Flea markets: They're not just for women, anymore!

I love flea markets. I have my entire life. There's something I find really appealing about buying something that someone at some point treasured, but has since decided is disposable. The old saying, "One man's trash is another man's treasure" is never so true as when you're wandering through a flea market.

For example, as I type this, there's a really incredible painting I bought at the Georgetown Flea Market a couple of years ago for a relative pittance, hanging on the wall above my computer. I guess the vendor thought she got a good deal. Personally, I think I fleeced the fuck out of her, because of all the paintings I own, it's by far my favorite. There's no date on it, but it appears to be fairly old, and the framing was done by the Veerhoff Galleries, so who knows what hoighty toighty Washington home(s) it hung in before I got it.

There's also something really cool about seeing all the complete and utter crap that's for sale. Crap that vendors literally couldn't pay me to take off their hands, much less, convince me to pay them for the right to do so. But again, what I consider crap, other people consider not crap. Many a time, I've seen someone carrying an object that can best be described as repugnant, and I have to stop myself from saying to them, "Really? That's going in your home?" And yet, they seem happy with it. C'est la vie.

I never actually knew there was anything unusual about a guy enjoying going to yard sales and flea markets until a few years ago when a female friend of mine asked if I wanted to be her "yard sale buddy," because she enjoyed going to them, and her fiancee loathed them. The fiancee seemed indifferent about her spending Saturday and/or Sunday mornings out with another guy, and I quickly realized that as far as he was concerned, "yard sale buddy" meant either "girlfriend" or "gay shopping companion." Since then, I've noticed a distinct lack of enthusiasm from fellow guys were flea markets are concerned.

The two big ones in D.C. are Eastern Market and the Georgetown Flea Market. Eastern Market is fun, but over the past few years, I've noticed that the smaller artists and vendors have seemingly been pushed aside by the bigger, more established--and needless to say, more expensive--ones. Which is a shame. Once, I bought a beautiful painting of Rock Creek Park from a guy who seemed to quite literally be a starving artist. I didn't even have to haggle. I asked him how much it was, figuring it was probably out of my price range, and to my amazement, he said $20. Between the materials and time spent on it, I can't image how this didn't represent a considerable loss for him, but I wasn't going to argue. You just don't see guys like that there anymore. There are certainly some quality artists, but no one whose stuff really excites me.

The Georgetown Flea Market, I hit up almost every Sunday, though. Because unlike Eastern Market, which features mostly furniture dealers, professional artists, and various other crafts merchants, the Georgetown Flea Market is primarily made up of what can best be described as high-end junk dealers.

So it's a great mixture of really nice, really expensive stuff, and there's also a lot of crap and oddities, some of which are expensive, some of which are not. Needless to say, the crap and oddities are the most fun to browse.

If I suggested you pay me money for old cassette tapes, you'd be perfectly justified in slapping me for my arrogance. But at a flea market, it's perfectly fine. I occasionally check such bins for hidden gems. I have yet to actually find any, but I keep looking.


The Georgetown Flea Market: One of the few places in the world where a lovely antique desk and whatever the hell a Spirit Ball is can peacefully co-exist.


A photograph of Harry Truman signed by Roger Moore. No, I'm kidding. It's actually signed by Harry Truman. Any D.C. politicos out there looking to share a genuine West Wing moment with their boss/staffer, tell me this isn't the sort of gift an Aaron Sorkin character would give someone.

"Hey, honey? You know what would look really good in our living room? A portrait of some old guy we don't know."


Is there any more beautiful sight in the world? I don't even buy old comics anymore, but I love the idea of old comics being for sale. Should I ever win the lottery, though, I will eschew giving to charities, and make vendors like this very rich.


The face makes it art. The penis makes it fine art.

A book of old pin-ups and a vintage Alfred Hitchcock board game? Best. Table. In. The. World.


This is a photo I took back in January. Get it? Inaugural balls? At the time, I balked at the $20 price tag, but now I kind of wish I'd gotten one.

Now...men? Tell me you don't want to go to a fucking flea market.

Panel of the Week

From Green Lantern #43:

No, no, no. Just...fucking no.

This is Drafted: One Hundred Days, the latest in a long...long...long...line of comic books to feature President Obama in a blatant attempt to goose sales.

I've already discussed why this trend is a horrible idea. I had no idea it would actually find a way to get even worse.

It's weird. I'd naively figured that if Power Girl's costume couldn't make me embarrassed to read comic books, nothing could. Wow, was I wrong.

Yes, you just saw a panel where Sasha and Malia Obama get disintegrated by an alien attack. All for the sake of dramatic tension in a third-rate comic book from a fourth-rate publisher by a creative team I've never heard of. I mean, if it had to be in there for the sake of the story (and I use that term loosely), did we have to see it? It couldn't have just been implied? Or mentioned in dialogue? This was actually supposed to elicit some sort of emotional response? Other than disgust at the people behind it, I mean.

I like to think that in general, I'm fairly difficult to offend. In fact, I kind of take pride in it. But Jesus fucking Christ.

Marion Barry's dick

I almost feel sorry for Marion Barry. Almost. Not quite. Sort of. But not really.

Still, no man deserves to have his voicemails to a woman recorded and handed over a newspaper for mocking and ridicule. Especially if, as he claims in them, he's freaked out over her ex-husband supposedly threatening him.

Of course, this being Marion Barry, it's entirely possible--likely, even, given the later voicemails--that the ex-husband was legitimately looking out for Donna Watts-Brighthaupt, Barry's girlfriend/paid political crony, by doing what he could to protect her from the crazy, elderly, tax-cheating, drunk driving dude stalking her. Then, the voicemails take on a whole new meaning.

Anyway, it seems pointless to call for Barry to resign (he won't) or for Ward 8 voters to stop giving him a pass because of a summer jobs program he launched 30 years ago and force him out of office (they won't). So instead, I suggest we just look for clues in Barry's rambling, incoherent voicemails to find out exactly what makes him such a love machine.

Here are my favorite Marion Barry lines that I can't wait to try out on women:

"Only thing I’m doing is helping you with your life, I enhance your life..."

"I enhance your life." It's kind of like "You complete me," from Jerry Maguire, only less poetic and more self-aggrandizing.

"Anybody I tell that to be disgusted with you. So wake up, Donna. Come down here and enjoy yourself."

Implying she's disgusting, and then asking her to come down and enjoy herself? Can anyone go from insult to invitation as fast as Marion Barry? No wonder he constantly has a woman on his arm.

"…you need to focus on the fact that the person who is responsible has to step to the plate or get the heck out the way of those of us who want to step to the plate. But I’m not gonna step to the plate as long as the person who’s responsible for getting you into this don’t step to the plate..."

Women. Love. Sports. Metaphors. (The good ones do, anyway.) Granted, maybe not the exact same sports metaphor over and over, but still. Way to woo, Mayor for Life.

"Even if you had your ID you can’t come in, so don’t even come back down here because you part of this conspiracy to hurt me and harm me."

You know, if there was a conspiracy to hurt and/or harm Marion Barry, it's the worst conspiracy ever, because he keeps handing them ammunition, and they're not really doing anything with it.

But I like the idea of putting her on the defensive. Next time a girl dumps me, I'm going to accuse her of being part of a conspiracy to destroy me. And when she denies this, I'll say, "Prove it, don't break up with me." And she'll be trapped by my cunning.

"Don’t call me. I won’t call you. I won’t do anything crazy. I won’t call your mother. I won’t call any friends of yours or mine. I won’t do nothin’. Donna, watch right now. I’m gonna be off the radar screen. You oughtta take me off your radar screen. And you go about caring about yourself and you go about workin’. Put this to bed."

Next time I break up with a girl (admittedly, a rare occurance), and every break-up thereafter...this is going to be my break-up speech, word-for-word. I'm even going to leave "Donna" in there, even though chances are my girlfriend's name probably won't be Donna.

If nothing else, it'll soften the blow of getting dumped by me, as she realizes what a complete nutcase I am.

"Donna, you don’t have to answer your home phone but let me just say that I’m addicted to you."

And this will be how I try and win her back. (Still calling her Donna, even though it's not her name.)

And just like Marion Barry, I'll probably be accused of stalking. For good reason!

My Superheroic Mayoral Endorsement

This almost strikes me as the sort of thing a junior high class would do in order to learn about politics, but because it features D.C. and comic book characters, I kind of dig it. (Even though the last time superheroes and politics mixed, it wasn't pretty.)

The New Organizing Institute, a "progressive advocacy and campaign training program focused on cutting-edge online organizing techniques" is apparently using fake campaigns for the D.C. mayor's office as a learning tool. And in an attempt to keep things light and fun (and probably so as not to make Fenty paranoid by thinking this might be a real challenge to his reelection, to the point where he brings the full weight of his office down on them, as he has so many of his foes), they're using DC comics superheroes--and Spider-Man, for some reason--as the candidates. The mock election will be held July 10.

Here are the candidates (listed in order of name recognition), as well as links to their campaign sites: Superman, Spider-Man, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Batgirl, the Atom, Batwoman, and Cyborg.

Now, a lesser political and/or comic book blogger would simply say, "Hey, just elect Superman. Duh." But I don't play those kinds of games here in The D.C. Universe. And why not? Because of the D.C. part in the blog's title. The future of this city is just way too important for me to endorse any candidate, even a super one, without a thorough vetting.

So let's run down each candidate, and their qualifications to be mayor.

Superman

On the surface, this is the obvious candidate. He's smart, he's powerful, and he can get things done. If he says D.C. is going to have representation in Congress, you damn well better believe that D.C.'s going to have representation in Congress. I don't just mean a voting House member, either. We're talking a House member and two senators. Maybe four senators.

Also, he has executive experience. Granted, this took place in a story in Action Comics Annual #3, in a possible alternate future timeline in which the Man of Steel became President of the United States. A timeline that admittedly never actually came to pass. But still, I think it counts.

However--and this might just be me being racist--but do we really want an alien running the city? I mean, if he wants to be mayor of a Kryptonian city like Kandor, hey, more power to him. But D.C. is a human city, and it deserves a human mayor. Also, have you seen Metropolis recently? It's constantly getting destroyed by various supervillains who go there to kill Superman. Do we really want that coming here?

Spider-Man

I want to make this perfectly clear: Spider-Man is completely unfit to be mayor.

First of all, can you imagine the indignity of a city named D.C. having a Marvel character as its mayor? Jesus Christ, why don't we just elect fucking Tony Romo?

Second of all, he has serious character issues. You think Mark Sanford is bad? Spider-Man literally made a deal with the devil to make his entire marriage disappear from all existence! True, there might have a couple of extenuating circumstances, but still. This is not an acceptable family values candidate.

Wonder Woman

Heh. A woman mayor. Right. Because that gimmick worked so well with Sharon Pratt Kelly.

Seriously, though, how can D.C. possibly take someone seriously as a politician who struts around in a swimsuit? And while it may not be fair, her looks would just be too distracting. Remember how every straight man in America, Republican or Democrat, wanted to bang Sarah Palin last year? Imagine that, times a thousand.

Green Lantern

On the surface, Green Lantern seems like a good choice. He knows no fear, strong law and order background, and his ring is one of the most powerful weapons in the universe. And I especially like his valiant bust of Marion Barry last weekend.

The problem is, he's not just Green Lantern of D.C. He's not just Green Lantern of the United States. Hell, he's not just Green Lantern of Earth. He's Green Lantern of the entire Sector 2814. We can't have our mayor constantly flying off-world in order to help people who aren't us. Also, you never know when the Guardians of the Universe will send him on a long trip to some remote part of the galaxy to deal with the Manhunters or Sinestro or whatever, and then we'd be stuck with Guy Gardner as mayor.

Batgirl

"Hi, I'm Batgirl. I barely speak any English, and I recently spent some time as a mind-controlled supervillain. Can I be your mayor?" Uh...no.

The Atom

Okay, here's my problem with the Atom: There are two of them, and it's not even clear which one is running.

The Atom most prominently featured on the campaign website is Ryan Choi, the new Atom. BUT, the Atom pictured elsewhere on the site is clearly Ray Palmer, the original Atom (whose ex-wife went crazy and murdered the Elongated Man's wife by shrinking down and walking on her brain, but clearly, that's neither here nor there). So which Atom are we voting for? Until this is resolved, I call shenanigans.

Also, in his YouTube video, the Atom kind of comes off like a know-it-all prick, and after four years of Fenty, I would think we'd want to move away from that.

Batwoman

I can not, and I will not, support a superhero candidate who's stupid enough to put her secret identity in the bio section of her campaign site.

Also, I don't want to start any rumors, but have you ever noticed how you never see Batwoman out with a guy? I'm just saying.

Cyborg

Finally! A candidate I can totally get behind! As anyone who read New Teen Titans back in the day knows, Cyborg was far and away the coolest character in that series. Also, his Super Powers action figure is really rare and goes for a lot of money on eBay, so you know he has to be awesome. And to be perfectly blunt, he's the only African American candidate of the bunch, so you know that gives him a huge advantage in D.C. right there.

Okay, now yes, there was the time he attacked Earth as part of the race known as the Technis with the intention of turning the moon into new world for that species, and it took all of Earth's superheroes to stop him. And yes, he has this really horrible habit of getting blown up, so he'd be unable to serve as mayor for months at a time while he's getting rebuilt at S.T.A.R. Labs.

But come on...should these tiny little details really disqualify him from being mayor? Yes? They should? Really? Sigh...fine.

Okay, well, apparently, I'm unable to endorse any of the candidates. Personally, I'd start a draft Mr. Terrific movement, but I doubt he'd be interested.

So instead, I urge all D.C. residents to email the NOI, and demand they add a real consensus candidate to the ballot.

Someone who has proven himself to be a pillar of the community.

Someone who has unmatched leadership experience, having run organizations ranging from Lexcorp to the Injustice Gang to the Secret Society of Supervillains.

Someone who has executive experience in this timeline.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the next Mayor of the District of Columbia...Lex Luthor!

He's tanned, he's rested, he's ready, and he can't wait to kick a little superhero ass.

Dating for D.C. Dummies: Marion Barry Edition

Date Lab is in the middle of one of it's irritating dull streaks where the couples featured are relatively decent and normal. (Aside from wanting to sign up for Date Lab, anyway.) So instead, let's take a look at the dating and/or stalking habits of D.C.'s Mayor For Life, Marion Shepilov Barry, Jr.

Through a spokeswoman yesterday, Barry called the charges unfounded and asked prosecutors to drop them. Natalie Williams, the spokeswoman, said that Barry feels "betrayed" because of the emotional and financial support he has provided Watts-Brighthaupt, 40, over the years and that he suggested she is unstable. In April, Barry made news after he paid $800 at an auction to buy Watts-Brighthaupt an opera jacket even as he struggled to repay back taxes.

Dude, you're Marion Barry. You don't need to be buying $800...er...opera jackets (okay, I'll show my cultural ignorance, here: what the hell is an opera jacket?) for women, especially when you're in the red already.

Now, I know some will say that the reason a 73-year old ex-felon was able to date a woman over 30 years younger than him in the first place, was precisely because he would do stuff like buy her $800 opera jackets. But I disagree. I think Marion Barry is one of those charismatic older guys who women are just inexplicably drawn to. He didn't have to buy her expensive trinkets. He himself was the expensive trinket.

I guarantee that if it hadn't been for all his legal troubles back in the day (and by "back in the day," I mean as recently as a few weeks ago), he'd routinely be seen out on the town with women young enough to be his granddaughters on his arm.

Williams said Barry and Watts-Brighthaupt met Saturday afternoon for lunch before Barry attended several Fourth of July events. On his way home, Williams said, Barry once again came into contact with Watts-Brighthaupt near the park after they saw each other's vehicles.

I'm going to call bullshit on Barry, here. D.C.'s a small city, but I don't think I've ever just randomly encountered someone else's vehicle before. Now, I don't know if intentionally running into a woman necessarily counts as "stalking" in and of itself, but let's not pretend this was some weird occurrence that happened purely by chance.

Watts-Brighthaupt said she worked on Barry's 2008 council campaign as a paid consultant and they began dating during the Democratic National Convention last summer. She said they broke up three days before his kidney transplant in February. "It was a wonderful, insightful, history-telling experience," she said of their time together.

Dumping a guy three days before his kidney transplant? Man, that's cold. I mean, you have to figure she was the dumper, not the dumpee, right? No guy dumps his girlfriend right before he goes under the knife.

Also, I'll buy "wonderful" and maybe even "insightful." But "history-telling experience"? I don't really think "I dated Marion Barry" carries quite the same weight as, say, "I dated JFK" or "I dated Sidney Portier" does. Not unless she has shockingly awesome stories about the sex or something. (You're welcome for that image.)

Watts-Brighthaupt said she is angered by the accusations Barry's spokeswoman made at the news conference. "I'm not emotionally disturbed. I did not siphon money off him," Watts-Brighthaupt responded. "I've never asked for a thing. I've never asked for a . . . thing -- including the $800 opera coat."

See, this illustrates a really good point for all stalkers to remember, regardless of whether you're an expert like Barry, or just starting out: Always wait until after your alleged victim decides whether or not to press charges before accusing her of being mentally unstable. If he'd just kept his mouth shut, this whole thing would have gone away. But now Barry's in a bit of a pickle. If he's saying she's mentally unstable, and she's saying that Barry actually wasn't following her that night, using Barry's logic, doesn't that mean that he probably was?

Whatever. I guess it doesn't matter. Laws clearly ceased applying to Marion Barry a long time ago. In fact, if I were him, I'd establish this as fact by simply running someone down with my car in front of witnesses. And at my trial, when my attorney asked me why I did it, I'd just grin and say, "Bitch set me up!" Everyone would laugh at what an adorable old rascal I was, and the judge would dismiss the case, and I'd go out and easily win reelection from my retarded Ward 8 constituents.

Summer Movie Scorecard

Have Seen:

Drag Me to Hell: A+
Up: A-
Star Trek: B+
The Hangover: B
Terminator Salvation: B-
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen: C+
X-Men Origins: Wolverine: C
Year One: F

Definitely Seeing:

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Orphan
Funny People
G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra
Final Destination: Death Trip 3D
Inglourious Basterds
H2: Halloween 2

Might See:

Dead Snow
Brüno

I Love You, Beth Cooper
A Perfect Getaway
District 9
The Time Traveler's Wife

Fluffington Post

I know The Huffington Post routinely runs stories of questionable journalistic merit. And in general, I like the way the site combines news and entertainment on its front page.

But come on.

It's Otis Tobias Maguire, in case you were wondering. So actually, maybe a horrible name like that is news.