Even MORE Obama Mania Souvenir Crap

Who are all of these people looking at, trying to capture with their ever-snapping camera?Could that be the new president, peeking out at us from behind the curtains of the Oval Office?*
"Hi, Mr. President!"

If you look in the surveillance files, you'll find another picture of me in this same pose in this same place from back in November 2002. That is, it is the same pose except for the gesture. I was letting the occupant of your home at the time know that he was #1.

Ah, look, here is the President himself, visiting a tourist gift shop: Admit it, for a second there you thought that was actually him, right? Well, I did. I came around the corner of some t-shirt stacks and had a split second of shock. Then, I felt stupid. I've been taken in by life-size cutouts before.

If you prefer a three-dimensional president, the same shop sells Obama busts:

Yeesh! Does it really need any comment?

Leftovers from the inauguration. These are those "see over a crowd" or "see around a corner" viewer thingys:
Let me tell you, if you needed one of these things to see the inauguration around a corner or over someone's head, they weren't going to do you any good unless they had a NASA-issued binoculars attached.

An Obama-themed tie and cuff links:

Isn't it a little-known rule of fashion that tie and cuff links should match? I think I saw it on "What Not to Wear."

An Obama pin:
What makes that pin special is that the head bobbles. It is attached to the body by a little spring and will bounce around.

That made me realize that I hadn't yet seen an Obama bobble-head. Well, sure enough, the next day in Eastern Market, I saw a "vendor" selling one. He wouldn't let me take a picture unless I bought something, so, no picture.

I also didn't take a picture of the Obama pin that lit up and flashed. The effect just wasn't the same in a photograph.

Naturally, someone has to *heart* Obama:

Of course you knew that this was coming:
Yes, an Obama action figure! Did I call it or what? Sadly, he is not ripping his shirt off, and his arms and legs only move at the shoulder and hip, so not much action going on there. No cape either.

The piece de resistance:

An Obama Beanie-Baby Teddy Bear! Or would that be an Obama Bear? Watch out TR! Your namesake is about to be stolen!

I couldn't leave out Hillary. The kitsch level on her wasn't so bad, limited to just a few pins hearkening back to earlier waves of feminism. Here we have Rosie the Hillary Clinton voter:
And Hillary the Heir to the Suffrage Movement:
Not too bad. Fortunately, I haven't seen the Hillary nutcracker since last summer. The only good thing about that artifact is that they didn't make her ugly, which you would expect.

If you click on the link, you'll also see that the same company markets a Bill Clinton corkscrew, which I, sadly, find tastelessly amusing and not so nearly offensive as the nutcracker.

In fact, as tacky as most of these items of Obama kitsch are, they don't exhibit a mean-spirited creator or targeted audience, which the nutcracker does. The Obama kitsch suggests an affection and perhaps admiration for Obama. The nutcracker was a sexist, mean-spirited joke of the sort that continues to be bandied about H. Clinton despite the fact that she is arguably the most powerful woman in the country (Oprah probably runs her a close second).

Lest I leave you with the sense that the tasteless tack centers on Obama, let me pass on an image that I found as I headed toward the Metro station. Here we have the Lincoln Building:

The Lincoln Building is so named because it shares a wall with this building:
That is the building where Lincoln died.

Across the street is where his brains were shot out:
The Lincoln Building was probably so named in tribute to the Great Emancipator, in memory of his death so nearby. Yet, if you will notice, the architecture is from a much later period. Cynic that I am, I suspect a little capitalization of the gory death of a fallen leader had a more that a smidge to do with the naming of the building.

Thus are the perils of a public persona. The public will take that persona and interpret it however they wish -- as a gaudy Beanie Baby or a sexist bar tool or a name on a building adjacent to the site of your assassination -- and then capitalize on their interpretation.

In some small, hopefully more respectable manner, we historians make our careers off of the same process. Although I'm sure that could be debated when you see the plethora of published crap about Lincoln.

*By the way, if the president wants to set an example, maybe he and the Secret Service should not be driving around in all of those big ass SUVs that are parked out front. Just sayin'.

What I Saw at the Inauguration

A week later and I finally get around to posting my inauguration adventures.

The Metro station, 5 am.:
Not bad, considering that NPR had just reported that another station had lines extending out the doors and down the street. I just walked up. The train itself wasn't that crowded, although, with each stop, it gradually filled.

Transferring to the green line, I found Ikea's co-optation of "change."
I briefly wondered if they had approached the Obamas and offered to redecorate the White House.

Leaving the Metro station:
Months ago, I thought that this would be my only view of the inauguration. I was pretty sure that I would be packed onto the escalator, which would have broken down, and someone would have a radio playing the speech.

One of the many, pre-dawn hawkers of Obama crap: He's holding up what looks like a press pass, which got people's attention, but it is really only something saying something to the effect of "I was at the 2009 Inauguration of Obama and all i got was this stupid souvenir."

The Capitol:
It was this dark when I got to what would be my standing place for the next 6-8 hours. I ended up on my feet for over 12. At this point, everyone liked having a crowd because the body heat kept you warm and the other people blocked the wind.

"Hello, my name is Bob and I will be your sniper today:"
"Hi, I'm Dave, and if Bob misses, I won't:"
Like I said, the temperature was freezing cold. Seriously, I thought I was going to get frostbite and I prayed for my toes to go numb because then they would stop hurting. Some of the people around me began singing, which did hold off the worst of the cold. This woman, along with many around her, had some spectacular vocal chords. Lots of church groups attended, so the singing went from pop standards like "Lean on me" to a sad attempt at Civil Rights songs, for which no one knew more than the title lines ("We Shall Overcooooome, We Shall Overcooome, We Shall Overcooome lalalala...Keep Your Eyes on the Prize dadada...."). Then the church groups kicked in. When people start talking Jesus, I get uncomfortable. Jesus people can go a lot of ways, and many of those ways are fairly bigoted, regardless of race.

Here is one of the ways that they can go. This guy was singing his heart out, but couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. He said, "I know, I know, I don't have the talent but I have the heart and the soul." He did, too! His joy was contagious. Then the spirit overcame him and he shouted, "Let's have a prayer!"

"Let's not," I thought, fearing what the prayer might contain.

"This is a Pentecostal prayer!" he shouted.

"Amen!" said the group.

"Oh, shit!" thought I.

Then he launched into what was a fairly secular and clearly joyful expression that Obama had become president and that Civil Rights was moving forward:

I tried not to be cynical about what they might think about gay civil rights. Still, I almost envied the way that he gave himself over to this feeling with such abandon, and the way many of the people around him did the same.

One woman held up a Martin Luther King, Jr. picture (I didn't take hers). I showed her my Frederick Douglass t-shirt (oh, c'mon, you knew I had one), which was the second to last of my ten layers of clothes. She was thrilled. "It's so good that you care," she said. "It's really about all of us." Then she wanted to know, "Do you know Jesus?"

I did not say, "not personally." I did say, almost apologetically, "no." She looked at me with sadness. "I thought you might." At least she didn't try to convert me.

I did think of what Babu says about religious people. He doesn't take it personally when they try to convert him. He just says, "good for them" that they have found something meaningful. I felt the same.

Some of the other people around me: Notice the Spellman cap? Another woman came up to her and said, "Hey, Spellman! What class?"

"Ninety-six," said the woman in the cap.

"Ninety-four," said the new woman, then winked.

A little later, the people in charge of the big t.v. screen -- Jumbotrons! -- started to play the big concert from the previous Sunday. "Yea!" I thought, "no more Jesus! Bruce Springsteen instead!" We all have our religions. Mine used to be rock-n-roll. It can save your mortal soul, you know. This is a picture of people looking in the general direction of the nearest Jumbotron:It's that white square toward the left side of the picture. It is also facing in the other direction. The one in front of us was not playing the concert. By "in front," I mean a whole chunk of the Mall away from us:See the blue truck? See the tree behind it? See the dark squarish thing behind the bottom branch of that tree? That's the Jumbotron. This was my view. The woman next to me said, "You know, I know it's not all about me, but couldn't they just move that tree for one day.

She was joking, just in case that wasn't clear. Sometimes, it isn't.

Incidentally, Garth Brooks sang "American Pie" in the concert. At least, he sang a bastardized version of it. "Wait a minute," I thought, "a country singer, who is not the Dixie Chicks, performed for a Democrat?" I respected Brooks just a tiny bit more for that; although, having the Dixie Chicks perform would have been awesome.

Then, the main event began. I thought a gay chorus was supposed to sing. Unless they are letting elementary school age kids come out, the gay chorus did not sing. Instead, we were serenaded by a large children's choir. It sounded like a Christmas concert that would not end. Over and over and over.

That was followed by that bigot minister's prayer. The people around me -- the Jesus people -- all bowed their heads and prayed along. One woman raised her hand up to god and swayed. About a sentence into the dude's prayer, I couldn't take it. This guy hates gays. I love gays. His definition of civil rights is "I got mine, fuck the rest of you." Mine is best stated by Fannie Lou Hamer, "Nobody's free until everybody's free."

Thinking specifically of VUBOQ, and GayProf, and Tenured Radical, and my old crush Farnoush, and my old crush Chris , and my student in my Civil Rights class last year, and very especially of Lori, I turned my back on the bastard. He stood there invoking both god and civil rights while denying the second to a significant chunk of the population. It was just me, but I felt something had to be shown, some dissent, even if it went unnoticed. I hope other people did the same.

When he finished, I turned back around. Then the parade of luminaries to the stage began. The crowd, cold and tired and excited, had no compunction about expressing opinions. Newt Gingrich? "Boooo!" I said, "you know it just kills him to have to watch Obama inaugurated." Roberts conducting the swearing in, same there.

All of the Bushes -- not just the presidents but their wives as well -- received vocal disapproval. "Laura Bush?" one woman said. "She should be ashamed of herself being a librarian. No child left behind is such crap. My child takes 7 tests a year and she's just 9." She kept going with her indictment until George W. appeared on the screen. I've heard people in other parts of the crowd began singing the same "na na na" song that I posted on the day (which I actually set up the night before and timed to go up at noon on Tuesday). In my part of the crowd, people began singing "Hit the Road, Jack" ("and don't ya come back no more, no more, no more!")

The same woman who editorialized about "No child left behind" -- with much support, I might add -- said, "you know the news is not going to report the booing. They will tape over with some cheers and no one will know just how much we really do hate him."

I have since learned that some people, even people who dislike W., think that booing him lacked manners and civility. This is an instance in which the charge of rudeness is in fact a silencing mechanism. Consider the man's record in office, his boorish attitude toward even his own people who disagreed with him. Consider what he did to our country, our economy, our world. Booing is the least of his deserts. We should have all thrown our shoes -- except Bob and Dave would have taken us out.

Clinton and Carter, on the other hand, got cheers. I've grown to respect Carter in the past few years. The man had an undeserved reputation for being "weak," but he stood down both Begin and Sadat. That took some big brass swinging huevos.

Hillary Clinton got cheers too, which made me happy. She's got a set of huevos herself. Suddenly, I realized, despite many people wanting her to be the Vice President, she will probably be much more effective and happy as the Secretary of State. Of the two offices, which one actually has power? (Aside from during Cheney's reign.) In fact, when Mrs. Biden revealed that Mr. Biden had been given a choice of position, I began to wonder what really went down. Clinton might have been given the same choice and given it first. She chose well.

Then, the raison d'etre for the gathering began. Biden took the oath. "Cheney is outta here!" I yelled.

"Hell yeah!" someone nearby said.

Obama takes the oath, from my point of view:

The crowd went wild! Including me! We yelled and screamed and jumped up and down and people cried and hugged and slapped high-fives and high-tens and maybe even a high-twenty or two. Little flags waved. Fantastic! The long evil reign had ended (and from the past week, we may actually have reason to believe life might possible perhaps get better at some point in the future -- repealed gag rule, open presidential papers, now let's get some gay rights and a better economy!)

Obama hopped right into his acceptance speech, which I like to call "The George W. Bush Smack Down." Ah, yes, the sweet smell of schadenfreude as I thought of that smug little bully sitting up there on the platform having to listen to all of his sins listed, and yet not be mentioned by name. I did a little evil Snoopy dance.

As many have pointed out, this wasn't Obama's greatest speech by far, but he could have just stood up there and said "blahblahblahblah" for 20 minutes and everyone would have been happy. President Obama -- not President Bush -- that's what mattered.

At some point, Aretha Franklin sang. Talk about icing on the sweet sweet cake of the day! (I didn't see the hat until later -- only she could make that work -- from my "seat" I thought she was wearing an African head wrap.)

Some people also have made a big deal about the Yo-Yo Ma bit being recorded. Actually, being a former band geek from way back in the day and being the child of long-term band geeks, I sort of wondered about the effect of the cold on the instruments and their sound. So, no big surprise. I wondered the same thing when I saw the various military bands line up behind the Capitol for the parade.

Speaking of which, once the festivities ended and the last prayer was said (do they really have to drag god and Jesus into everything?), I began my race to give W. the double bird as he flew off. I honestly thought that I had about two hours. The Post reported that he was supposed to have lunch in the Capitol and then fly away. I braved the human traffic to get to the opposite side of the Capitol:In my sojourn, I saw Marine One fly overhead and thought that it was headed toward the Capitol. Little did I know that the little coward hightailed his sorry butt straight through the building, out the back door, and off to Texas. Marine One was leaving.

In my ignorance of his departure, I spent the next two hours hiding from the cold in the vestibule of the Library of Congress. Two professional freelance photographers working for one or another wire service (I don't ask questions, I just eavesdrop), sought shelter there as well. That's how I learned I had missed the ratbastard. So, I'm not completely sure that he is gone. I can only trust the news.

I stayed there in the Library of Congress, waiting for the parade to start:

Then I headed home. The Capitol South Metro station was closest, being only a block to the left of this picture. There, the line led around the block, and they had ceased letting people into the station because the platform had filled to capacity. After about 15 minutes, I decided to walk home. Five miles, sure, but I'd get there sooner. On my way, I passed Union Station and decided to try my luck there. The crowds seemed much larger, but most were going to Amtrak, which is housed in the same station. I ended up just hopping on the next train out and was home within 20 minutes.

Asleep within the hour.

A Major Award!

I've won a Major Award:

("Frageeeelay!" Heh! That never gets old).

Whoops! Not that one. This one:

The Inspirational Blogger Award! Thank you, Professor Zero!

In fact, I was awarded it twice. Thank you, Historiann!

Actually, from their descriptions of my blog, I'm not entirely certain that they are reading what I am writing. They seem to be reading a much more interesting blog; but if that's how they want to characterize this one, then, let me tell you, I'm not complaining!

These are the responsibilities of those who accept the Inspiration Award:
1) Please put the logo of the award (above -- the pretty lady in the pretty dress) on your blog if you can make it work with your format.
2) Link to the person from whom you received the award.
3) Nominate 5-7 other blogs.
4) Put the links of those blogs on your blog.
5) Leave a message on their blogs to tell them.

Well, I'm pretty rotten with responsibility. I am also pretty rotten at singling out a specific number of people for anything special because I always feel like someone equally special might be slighted. All my blog links are inspirational to me at one time or another.

But, if I must show favoritism, these are my Muses for the Moment:

1) and 2) I must boomerang award both Professor Zero and Historiann.

3) Then, of course, the wonderful VUBOQ. He has been through some tough times this year. By "tough," I mean he has hit some of the top stressful moments of life that you always find on those "ten most stressful life events" lists. Yet, he saunters through with his grace, charm, and wit. A true gentleman and a true inspiration.

4) Dr. No who writes Acadamnit. I have just discovered Dr. No, who has, coincidentally, just started this blog. His (and I'm just assuming gender here) wonderfully diplomatic letters are models of backhanded compliments and veiled disgust. He does not suffer fools. Another gentleman of great humor.

5) Renee, who writes her Womanist Musings, is a new discovery. She is a Canadian who writes in the sort of brutally honest way that forces white girls like me to constantly reevaluate our own privilege and assumptions. Plus, she must post about ten times a day.

6) Lori who writes Hahn at Home. A lesbian living out loud with three adoptive children, including two amazing twins being "educated" in our crappy American school system, and some neighbors who seriously deserve an Asshole of the Week award. Still, she won't take crap and does what has to be done, even if it means moving a few blocks over just to get her kids into the system that can accommodate their needs, or waging a Proposition 8 sign war with the bigots on her street. Sadly, she is on break right now. Gladly, she has archives!

7) GayProf at Center of Gravitas. The man survived the mecca of backwards rednecks,Texas. Plus, he looks stunning in a Wonder Woman outfit. We're taking up a collection to erect a monument to his general glory.

I love all of you, even if you aren't on the list -- really, I do! I'm not just procrastinating when I read you; and every blog that I read has, at one time or another, inspired a post.

Another Random Marker

This one sits, buried in the bushes on a triangular shaped piece of neutral ground, between the Ellipse and the White House. This one is "In memory of John Saul, Horticulturist, born Castlemartyr, County Cork, Ireland, December 25, 1819, died Washington D.C. May11, 1897."

"Who was he?" you ask, other than a horticulturist? He was "Founding Member and First Chairman, Parking Commission of the District of Columbia, 1872-1897."

In 1872, before the automobile, parking had become so bad in the district that they needed a Parking Commission. Sine the founding member was the horticulturist who was, at one time, in charge of landscaping the touristy areas of D.C., I'm guessing that people were parking their buggies on the gardens and lawns of the National Mall. The horses might have been eating the flowers and trees. He had to step away from his seed business for a moment, and do something -- anything! -- to stop the destruction of the green space.

Then, at some point, someone thought to put up a marker to him, complete with his image.

Actually, just before I stumbled upon this marker, I had been thinking how nice green spaces are in cities. I grew up in a place that have very few public green spaces. Every inch of land had to be private property, "improve" by concrete or construction, or both. Manhattan amazed me with its use of parks. Parks that people actually used because they were so nice. Green spaces in cities can be so unexpected and releiving. I was thinking that D.C. has this here, at the Mall and in other places as well; and then, this.

The Most Random Thing that I Saw on the National Mall

This marker appears on the corner of the National Mall, near the National Museum of Art. It says: "Near this site the National Grange of the Patrons of Husbandry was founded on December 4, 1867 in the Office of the Superintendent of the Propagating Gardens Department of Agriculture." The marker lists the founder names, including the one cited in most textbooks, Oliver Kelley, and adds "assisted by Caroline A. Hall.: The last line says, "This tablet erected by the National Grange, 1951."

It doesn't explain the Grange, or what the Propagating Gardens were or even if the Department of Agriculture was located in the same place as it is now. What function did Caroline A. Hall serve in her "assistance"? Who was she and what led her to that assistance.

Basically, what we have here is a marker to a bunch of bureaucrats, including one woman, founding an organization to help farmers. Not exactly what you expect to run into, wandering down the sidewalk on the National Mall, where Great White Generals and Presidents or dead soldiers have traditionally been commemorated.

Incidentally, the Department of Agriculture is located on the opposite end of the Mall, near the Washington Monument.

The Online Museum of Historical Kitsch Continues

I haven't posted any more accessions to the Online Museum of Historical Kitsch in almost two years. Not because I haven't seen any -- the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum was a monument to kitsch unto itself. I'm just lazy and often out of batteries (digital cameras do suck the power up, don't they?)

Here are the contributions of the National Archives Gift Shop. In addition to the Obama Mania Souvenir Crap, including the FDR and Clinton BB games, we have other contributions from the National Archives Gift Shop.

First up, we have Rosie the Riveter "Empowermints!" Need equal rights and fresh breath? "You Can Do It!":
These reminded me a little too much of Testamints. I couldn't decide if the makers of "Empowermints" just took a tacky idea and marketed it as feminist souvenir crap, or that the tacky idea occurred in different places, or what.

"Empowermints" sat on the "Rosie the Riveter" wall: Here you have your ubiquitous posters and t-shirts, along with coffee mugs, water bottles, lunch boxes, bookends and plush dolls. Some of this schwag was over at the Smithsonian American History Museum gift shop too. Quite interesting given that the actual poster appears in the exhibits of neither the History Museum or the National Archives.

I confess, I almost purchased one of the plush dolls. Then, I saw her competition: That's Susan B. Anthony. She's holding a sign saying "Equal Rights for Women" and a sash saying "Votes for Women." I'm not sure if Susan B. Anthony ever did these things, but her tag said that's who the doll was supposed to depict. I just thought she was a suffragist when I saw her. A suffragist with grey hair, no less, which won my greying-headed little heart.

I had to decide between Rosie and Susan B., until I saw this collection:
That would be Amelia Earhart, George Washington, Dwight D. Eisenhower (in military uniform, not presidential uniform, because generals have cooler outfits than presidents), Teddy Roosevelt with his very own teddy bear, and Abigail Adams. Funny that they have Abigail but not John. A bid to include the white girls or a statement that Abigail was more interesting than John?

Again, I confess that I coveted the Amelia Earhart doll, despite the fact that her hair was historically inaccurate. Her hair was never long enough to peek out from beneath her cap in the back. Perhaps bangs in the front (which would have been tucked in) were not enough to convey her femininity, something she herself was concerned about projecting.

The gift shop also had: Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Banneker. Yeah, that's a likely duo. Although, to be fair, they did correspond. Once.

You can also purchase the entire Lewis and Clark expedition: Well, maybe not the entire expedition. Just Lewis, Clark, York and the dog. Sacajawea, her baby, and any other Native American must be packaged elsewhere. Right?

In any case, I did not buy Rosie, or Susan B., or even Amelia. I couldn't decide, then decided that I really had no business buying any of them. The pictures would suffice.

Had they a Frederick Douglass, however, I would have been all over it.

I do have a Frederick Douglass version of one of these:
Albert Einstein, George Washington, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Harriet Tubman combination finger puppets and magnets. Eleanor is wearing a "fox fur" stole.

Lest all of the plushness and dollness be considered too girly, the shop also sells "action figures":
Benjamin Franklin holds a little kite with a key. George Washington holds an American Flag, and Thomas Jefferson holds a scroll that is supposed to be the Declaration of Independence. These are the "American Patriots." All of them.

Sadly, neither the shop nor the museum had a souvenir penny flattener. "We The People" would look so wonderfully tasteless smashed into a penny! Kind of appropriate, too.

This One is Going Out to George W.

The chorus to this song keeps going through my head today, thinking about the Worst President in History leaving the White House:


Reading the lyrics, however, I think it might be an appropriate song for Obama (or, really, anyone who hates W.) to sing. Obama as the singer, the U.S. as the person to whom he's singing, and W. is the bad other boyfriend.

So, it's "Na na na na, Na na na na, Hey, hey, hey, Goodbye," you evil sonofabitch! May you rot in the hell of your own making -- and you sure know how to make a hell.

The Coolest Thing that I Saw At the National Archives

Forget the Constitution, Bill of Rights, and Declaration of Independence (which, by the way, are all still there and without visible redaction). THIS was the coolest thing that I saw in the Public Vaults at the National Archives:
This is the Homestead application for a farm outside of DeSmet, South Dakota, made by Charles Ingalls. As the title on the label says, it was "Land for a Little House."

I swear, my 8 year old self emerged and I squealed like a little girl when I saw it.

The Coolest Thing that I Saw on the National Mall

The Scene:

That fuzzy figure in the middle, wearing black and a touch of red? That's Bruce Springsteen:

That fuzzy figure in black? That's Bono:

I didn't get a picture of it -- or at least one that registered anything but the back of someone's head -- but I did get to see him closer when the band was headed toward the stage. He is actually even more attractive in person (or maybe that's just the aura of fame).

This was the rehearsal for the big concert on Sunday. I didn't realize it was going on until I saw Bruce on one of the big screens being testing down by the Capitol. "The Boss? Here? Now?" I thought, then about ran down to the Lincoln Memorial. The cold helped my speed.

Sadly, I missed getting Bono's autograph by about five minutes. Then, like a teenage fangirl, I stood in the cold for almost an hour, my toes and fingers alternating between numbness and pain, to see him again between the Springsteen and U2 rehearsals. I wasn't the only big idiot doing so, nor the oldest. Lots of us middle-aged fangeeks stood there shivering and reminiscing about how we saw U2 way back in the day. You know, before they were so big.

Of course, being middle aged, we had a lower tolerance for doing dumb things in frigid weather. We started bargaining: "He's got five minutes, then I'm leaving." Ten minutes later, we upped the ante, "I love U2, but they aren't worth frost bite. Five more minutes, then I'm gone." Ten minutes after that, "Once he comes out, I'm outta here." One guy, a little younger than middle aged, started yelling, "hey Bono, we have Nintendo and beer out here! The Edge said you sucked! Come prove him wrong."

For the record, that last guy was joking; but sometimes you have to clarify such things.

The oddest thing was that everyone was kinda cool. No one in our little freezing crowd acted like a huge drunk asshole to one another, as they often do at concerts. We were all just freezing fans, happy to get a little unexpected performance from watching the rehearsal.

I was extra happy because I had planned to go see the big concert on Sunday, but I really only wanted to see U2 and Bruce (Their tickets are prohibitively expensive these days. "Working class hero" bastards). The acts were only going to perform 2 or 3 songs, so I was pretty relieved not to have to go down for another freezing day amid those big, drunk, asshole crowds.

So, this was the coolest thing that I saw on the National Mall on Saturday.