Idyllic autumnal Vermont scene.
It's 1AM as I start this entry, but I have a few hours of work to do making some final edits to a peer review report. Actually, I may just go to bed as soon as I'm done this entry and get up earlier than usual and work on it. I'm not actually taking the train (see below) until 220PM from Union Station.
Yours truly at Stoney's the other night having a late dinner, Washington, D.C., 11:27PM January 9, 2017.
Presently, I'm cooking a (very) late dinner (steak, steamed broccoli, and jasmine rice) and waiting for four loads of laundry to be done. I suspect two of the loads won't fully dry -- which, if I have to spend another $2 each will mean that this little laundry episode cost $20 rather than the usual $16.
As an update before I post this entry, I didn't have to re-dry anything so it was just $16.
Nighttime office view overlooking 395 and part of Southwest Washington, D.C., 6:59PM January 10, 2017.
This is a very melancholy view, especially in the winter time, that I kept looking upon last Thursday night when my mom told me that Ray was dying, when I first called Debbie to let her know that something very bad was happening, and when my mom texted me to say that Ray had died.
Earlier, I was at the gym and got in the bulk of my usual multi-part workout ending with a swim. Tomorrow, I'm not going into the office but instead on the MARC train to Odenton to meet my mom and Debbie. Ray's funeral is this Friday. It is going to be a terribly sad event. As I have mentioned, I am so glad that Debbie (Ray's daughter and my stepsister) is with my mom this month.
Of note, my dad sent me $300 -- unprompted -- as a gift for the $300 that I gave to Debbie (or rather, gave to her housemate down in Laredo (Texas) as per portion of the January rent).
Chinatown, downtown Washington, D.C., 8:59PM January 10, 2017.
There is always a nighttime touch of Blade Runner -- as in Los Angeles, November 2019 -- to this intersection of 7th and H Streets NW. I was there because I met up with Kevin last night after work at Fado.
There's a lot I'd like to write about tonight -- including what amounts to the first bona fide political crisis for Donald Trump -- but I can't do that right now. So no discussion right now of KGB's "kompromat" on Donald Trump to include business dealings with Russian oligarchs, his nebulous finances, his possible indirect interactions with Vladimir Putin's people on the hacked DNC/Podesta emails to undermine Hillary Clinton and, of course, the salacious sex rumors involving Russian prostitutes.
Regarding that last point, this blog is strictly a no golden shower zone. (To be clear, I don't actually believe this allegation BUT neither would it shock me if it were true.)
Jackpot bar, Washington, D.C., 9:16PM January 10, 2017.
Kevin took me to this subterranean bar called Jackpot in Chinatown after we left Fado. It was somewhere between D.C. millennial and hipster. Not really my kind of place but after years of showing people places in D.C. that they had never seen, it's nice to have someone who is showing me so many places I had never seen (or would be likely to see).
If you want to read the BuzzFeed story that sent Trump into a manic twitter meltdown with accusations that we are living in "Nazi Germany," see here, and if you want to read the actual 35-page unsubstantiated dossier, see here.
The New York Times has a good overview and analysis piece on the whole story.
CityCenterDC, Palmer Alley, Washington, D.C., 9:44PM January 10, 2017.
Trump's angry, combative, and generally unhinged press conference (his first as president-elect) held at Trump Tower in New York this Wednesday was nothing short of unprecedented in a highly abnormal and more than a little scary way.
Donald Trump gestures at his press conference on January 11, 2017.
Of course, today's radicalized rightwing GOP doesn't care since Trump is their vehicle to get their corporate fascist-theocratic "libertarian" dystopia in place. The GOP will turn on Trump only when he no longer has political support from the working class white proletariat whose votes the party needs to win elections in gerrymandered districts and through the that vestigial slave state construct of the Electoral College.
The Washington Post building as seen from Franklin Square, Washington, D.C., 9:59PM January 10, 2017.
The old Post building was torn down last year and is now a giant construction site for some new ginormous office building or maybe a set of buildings. Also, it was rather cold last night -- especially early on before it got milder -- and Franklin Square was actually devoid of homeless people. I don't think I've ever actually previously seen that.
The part that so galls me is how James Comey tipped the outcome of the election just enough to allow Trump the appalling Electoral College win by reopening the bullshit Hillary email story 11 days before the actual election -- but refused to budge on anything involving a foreign adversary meddling in the American national election through cyber-espionage and leaking with the purpose of putting (as a TPM commenter said), a "compromised asset" -- and a deeply unbalanced one at that -- as into the Office of the Presidency.
And it worked.
Trade, Washington, D.C., 10:33PM January 10, 2017.
I had a nice chat with Bishop Charlie before I headed home.
OK, that's all for now. My intention is to post an entry tomorrow night from my mom's place. As for the weather, briefly, it's a damp, mild night following some light rain earlier. Temps are around 50F (and a dew point nearly to match) at the 2AM hour.
"Newhart" opening title card
Right now, I'm watching the late night line up of 1980s / early 1990s sitcoms on Antenna TV. (I don't have cable but I get the local affiliate of Antenna TV.) At present, Newhart is on (not to be confused with the Bob Newhart Show of the 1970s).
The show is pretty damn funny (especially with Bob Newhart as the deadpanning straight man foil to all the oddballs always around him), and I love the Vermont setting and the Henry Mancini-themed opening featuring idyllic Vermont countryside setting. (Of note, Bob Newhart is still alive -- he's 87. He even has a website.)
OK, signing off for now. G'night.