DC: where innocence goes to die

in more ways than one.

Does your mayor crowdsurf?

if you answered "yes", congratulations! you live in minneapolis.

congress: who killed tupac?

H.R. 4210: "To provide for the expeditious disclosure of records relevant to the life and death of Tupac Amaru Shakur." a bill introduced in the house sponsored by rep. cynthia mckinney (D-GA).

update: at 22 pages long, this bill is a marvel you must behold for yourself:

Sense of Congress- It is the sense of the Congress that--

(1) the Attorney General should assist the Archivist in good faith to unseal any records that the Archivist determines to be relevant and held under seal by a court or under the injunction of secrecy of a grand jury;

(2) the Secretary of State should contact any other foreign government that may hold information relevant to the life and death of Tupac Amaru Shakur to seek the disclosure of such information, and report on progress on these matters to the Archivist in a timely fashion; and

(3) all Executive agencies should cooperate in full with the Archivist to seek the disclosure of all information relevant to the life and death of Tupac Amaru Shakur, consistent with the public interest.

call your congressman!

is my office director a four-year-old in a forty-five year-old's body a la tom hanks in big?

today we examine that pressing metaphysical question on everyone's mind: is my office director a four-year-old in a forty-five-year-old's body a la Tom Hanks in 20th Century Fox's 1988 classic, "Big" ?

let us begin with a disclaimer. i have no evidence to suggest that she has a) ever lived in or around new york's five boroughs, b) visited coney island amusement park*, or c) inserted the necessary exact change into the correct slot of Zoltar's wish-granting machine and stated her wish accordingly, thereby prompting the granting of her wish within a 12 hour period to be decided by Zoltar alone. in her defense, she was born in alabama, far from new york city, and now resides in the district of columbia. best i can tell, her idea of fun is two-fold, neither of which involves amusement parks or genie-bots: 1. leaving work daily for two hours for the express purpose of watching her 2:00pm soap opera, and 2. making my job as bone-crunchingly maddening as humanly possible --though to her credit, she executes both of these with the finesse of a well-oiled serengeti gazelle. further proof that she has not received favors from Zoltar is evidenced by her technological comprehension, which is roughly akin to that of australopithecus robustus. having said that, is my office director a four-year-old in a forty-five-year-old's body a la Tom Hanks in 20th Century Fox's 1988 classic, "Big" ? Let the grand jury convene--i present the following evidence:

1. Do four-year-olds engage in baby talk?:
Yes, on occasion.

Do forty-year-olds engage in baby talk?:
No, except perhaps during intercourse or when mocking a enemy.

My office director speaks in baby talk several times daily, often in meetings with business and industry representatives, and with an upper register heretofore achieved by mariah carey only.

2. Do forty-year-olds drop all pending business when olfactory nerves sense the nearby presence of edible sustinence?:
Only starving ones, or ones training for competitive eating competitions.

Do four-year-olds drop all pending business when olfactory nerves sense the nearby presence of edible sustinence?:
"Mommy. Ice cream! Now!"

My office director once cancelled a meeting because she smelled a coworker's hot porkchop lunch. she is convincingly overweight and is clearly in no immediate risk of starvation. Though i would fully endorse such a career change, to my knowledge she does not eat competitively in any organized way.

3. Do four-year-olds have a defined sense of shame?
I once saw a smiling four-year-old kid run screaming naked from the girl's restroom, dirty diaper in hand, and plunge into the country club pool in clear and immediate view of hundreds of innocent bystanders. Shameless.

Do forty-year-olds have sense of shame?
Except for Michael Jackson, yes.

My office director has no sense of shame whatsoever. Every conscious thought is public knowledge. In a staff meeting following the departure of our ex-boss, she announced to us all "I don't care what you do. I want that TITLE and I want that MONEY!" At least twice daily, almost always during meetings, she emits the most bone-chilling, phlegm-encrusted, snort/hack heard by man, producing without fail nausea of varying degrees in all who have the terrible luck to hear. This is followed by a baby-talk "'scuse me!" and accompanying giggle. She eats with both hands. She eats everything. All things.

more news as it develops.

*last known whereabouts of Zoltar