Capitalizing on my 15 minutes of “fame”… here goes nothing.

PHOENIXSUNSPHAN GOES TO D.C.

Imagine if you will, that I choose under my own volition to actually go to D.C and leave the sunswept warmth of the lower Sonoran desert.  Imagine if you will, that I go back to that cold place and just so I can walk down Penn to drink a pitcher of any beer that will get me buzzed at Hawk n’ Dove.

I walk into Hawk n’ Dove and see an old Democratic friend of mine we’ll call “Ty”.  (For any colloquial “jargon” you might not understand in the conversation below, please refer to UrbanDictionary.com.  But be careful, for example “blood” actually means “fam” but not “fam” as in “family” in the literal sense, but in a metaphysical sense.)

Ty:      Whattup blood?
PSP:    What are you “gangsta” now that your boss is “The One”?  You’re still a tool.
Ty:     Shut up, dude.
PSP:    Yeah, like that’s always worked.  Did you order?
Ty:    Yeah,  Bud Light.
PSP:    Word.
Ty:       Fa’sho.
PSP (rolls eyes):  Hey – who’s the turtlehead sitting there eye-stalking the girl at the bar?
Ty:      Turtlehead?  What are we on – some “Austin Powers” s***?  At least use a “Superbad” reference so you’re in the same decade.  That’s some blogger dude, PSP, he lives on my block.
PSP:     Really, I never knew “turtlehead” belonged to the vocabulary of only one generation.  I assumed “turtlehead” was cross-generational.
Ty:      Shut up.
PSP:     Anyway, who is that dude?… I think I know him.  He looks kinda DB-ish.
Ty:    Dude writes for some conservative blog.
PSP:    Nah, that doesn’t qualify him as a DB – though the majority of L.A.’s general population would challenge that assumption.  I know that dude from somewhere.  He used to stuff his face with chicken tenders in the LHOB cafeteria.  Also saw him in ill-fitting seersucker suits trying to pick up on (former Senator) Lott’s staff assistants when I used to go “chill” Senate-side.  What’s up with his pants?  Are those knitted sperm whales on his pants, bro?
Ty:    Who “chills” Senate-side?  And you’re calling me a tool?  (Ty shakes his head.) Those are BB pants, you know that.  Dude lives in a basement right next to Senator ____ ‘s house.
PSP:    Ty, check it out – he’s getting up to go talk to her.

Ty and I watch DB-Blogger as he  gets up and starts talking to a very attractive blonde.  She looks like she was a cheerleader, definitely belonged to a top-notch sorority.  She’s THAT staff-assistant you see working for an old Southern Republican (preferably Alabama or Mississippi).  Totally out of DB-Blogger’s league.

Somehow DB-Blogger buys her a drink.  Starts talking about who he works for (a popular conservative blog) and who he knows.  Does the boilerplate “I’m cool because my work defines me here in D.C.” speech to show-off to the girl.  She keeps ordering drinks on his tab.  Smart girl.

Ty:      You listening to this s***, PSP?
PSP:     Dude, how would this guy do back home with your sister’s friends in  _______ Chicago?
Ty:    Man, he a herb, fa real. (If you don’t understand that… ask yourself:  how sheltered were you as a child?)

After what seems like forever, DB-Blogger pays the tab (the girl probably got three or four drinks off him – which is a whole psychological analysis in itself.)  DB-Blogger walks by me and Ty.  I try to avoid eye contact, but DB-Blogger stops and says to me:

DB-Blogger:  Don’t I know you?
PSP (faking a heavy Slavic accent):  What?  (pointing to myself) Czech.  Ceska!  You are who?
DB-Blogger:  (Gives me the name of a blogger I don’t like)
(Ty is almost busting up from laughing)
PSP:    I from Praha… Prague in englisch.  U like the Europe?
DB-Blogger:      Sorry, you look like someone I know.
(NOTE:  For the blessed few who know who I really am, they know that I’ve done this to people before.  This ain’t fake, and if you don’t believe me, let’s throw down Cynthia McKinney-style.)

He leaves.
I totally held my accent.  With the determination of a  Borat.  DB-Blogger exits Hawk n’ Dove.

Girl:      That wasn’t nice.
(The girl DB-Blogger hit on was talking to me and Ty!  We’re so freakin’ cool now!)
PSP:    Who is he?  Isn’t he a blogger?
Girl:      Yeah, he works for ______.  I’m a Dem, so I couldn’t give a s***.
Ty (picking up on her accent):  You from New York City?
Girl:      Yeah… Queens actually – Forest Hills.
(Why would you admit you’re from Queens?)
PSP:      Let me ask you – I know that guy.  I think he’s a DB…
(Notice I didn’t do the D.C.“who do you work for?” mandatory question – that’s Phoenix for you.)
Girl:      That’s harsh.
PSP:     No, harsh is ordering four drinks on his tab knowing he had no chance with you from the moment you saw him, but he deserved it.  He was a reporter for a trade paper before… what did you think of him?  Be honest.
Girl:      I don’t know – reporters, bloggers or whatever – they’re kinda nerdy.  They think they’re important, but it’s kind of like high school.  They need social validation.  Some guy that worked for the Post (call out!) was the same way, I went on a couple dates with him.  They’re kind of like nerds with power.
Ty (really loud):    PSP – you blog, don’t you?
PSP (rolls eyes):    Yeah, thanks for the call out, a**hole.
Ty:      Nerd.  She just herbed you and you didn’t even know it.
PSP:    Who says “herbed” anymore?  I thought that was played out. (A really bad comeback, I know.)

Ty keeps laughing at me.  The girl leaves.  We talk b-ball.  Maybe the Bulls and the Suns will do better this season.

I have a couple drinks, go to an appointment on the Hill for some super-secret crap I’m doing, and grab an afternoon flight on the “John McCain Express” from Reagan National.  I get a text from an acquaintance in D.C. The text went something like “when are you going to visit us in D.C.?”

I kinda just did, but I text back:  “I dunno.  Is there a job-opening in your office?  I am experienced at answering phones, filling out flag orders and can give Capitol tours.”  She responds with a “Shut up, dork.”  I ignore her.

C’est la vie.  I get a Google Alert on my CrackBerry.  DB-Blogger just posted a piece on his site.  It’s his solution for saving the GOP.  He’s written some multi-point plan about it.

DB-Blogger is gonna save the GOP?  I shake my head and order a screwdriver from the flight attendant.  It’s a four and half hour flight home.

THIS STORY HAS A MORAL, GANGSTA

I knew a lawyer in Congress (when I worked in D.C.) that these ignoramus bloggers would probably consider a “traditionalist.”  This woman was probably the brightest, sharpest, and one of the most intelligent people I had ever met let alone worked with.  Her analytical acumen was second to none.  Working on issues with her was like reworking my brain, she challenged me to break down stuff (I can’t tell you about what I did, because I signed a document), into logical strings – Boolean operands – FORTRAN!  I was almost talking in C++ language (this is all “nerdspeak”- what?  You got mad ish with dat?  You wanna box me?  You got that crazy look in your eyes – don’t make me play out Cynthia McKinney references…  I’ll meet you by the old oak tree).  But she was THAT smart.  Had I stayed in D.C., my brain probably would have been rebooted and I would have been better because of it.  Instead, I write the occasional blog post under an uninspired pseudonym.

Accuse me of brown-nosing, but I’d take her “traditionalist” analysis of what the GOP should do ANYDAY over DB-Blogger and the DB-Rightosphere’s suggestions.  Take some time and think about it – or like Biggie Smalls (can we have a moment of silence?) said:

“…let it marinate.”

Address all hate mail to FamousDC.

-PhoenixSunsPhan