In Providence today to face off with the FBI.

They've got nothing on me. Nothing.

Heading down to Florida for the next seven days. Even with the recent Goober/Boggle merger, it may not be possible to "weblog" in such swampy terrain. But if it is, I'll file the first offical fluff pieces on Election 2004.

Just back a weekend in Beantown, where it was incredibly cold. How cold was it? So cold, the Boston Red Sox changed their name to the Boston Cold Sox.

Started the evening in classic District style, watching the sun set over the phallus of the Washington monument from the steps of the Capitol building. BarnRaiser*, my guide, filled me in on some startling omissions in the Library of Congress' Law Section.

Then on to Fadó, a self-conscious little Irish chain pub in the center of Chinatown, meeting Burnt Alice* to tip back a couple of "proudly-poured 20 oz pints." Amidst the contrived clutter of Emerald Isle paraphernalia (James Joyce, apparently, was Irish), we met a lovely gentleman who bought us drinks and kept telling his wife to shut the [expletive deleted] up so he could talk. Her analysis: "I've been away for a while. He needs a good [expletive deleted] as much as I do." They were still sitting there when we left.
Lies told: Alma Mater (Advanced Studies): Northwestern University School of Law (expelled), Alma mater (Undergrad):Pastry School, Johnson & Wales.

Headed a few blocks over to The Warehouse Theater to meet BananaBoy*, 100 Cows* (my hosts in this fair city) and other friends for the Capitol City premiere of Tiny Ninja Theater presents Romeo & Juliet, then back Chinatown way for a lawyer-heavy dinner (50% of attendees) at Full Kee, a well-reviewed subterranean establishment which I would avoid if you have an allergy to shrimp, as the wait staff tends to be somewhat unclear about the ingredients of their dumplings.

Losing the rest of the crowd, BR, BA and I made our way to the fashionable Adams-Morgan area for a late-night (10pm, apparently, in D.C.) lip-wetter. After trudging through a crowded Tryst (an enormous, smoky Starbucks with booze) and Millie & Al's (a dingy hole-in-the-wall with pretensions), we settled on relatively-uncrowded late-eighties atmosphere of Toledo Lounge for a final libation to the tune of Tony Basil's "Mickey". Hey, Mickey, you're so fine. You're so fine you blow my mind. Hey, Mickey. Hey, Mickey.

Evening's Goal: Get Burnt Alice drunk enough that she shows up for work hungover (failed)
Bar Roundup: Fadó, Tryst, Millie & Al's, Toledo Lounge
Alcohol of Choice: Beer, supplemented by Whiskey shots
Best Pickup Line: (irresistible, despite complete lack of interest on my part)
Me: (Explains that my first name, as recorded on my birth certificate, is "Baby Boy")
She: So, can we call you Baby Boy?
Me: You can just call me Baby.

*new pseudonym

"Wreak havoc," cries Julius Caesar in Titus, Shakespeare's best loved comedy, "And let out the dogs to war!"

It is this quote that sings in my ears as I sit here in Washington, D.C., where it is painfully obvious that our leaders are preparing for an inevitable - and brutal - war.

War - yes, war: an ugly word, a harsh word, a four-letter word, but the word that - so oft of late - rings through these halls of power with a tenor so deep and so loud that it echoes chillingly through the nearby streets. It is this word - "war" - that strikes me as I first see the white-domed edifices of the D.C. skyline looming, and it is this word - "war" - that haunts me to this very day, the next day. "War" is a word bandied about in Our Nation's Capitol with the careless nonchalance of a badminton ball. We hear whispers as far away as NYC, but we do not believe - can not believe - how close we are to the brink.

The brink... of war.

Shakespeare's "war dogs" sniff the ass of America, and nothing - not friendly petting, nor any amount of delicious war dog biscuits - will dissuade them from wreaking the Bard's famous "havoc." "War" - The word hangs on the tongues - and minds - of every citizen in this fair city. Though telephones buzz and the internet continues to hum, the tension is palpable as the city of Washington D.C. arms itself and prepares for war.

War, with nearby Virginia.

A chilling thought. But who are we to judge? As the Bible says: "Let he who does not want to declare war on Virginia cast the first stone."

In my offical capacity as Tiny Ninja Theater co-producer, I am off to our nation's capitol to hobnob with high-powered attorneys, environmental pundits, and puzzle-loving lesbians. If "weblog" technology has reached that far South, I will keep the world apprised of my DC doings as they happen (italics mine) via this website. Otherwise, the world will have to wait until I return. Given my level of fame, could a White House dinner invite be in the works? Fleischer has my phone number. I'm certainly not calling him.