Should someone's poor old grandmother die because someone on the internet thinks I'm a wuss? Why not go kick a homeless guy in the nuts while you're at it? In summation, I need a dishwasher because I love homeless children more than you do, you inconsiderate prick.)

Cambridge is nicer than Silver Spring... I'll defend Silver Spring until I'm blue in the face. Over seven years, I watched it grow from a shallow turd of urban blight into a mere shitstain on the side of the Toilet of Columbia. What a difference a few years can make! All kidding aside, Silver Spring became a community worth taking the Metro (and leaving the District) to check out. But it's not Cambridge. You can't beat someplace that has so much character. Cambridge will always be Cambridge; Silver Spring hopes someday to be Bethesda. Chalk one up for those of us on the wrong side of the river.

...but it definitely fails the class diversity test. The most underrated thing about Silver Spring is how diverse a place it is. Even after the recent Bethesdification of the downtown area, it's still a minority-driven and largely middle-class city. How long that will last, I don't know. But that's one striking difference with Cambridge: it's not narrow, but it's more narrow. Having become accustomed to being a minority, it's odd to be back in the majority, in terms of both race and class. Not better or worse, just foreign. Just an observation, based on a few weeks' walking around.

Thank Jesus it doesn't fail the pizza test. DC is the worst pizza city ever. Much as I adored a late-night jumbo slice after a night in Adams Morgan, the faithfully excellent 2 Amys, or Armand's delivery, Washington is a gimmick pizza city. Go there and try to find a regular slice of pizza, from a typical greasy pizza shop. Not possible. The market for plain old pizza just plain old sucks. You can find a 1300-calorie behemoth, a Chicago-style cake slice, or a Denominazione Originata e Controllata-approved Neapolitan pie. But you cannot find a good old slice of pizza. Thank God I'm back in a city that appreciates a slice of friggin pizza.

Well... I suppose it warrants mentioning that the best slice of pizza in walking distance comes in squares. It counts as a gimmick, but it really, really isn't fair at all to Pinocchio's. They do serve cheese in regular slices, so they count. And my point stands if you use Il Panino, which owns every pizzeria in DC without even being a pizza shop in the strictest sense. And Pinocchio's owns Il Panino, though not by much. So there.

Bars. For now, let's just say I prefer them. Two words: People's Republik. Game, set, match for Cambridge. And how many DC bars have scorpion bowls, hmmm????????

In fairness, I have not yet been out on a typical Friday night yet. So I will refrain from judging with any finality until I've done that. I also haven't come up against any insane last call times either, so once that happens I may change my mind. But until then, I'm pro-Mass.

In conclusion... come visit. I even have guest parking decals to share!

We now return you to your regular, fluffy, frothy blog of music reviews and stuff.

OH NOES TEH AQUA TEENS ARE BOMBS!!!

I would love to discuss the bomb threat at the length it deserves.  Unfortunately, the process of rebutting the Boston media and the mentally-handicapped elected officials from Massachusetts has left me literally shaking with rage.  Today, I am ashamed to come from Boston.  Since it may never see the light of day, here's the short version.  (Yes, this is the short version.)

The advertising campaign (not a hoax, which implies intent to fool, of which there is none) was brilliant.  Not irresponsible, not asinine, not even remotely in questionable taste... just ingenious.  And really, really funny.

The reaction from the city, and the seriousness with which the situation was treated, is as close to real-life satire as you can get.  The outrage exhibited by local media types and politicians has been laughable.  Their hideous attempts to insist that this is unfunny only makes the whole fiasco that much funnier.  Any more of this petty, shameful grandstanding from Gov. Deval Patrick, Rep. Ed Markey and Mayor Mumbles Menino and I might have an asthma attack from laughing so hard in their idiot faces.

Here's where it stops being funny: two guys are sitting in jail right now, because nobody gets the joke.

Aside from the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, that is the most disgusting thing that has ever happened in the name of 9/11.  Some poor bastards posted ADVERTISEMENTS that were misinterpreted by the police... "misinterpreted" meaning THE POLICE WERE WRONG!!!!!!!!... and the guys who put up the signs get put in jail!  For no legitimate reason beyond petty revenge and politically-driven outrage.  As Jim Ross would say, that is just sick.

Not one person has come forward and acknowledged what I consider to be the truth of the situation: that nobody is at fault, and that nothing should have happened any differently than it did.  Everyone's too busy trying to blame someone.  Meanwhile, the poor guys who posted the signs are locked up because Mumbles Menino has a hair across his ass.  Shame on him.  And shame on the rest of the government for not even acknowledging their own role in this mess.  And people wonder why young people don't show an interest in politics!

Here's another interesting thing: haven't we Dazzling Urbanites been trained to expect this sort of thing from back-woods country towns?  Ol' Herm sees a suspicious DHL package and calls in the sheriff, yelling "It's the Al Qaedas!!!"  So the sheriff locks up the delivery guy the next day, until they open the package and find a bunch of ladies' undergarments meant for the town schoolteacher.  And we coastal folks would laugh and laugh... "oh those backwards redneck hicks, aren't they foolish" and so forth.  Well, not so fast, because that's pretty much what happened yesterday in Boston, Massachusetts.  The Athens of America.  One of our country's most sophisticated and intellectual cities.  That's a touchdown for Rural America, my friends, and the PAT is good.  Rurals 7, Boston 0.

I would love to link to the stories that have so infuriated me.  I'd love to show you the picture of the two "defendants" laughing in court.  I'd love to illustrate the deeply sickening bias in the media's portrayal of this entire story, from bigwig traditional media like the Globe and the Herald to wannabe-reputable blogs like Bostonist.  But linking to these sites would only help them perpetuate their view of the story, a view that I consider to be not just wrong but far more irresponsible in nature than anything the Turner people have been accused of.  Besides, I don't want anyone else to get pissed off... nobody should ever be as livid as I am right now.

More later, if I get my shit together.

My New Hero

Rep. Brian Kagen (D-WI) is an American hero.  Via Wonkette comes this:

Kagen, still hurting from the hard campaign, reportedly took note that Bush had come to Green Bay to campaign against him and congratulated the president for helping him win in an indirect reference to Bush's low approval rating. Kagen then reportedly greeted the president's wife, Laura Bush, by intentionally using the first name of the president's mother, Barbara, instead.

"I did that because I learned on the campaign trail that the meanest thing you can say to another gentleman is, 'He's a fine fellow.' And then you refer to his spouse by a different name," Kagen is reported to have told a local peace activist group who visited his Appleton campaign office Dec. 19.

In addition, Kagen reportedly told the activists he held the door to a White House men's room closed when he was alone with Rove.

"You're in the White House and think you're safe, huh?" Kagen was said to have told Rove. "You recognize me? My name's Dr. Multimillionaire and I kicked your ass."

Then he smacked that bitch with his pimp cane and yelled "Don't you know who the fuck ah ammmmm?"

I'm not sure whether I prefer this to the smackdown delivered by Sen. Jim Webb (D-VA).  Kagen gets extra style points for the "you recognize me?" line, which is an instant classic, but there's also something to be said for the simple chill of Sen. Webb's "that's between me and my boy, Mr. [Douchebag]."  It requires more balls to say what Sen. Webb said to a sitting president, at a public photo op, than it does for Rep. Kagen to corner a behind-the-scenes political adviser after a pulled-pork dump.  Then again, revenge is a dish best served in the pooper, which is where Rep. Kagen claimed to have kicked Rove.

I am loving the lame-duck era.

Gotcha, Bitch!

Most of this article is about the bait car program in northern Virginia.  Basically, the cops rig up commonly-stolen cars with hidden cameras and trackers, and nail anyone who drives off inside about four minutes.  Out of 73 activations, they've made 56 arrests, each of whom has pled guilty once they arrive in court due to the unmistakable video evidence.  Nothing special, just a good Metro section report.

Then this happens.

In one Loudoun incident that has become infamous among area police departments, a man stole a bait vehicle and was able to drive it from Leesburg to Southeast Washington because of technical difficulties. Police eventually got the suspect, minutes after the camera caught him smoking crack and masturbating. He had spent part of his ride urinating in a soda can, then drinking his urine to try to quell a case of the hiccups. He also vomited twice.

I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation for this...

Election Day

So I voted today.  The church in Silver Spring was pretty crowded; took me about an hour from start to finish.  Hopefully the folks in those parts will continue to pack the church... seeing as folks in my neighborhood are more likely to vote with their crispy moderate liberal minds and go with Cardin and O'Malley.

Random observations about voting:

1) There was a 13 month-old toddler behind me walking around and looking generally thrilled by life.  That made the time pass a little quicker.

2) I was expecting some Diebold-related chicanery, but it was even crazier than I expected.  Every time I checked a Democrat's name, the voting machine popped up a warning that read, "Are you sure you want to vote for the Homocrat?"  How nuts is that???  Maybe it's a bug or something... after all, everyone knows the Homocrat warning was supposed to come up for the Republicans.

3) There was a shortage of voter access cards in the polling area.  The church broke into two different lines... one for checking in to get an access card, and one for the Diebold Republ-o-matic machines.  But just like 2004, the second line grew too long, which meant that the first line couldn't move until enough access cards were returned.  While I realize that the rate-limiting step is the people in the booths, is it really that difficult to have a shitload of plastic cards lying around?  Given how easily the machines can be hacked, the little plastic doohickeys can't be that expensive.

3a) The word "doohickey" just made it through my spell-checker.  That's not about voting, that's just interesting to me.

4) I'm probably not the first to ask this question, but I wonder whether the Republicans' perpetual resistance to "facts" and "evidence" when discussing their policies has anything to do with their religion.  Christianity is a matter of faith; evidence is not just irrelevant, but frowned-upon.  Anyone know any prominent Republicans with a distaste for facts and evidence?  It could just be a matter of debate skills, but Bush is probably better at practicing blind faith than he is at arguing.