Well, still coming down from all of the nail-biting freakout that circles around the production of a book. Now sitting around, powerless, still nail-biting, waiting for inventory to arrive at the distribution center. I remain convinced that something will fuck …
Nixon was easy. We could go anywhere, really, but James had been talking about the 600 at Watergate South, which wasn’t really the sort of place where we belonged…but they had a full bar. We somehow managed to get in …
Back to DC. It was bourbon at the Hotel Washington for Eisenhower. I don’t know the connection, but I’m sure it seemed logical at the time. I also couldn’t tell you where we ended up for Truman, but a deep …
“Thirty.” James said. “Coolidge.” “Notable points?” “None.” “Really?” “Really.”
Twenty-eight. Wilson. The First World War. We ended up in Silver Spring, Maryland, at the Quarry House. None of us could remember how that happened, but it did, and so we made the best of it. Energy was flagging all …
At Jaleo, the next president was easy for James. Twenty-six was Teddy Roosevelt, and as soon as I said the name James was on his feet. “Parks! Woodley Park! The Zoo Bar!”
We were in Chadwick’s, Georgetown, and still on Heineken. Like every bar in Georgetown, there was a pervasive atmosphere of evil and inhumanity. “Twenty.” James said into his bottle. “Um…” “Uh-oh!” “Oh, Garfield.”
James leaned close to my ear: “Fifteen?” “Buchanan.” “Penn State. Single.” “Yep.” “Singles club?” “No. Please.” “Pennsylvania Avenue?” “701. Mo’s Bar.” James leaned back. “Expensive.” “Yep. You’re paying.”
“This is life in Washington, DC: Moo! I am a cow!” “What?” “Moo! Cows live in DC!” My old college buddy James was on the floor, under the table, screaming over the oppressive jukebox and pounding the underside of the …
I’ve managed to avoid three Obama “victory parties” so far. The only thing that scares me more than the Nazis who follow McCain are the wild-eyed armchair liberals who rally around Obama’s “message” of hope and change. Which is how …