As Yul put it, "When one does not know what to say, it is time to be silent."

More serious office gossip. As with before, I'm not going to elucidate here...and it's not as blockbuster as the last time, but it's still big.

Oh, man. I just started to read one of the best non-hard-news articles in the Post. Ever. Definitely in the top ten for all time. Here it is. Let's roll the tap on some of the juicer moments looking back at the farce that's STILL GOING ON in the Senate right now.

7:05 -- Downstairs, in the Mansfield Room, the Democrats are holding a pep rally for supporters, some of whom wear T-shirts that read: "We Confirmed 98% of Bush's Judges And All We Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt." Pumping his pasty fist into the air, Ted Kennedy bellows, "We are not going to be a rubber stamp for right-wing ideological judges." Democrats hand out a "Fili-Bingo" board game and a mock children's book called "Republican Senators and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night." There's also a box billed as a "Care Package for Courageous Senators." Its contents include coffee, candy bars, a copy of the Constitution and Pepto-Bismol tablets that are said to counteract the nausea induced by Republican rhetoric.

7:45 -- On the Senate floor, Richard Durbin (D-Ill.) denounces this marathon as a "Let's all get together and hold our breath and turn blue for 30 hours" session.

9:08 -- Hatch argues that the Democrats' opposition to Bush nominees "all comes down to abortion." His voice is getting raspier. Now he sounds like Captain Beefheart. He says the Democrats are "treating the president like dirt."

You have to read the whole thing entitled, properly, "The Filibluster". Damn good reporting. And the last two paragraphs sum up the whole perspective, from a Capitol Hill police officer, in the best way possible. I'd reprint his statement here but then you wouldn't read the article, now would you. And you need to. The whole thing.

After an enjoyable (if chilly) afternoon break with Fincher (a pity these not-so-impromptu occasions will have to end shortly) I got a call from Deborah who invited me to spend my Thursday evening...literally, for I tossed several bucks down. The fact that she left me, shivering in the cold for almost twenty minutes while she drove around DC I'll pass over. And she says she's never seen 'The Game'. For shame, Deborah, for shame. Thankfully, we had an excellent time notwithstanding, and I warmed up shortly after she arrived.

Oh, ignore the title.

A friend pointed out to me something yesterday which leads to a larger problem I haven't really thought that much about over the past two years, mainly because it wasn't an important focus.

When I built the website, I had a concrete set of ideas in mind. I added the blog section to the news section almost as an afterthought, but mainly because I knew it would force Brad and Helena to post regularly. Man, was I wrong. In addition, being part of the news section, I assumed we'd mostly post news items from around the web that we found interesting. That, obviously, failed.

So we're left with a series of blog posts, mostly from YT. (Oh, Brad, btw, the guy didn't back you up at Trivia Night...he backed you up two parties ago. And, yes, marriage was the broken promise.) This means that there exists an inverse relationship between the number of people reading the site and the candor I exhibit on it. At the beginning, hardly anyone read anything. So I could be brutally honest. Even now, I hardly know who checks out the site, but I'm really only concerned (in this argument) about those people who I know. If some person from Australia goes to the website, I'm sure nothing I say will be about them.

If, on the other hand, I mention some friends here in the district, chances are, that I might start to talk about people who read the site. That introduces the problem: should I be honest or should I be the lying flatterer I play on tv every day? It's a fine line to tread and I'm not sure where I come down it. For now, I'm trying to be as honest as possible. If people are offended, they should remember that their discomfort is necessary in order for me to be truthful. Plus, they can always e-mail me. With that said, I can think of specific instance where I held back on details because of their personal nature. So there are exceptions to the rule.

Easterblog. I never like Gregg E's ridiculous "George Bush is good for the environment and did I mention I hate the space shuttle?" shtick. But by comparind Dean, who's raising small amount of cash to 43, by perversely claiming that Dean is more of a "sell out" is beyond any sort of logic. G.E. even notes that Dean hasn't "sold out yet" but that he might in the future. How? No examples, of course. Maybe Gregg doesn't realize that Dean already claims to be doing the will of the people, namely, by supporting positions that benefit John and Jane Doe over rich corporations. Sheesh. Why TNR kept this idiot on their salary is beyond me...of course, they keep Andy "I Hate Liberals" Sullivan on as well.

This article in Salon is a perfect example of why I support nuclear power. Whenever I get into a religious war with my green friends, I argue that replacing every coal factory with a nuclear one would be good for America.

"But what about that nuclear waste?" they always respond.

Look, obviously, nuclear waste is a problem. But with today's technology, we can guarantee that waste will be save for the next couple thousand years. More importantly, however, is that the nuclear boogeyman is well established in American's minds. If even the tiniest problem were to occur with the storage of nuclear waste, every single newspaper and radio station and television channel would be focused on it, forcing administration officials to be extra careful. In addition, the combination of federal subsidies and scare tactics virtually require strict regulation of the nuclear industry for the years to come. But what about coal?

Read the article. But to put it simply: the Bush administration easily covered up a heinous accident which most people never heard of to begin with. Add in the obvious fact that coal production and burning pollutes the air, causing more people to die each year than in the entire history of nuclear power in America, and you realize that coal is setting this country back in so many ways it makes my head spin. Yes, ideally, we'd just use solar and wind power. But the next two technologies, namely, hydro power and nuclear power, have two vast differences that make nuclear power better. Everyone assumes that hydro power is "green" while nuclear is "dirty" when in fact, hydro power forces the construction of costly dams that silt up rapidly, disrupting our nation's water system, while nuclear produces some hot water in existing lakes. Plus, the problem of nuclear waste is not one we can ignore. Clearly, some solution needs to be offered for long term storage for existing nuclear waste. Once that solution is in place, it only makes sense to stop polluting our air and water with coal and to move to a cleaner technology.

Okay, enough ranting.

So in a weird moment, through some musings I made at kicking ass, an old high-school friend found my e-mail address. It is the 21st century and all, but still, I hadn't spoken with this person in about seven years. A long time; over a fourth of my life, in fact. In the interim, she went to grad school, got married and relocated temporarily to Hawaii. Compare that to my performance: I got a nice job. Yeah. Whoa.

Over the course of a few e-mails, she let me know that she's actually returning to the city, so that's cool. I guess I just assume that people drop out of sight and you never see them again. I don't think I've ever reconnected with someone over a gap of time this large. Of course, she could actually stay in Hawaii with the hubby and never return...but the thought of chilling out with her is still intriguing. Luckily, she's as gregarious as me, so conversations wouldn't be difficult.

That's the real problem...those people you don't ever want to see again and then you run into them on the street and thank your lucky stars that you can claim you have an urgent appointment to run to. This person definitely doesn't fall into that category, thankfully.

Oh, Brad, since the usual naming convention isn't being deployed here, let me just say that she used to drive a nice car sans gunracks. And I guess she lied to you, all things considered.

Technically, I guess, my earlier post was made this morning.

Regardless, today kind of flew by, due to a server crash in the morning, me running disgustingly late, and some users being annoyed at my absence. Oh, well. It's tough to get motivated to get up when it's cold and rainy outside. And hell, I'm actually still here at work (I took an hour break for some dinner and to get my watch repaired at Pentagon City and to pick up some needed supplies for the house) trying to knock out an idiotic problem involving the backup.

In case you were buried under a rock Dean scored some major labor endorsements today, blah, blah, blah. I'm increasingly irritated by the large gap between friends my age (who are excited about Dean) and friends just a few years older and wiser (who seem to irrationally hate Dean) and I'm not sure how to deal with it. At work, at least, I keep my head down and my mouth shut when it comes to stuff like this, but it bothers me that I have to be circumspect here. That's one of the major reasons I left the usda, namely, that I was tired of the politicals thinking I was a Republican just because I acted professional and wore a tie every day to work.

The major disconnect, of course, is that the CW among the old-school Dem pols is that Bush will have $200 million to bat around the winner of the primary and for some reason, Dean is super-vulnerable because "he's so liberal" to this assault. This premise is flawed in a couple ways, the most obvious being that if the problem is a lack of funds with which to combat Bush, Dean is the only guy who has shown success at raising large sums of money. Two, Dean isn't liberal at all.

What with Veteran's Day and all, I was a little delayed from describing the weekend festivities.

In a nutshell, Deborah asked me some time ago to go back to my college's homecoming. I said sure, not really thinking about it. Then we she moves to town next week, she says "Hey, we're still going to Homecoming, right?" and I respond "You haven't reserved a hotel room already have you?" thinking that no one could be that organized. Apparently, I was wrong.

Despite having multiple plans, I technically had said yes to her earlier, and since finding a hotel room in the purple valley close to homecoming is an exercise in frustration, I figured I had to go. I hadn't gone last year, so I figure I was due. And since the absence of the car, I haven't been on too many road trips (excluding ones with Leto, of course!) so I was hungry for some long driving action.

We roll out of town Friday afternoon and head up 95, hitting toll after toll after toll all while horrible traffic has slowed our approach to a crawl. It was fun to be on the road, burning up the miles the way I used to do several times a year. At one point we went through about eight different cassettes of Deborah's old radio show looking for a particular song which we never found incorporating an amusing moment from college when I made a request by showing up at the station with a cd and told her to play track 17, which was unmarked. It's a great song, by the way. But we never heard it in the car and it took several hours just to ascertain what song it was. (I used some of that time to completely unwind one tape whose tracks had been flipped over and fixed it, a process I wouldn't wish on my enemies.

Finally we arrive in town, much too late to meet some friends (whom I'd promised to see that evening) and without adequate cell service for me to apologize. So we crash, then the next morning head to the Stop-N-Shop for supplies for the big game. The combination of homecoming and the Amherst game was a nice touch this year. Losing to Amherst really, really stinks.

So my friends that I was supposed to see the previous evening are at Stop-N-Shop that morning, and I stupidly say hi without asking them where they're tailgating. I mean, it's not that big a school and there's a limited number of parking spots. How hard could it be to find them?

Two hours later, after carting around several cases of food and spirits, I'm completely dog tired. The game has almost started, when we finally happen upon my friends who've decided, perversely, to park near the Amherst side of things. Doh! But the grilling is good and a few choice cuts of meat later, I'm in heaven, chatting up some old...er...younger cycling guys while chomping down as much food and drink as I can. I didn't get the chance to see much of the game , but we ended up winning 14-10.

Did I mention that my old JA is getting a divorce from his wife? The same wife whom I helped him meet in the first place? Basically, as a freshman, the college ran out of regular faculty advisors and so I (and three other people) got assigned this lady who worked in the admissions office. When I spoke about her to my Junior Advisor, he said "Oh, that hot lady?" or something like that. Next thing I know the two are dating. Then they tie the know (and I get no invite!!!) and yet now it's no more. A pity, really.

The traditional homecoming dilemna, of course, is dinner. After a lengthy day of eating and drinking and screaming at evil Amherst players, you need to unwind with friends. Making plans before one goes up is silly, because you never know who you'll see at the game. Most of the people we knew had already done that, though, at a new Indian restaurant. In Williamstown. Right. Like I'm going to eat at some overpriced ethnic food establishment when I live in DC. Skip that.

So we end up rolling back to the lab again, doing a little digesting while watching the absurdly idiotic "Rich Girls" show on MTW. (No, not that green-acres-meets-paris-hilton show....the ugly-millionaire-girl-and-hot-tommy-hilfiger-daughter-hang-out show.) It just goes to show that it doesn't matter how much money you have...insanely rich stupid people still fawn over insanely stupid but beautiful people all the time. And everyone gets hurt. Watching some guy who's super-wealthy say on national television "I never cry...you know me...I'm the guy who doesn't cry ever!" to explain why he's crying about the fact that he showed up an hour late to some uber-trendy party is really sucks your energy out of you.

We jump in the vehicle, wishing MTV showed videos instead of crap, catch the first fifteen minutes of the lunar eclipse, pick up some friends and head up to Bennington. Once there we disembark, check the moon again, roll into a mexican food place, watch the women flirt with the bartender, make small talk, check the moon again, attempt to explain why it's red once it's totally black, roll back in, sit down, stuff our faces, roll out. Did I mention that one of the women I hadn't seen since two years ago at a previous homecoming, during which event I managed to break apart her engagement? Basically, the girl was dating a total clod and at the football game he wasn't advanced enough to progress beyond conversing in monosyllabic grunts to me which his fiance took badly. Evidently I didn't help matters out (but it was HIS fault, remember, for being boring!) and she dumped the guy. I wonder if she kept the ring? So I stupidly ask her how her social life is going these days...way to go, Edward! Open mouth, insert foot.

It turns out she's got some emotions issues. Who knew?

Deborah, for all her charms, does seem to attract a certain subset of friends who complain about silly problems. Luckily, most of them are her friends, not mine. Lucky for them, that is, because if they were my friends I'd slap them upside the head and knock some sense into them.

Life, it often appears to me, is smooth. You just have to move into the flow and everything works out...case in point later.

So that night was fun, and I spend most of Sunday driving back in time to crash at my house. Oh, wait. I had intended to catch up on my sleep, but one of my housemates points out that the drain is clogged in the upstairs bathroom. Insert two hours of mindless chemical and mechanical labor, all with the stated goal of getting the drain unclogged. I finally emerge, sweaty and sleep-deprived, to claim victory despite the clog not being fully removed. It's much better now, but not perfect by any means. I claw my way up to bed and collapse. A minute later said housemate knocks on my door and asks if we can turn on the heat for the first time this fall. I say sure, and activate it after removing all the various objects stored on the radiators. I crash back on my bed and kill the lights, a fan blowing warm air across the metal tubes and keeping my room toasty.

At least until three in the morning, when the power goes out.

Too tired to care, I don't call Pepco. I think that it's probably a block thing and they'll get it back on. Silly rabbit. At seven when I awaken again, the power is still out. So I have hot water, sure, but no lights. Ever try to shave in the dark? It's not a pretty sight.

Bloodied and busied, Monday is a hellish day of just getting caught back up, work-wise, from the few hours I missed Friday afternoon for leaving early. Evidently one of my co-workers complained that I wasn't around. Thanks. Screw you too. But midway through the madness, Sean sends me an e-mail asking if I want to do some trivia at a restaurant just around the corner from work. I say sure.

Trivia's a little weird, but I've only done it two other times and it was fun. The best part is simply naming your team, and since we wanted it to be in honor of Veteran's Day, we decided to call the team the "Veterans of the Texas Air National Guard" which went over well with everyone but the conservative couple. And who cares what they think, right? (On a side note, I actually do like the two conservatives in question, the man because he backed up Brad once, the woman because she's southern-sensible, and that's always attractive in a persoon. After an abridged five rounds, we end up getting second place, which was cool. We won some t-shirts and glasses, although I think I left my glass somewhere. Some idiot decided to order some additional brain-cell-killing beverages right before we left, which wasn't good. Luckily I scored a ride to Ben's with two of the people, and the chili-cheese-fries love more than negated the effects of the earlier imbibement. Nicely, the power was back on at the house when I crawled back in after 3:30 in the AM.

Today I celebrated our veteran's quietly, watching a war movie first before rolling over to g-town to catch an uber-chich-flick with a couple of co-workers that turned out to be...an uber-chick-flick. Go figure. The only reason I went was to build back my social points with a co-worker who has a super-hot friend that I can't ask about because I stood up the co-worker in question for a speech we were supposed to attend on Sunday. I was in transit, at the time, so I told her well in advance, but it was still annoying, mainly because her friend is very, very cool in addition to being attractive and smart and a stylish dresser. So I'm recovering my bonus brownie points with a goal in mind.

Finally I roll over to Fincher's pad post-dinner with said co-worker, where I proceed to do absolutely nothing of any value save for catching the latest 24 episode. 24 this year is quite good. Everyone should be watching it. We covered several nice stories, although I wish I had devoted less time to Fincher's Housemate (no nice nick yet, eager people!) simply out of malevolence for her last stellar move. To be brief: Fincher and I wished to get sushi, The Omnipresent Housemate asked if we could bring something back...we played our cards close to the vest, the Housemate whined, we asked if she wanted to join us, the Housemate accepted. So far, so good. Of course, the Housemate failed to mention that she doesn't like either fish or rice before we went to a sushi place. Grr. Regardless, she's now out of the doghouse, I suppose. Everything gets resolved in time. As I mentioned earlier, the trick to everything is to simply figure out how to get into the flow of stuff. My movie and dinner plans segued nicely to the post-dinner chat with Fincher and Housemate and then I jetted out to catch the U St. "Link" Bus for a mean quarter dollar, courtesy Fincher herself.

It was at this moment that it:

1. began to rain
2. became evident that the Link was nowhere to be found

And for a brief moment I doubted whether my unassailable luck had run out, whether the currents had shifted. I walked across the bridge when I noticed the link right behind me. Nice. I hop aboard, pop in my quarter and ride home, by which point the rain has let up somewhat, allowing me to walk to final block to my house in dry fashion. As I said before, everything always resolves itself. You just have to accept that things may not be resolved in the manner in which you imagined them to be.

So now I'm home, typing out a few words before the end. Back to work tomorrow, in this abridged week.

'werkz advice: see it in the theatre for matinee prices, or not at all.

I won't spend too long describing the latest chapter of the Matrix, except to say that I went in with low expectations and it exceeded them, if only because of a non-saccharine sweet ending.

The simplest way to describe the failure of "Matrix Revolutions" is to describe what it lacks that the other two movies had, namely, the Matrix itself. In this go-around, few of the cool characters from the second movie appear, and the few scenes inside the Matrix itself don't seem real at all. (The first, a nightclub scene in which no one appears to be normal, the second, the ultimate fight scene between Neo and Agent Smith, in which there are no bystanders again.)

All the cool questions raised in the second about the Architect are glossed over, as is an incongruous scene attempting to explain how Neo can manipulate reality itself. In fact, no questions are answered except the one everyone wanted to know from the beginning: would the third Matrix live up to the first one. That, in an answer, is no.

A busy weekend. A busy day. Plenty of stories to relate, although I'm off for some post-work festivities first. More later...