The forecast for tomorrow morning is "snow flurries or snow showers." Which explains why there's a run on Little Hotties Hand Warmers, even out in suburban Virginia, 20 miles from the city. I got to the Wal-Mart just after 10 pm and turned a corner into the aisle where hand warmers are usually stocked right as one customer (well-dressed black guy) was saying to another customer (shlumpy white lady), "You looking for hand warmers, too?"
She answered, "Yeah, you're going to DC?"
They were both standing next to a disinterested Wal-Mart employee who was tagging prices on boxes of fish bait. "We're out," the employee kept saying. "Someone came in and bought a bunch so they could resell them." Really? This far from DC? Where else could we go? The employee said we should go to Costco, except they were already closed, or Target, except they were already closed too. The black guy had an idea of a sporting goods store we could try, and in the parking lot I let it slip that I wasn't from around here and was staying with my Republican dad. "I'm a Republican, too," he said. Wait—really? So, um, did he vote Republican this time? "No, I didn't," he laughed. "Not this time."
He agreed to let me follow him and his wife—since I had no idea where I was going (we traded numbers in case I lost them)—but when we showed up at the sporting goods store it was closed. His wife then had the idea we should try a big Safeway down the road, but the Safeway didn't sell them, and the manager there told us to try Costco.
We parted, and out on the highway I stopped into a pretty dismal Exxon station. Nada. Then I tried a Shell station a couple more miles down the highway, but the door to the convenience store was locked. The lights were on, but no one was home. I scanned the place. Cigarettes, headache medicine, energy supplements, gum, lighters... LITTLE HOTTIES HAND WARMERS! There was a thing of them sitting there on the counter. Just then the gas station attendant materialized from around the side of the building—he'd been in the bathroom—and sold me everything they had: enough hand warmers for four people. I called my new friends, gave them the coordinates of the gas station, and handed two pairs over to them when they got there. And since they'd been gracious enough to let me follow them around, I insisted on not taking any money for them. After handing over half my stash, I'm heading to DC tomorrow with enough hand warmers for two people—me and whatever stranger I end up next to in the press area. It's going to be snowing, after all.
(Confidential to anyone in greater DC looking for hand warmers: Find a Shell station. The attendant said the next Shell station down the highway would have some, too.)
...but the front page of the Huffington Post reads:

"Arianna: We Are All Being Inaugurated Tomorrow."
Dear Arianna Huffington: While I honestly appreciate your enthusiasm, we are not all being inaugurated tomorrow. Unless by "inaugurated" you mean "getting drunk." In which case I will be inaugurated as fuck by midnight.
You've probably heard that Shepard Fairey's original "Hope" poster was acquired recently by the National Portrait Gallery in D.C. and is now on view for the inaugural. I saw the poster today, along with some interesting portraits of former presidents (including a photorealistic but surreally content George W. Bush). But, owing to the fact that Fairey's Obama poster is literally being treated like the Mona Lisa—cordoned off, huge line to view it, one person or couple allowed in front of it at a time, security guards yelling if you snap an unauthorized picture—this was the best image I could bring you.
It doesn't do the scene justice. In my photo you see one person staring at the poster after having taken a digital picture of it. What you don't see: the crazy line, the insane crowds, and the repetition of couple after couple posing in front of the poster and having their pictures taken with Fairey's Obama. Which is an impulse I don't really understand. The whole point of the Fairey poster what that it would become a viral, iconic image that people could find anywhere and everywhere—and that's exactly what happened. You can buy knockoffs of the poster on the street here in D.C., you can print a copy from a fancy color printer if you have one, you can view the image online in a flash. It has achieved what it set out to achieve: the force of ubiquity.
I guess there's some allure to seeing the original, but to pose with it as if the original were the thing? That's missing the point. The copies, and their impact, were the thing.
AP:
WASHINGTON - Vice President Dick Cheney pulled a muscle in his back while moving boxes and will be in a wheelchair for Tuesday's inauguration ceremony.White House press secretary Dana Perino said Monday that Cheney was helping to move into his new home outside Washington in McLean, Va., when he injured his back.
Slog tipper Tim sends along a photo his friends found in Berkeley and asks: "How long you think everyone will be photoshopping Obama and/or doing the Shepard Fairey thing?" I don't know the answer to that one, but I swear I'm done posting them tomorrow. But I kind of like OBobRossma; I'd vote for him in a second.
Remember when Stranger Genius Award winners Lead Pencil Studio got a grant and were working on an installation in the Ross Dress for Less building downtown? Their installation was going to be upstairs, above the store—but that fell through, because the managers of the store kept changing, and could never really get their heads around how exactly people were going to be traipsing through their space to get to an art installation.
So LPS moved the idea to another place: a 4,500-square-foot retail space at the base of Rainier Tower, where they've been holed up building art for the last three weeks. According to Annie Han (she's one-half of LPS), the installation will transform the currently anonymous space into "three different types of retail, intersecting and crammed into one space, but with no products—empty of goods."
This particular storefront, at 411 Union Street, used to be a fine Italian men's-clothing shop. For six weeks, opening on February 4, it will be LPS's first major project in Seattle since their return from Rome (they also have a show up this winter at Boise Art Museum), and it will be called Retail/Commercial.
National Review blog The Corner says that Bush has pardoned everybody he's going to pardon. Which means no pardon for Scooter Libby. Which means you can probably start to dole out the office pools to the "no pardon" folks.
December's snowstorm is becoming a distant memory, but the sand and gravel spread on city streets to help drivers navigate it—12,000 tons, at last count—is still a major hazard for Seattle bike commuters, who've discovered that the city's promise to clear the sand from city streets does not apply to many bike lanes. All around the city, bike lanes are covered with caked layers of sand and gravel—a hazardous surface for bikers, especially those on road bikes with thin, low-traction tires.
Rick Sheridan, spokesman for the Seattle Department of Transportation (SDOT), says the city is systematically clearing bike lanes "as we clear the travel lanes. ... Our instruction [to clearing crews] is to get as close to the curb as possible." However, he acknowledges that in places where a bike lane abuts a parking lane—the configuration for bike lanes in much of the city—SDOT isn't requiring crews to clear all the way to the curb (or putting up signs asking people to temporarily move their cars.) The result is that in many places, cleared streets abut gravel-covered bike lanes, forcing cyclists to either ride on a hazardous gravel surface or ride out in the lane of traffic.
While Sheridan says "I haven't heard of any large-scale issues" about gravel in bike lanes, David Hiller of the Cascade Bicycle Club says he's been inundated with complaints. A message board on Cascade's web site contains four pages of complaints about flats and dangerous riding conditions caused by rubbish and gravel left in bike lanes after the snow.
Hiller notes that in 2004, the city agreed to prioritize bike lanes on arterials when sweeping streets, on the grounds that "the people who are most at risk from debris in the right of way, in terms of crashes and injuries, are bicyclists," Hiller says. Given that SDOT does not appear to have followed through, Hiller says Cascade "will have to consider a more formal arrangement"—a "director's rule" from SDOT head Grace Crunican ordering SDOT workers to clear bike lanes when they clear the streets.
My invitation—my engraved invitation—to the inauguration arrived at the house this weekend. I was excited and honored and thrilled.... until I read the fine print: my invite only gets me in to public events in D.C. tomorrow, and not, you know, to the inauguration itself or any of the parties or balls or receptions. So basically I got an engraved invitation to come to D.C. and stand on a street corner somewhere and freeze my ass off. One really wonders what Miss Manners would say about an invitation of this sort.
Don't get me wrong: I am excited about tomorrow. I am going to get my ass up at 6 AM and get down to the Stranger's sold out party at the Triple Door, where I plan on sticking my fingers in my ears and going "la la la la" while that dumb fat fuck gives the invocation. Then I'm going to pull my fingers out and listen to Barack Obama gives his inaugural address and allow myself feel all hopey again.
Scott Fife's most recent work—warning: more loosely Obama-related art—is this youthful (pre-beard) but wary and exhausted-looking Abe Lincoln. Fife's solo show in Chicago opened Friday. (Two of Fife's older sculptures, of wolves, are up at Platform in Seattle.)

Abe Lincoln (2009), archival cardboard, glue, screws, and pigment; 21 by 16 by 19 inches
Joaquin Phoenix was recently videotaped rapping:
Suddenly it occurs to me that if Jim Morrison was still alive, he'd probably have released a rap album too. Should we start a death watch?
I love it when celebs take out all their aggression on those annoying paparazzi—but when Julia Roberts does it? My love knows no bounds! Pity the poor pap (not really) who crosses Pretty Woman, because she gets UGLY on this guy! (And his reaction—"Sorry… thank you… yes… you're right… yes… sorry"—is classic!
Thanks for making my day, D Listed!
Used to be that Dum Dum pops came in a handful of basic flavors—grape, watermelon, cherry, root beer. Apparently, that's no longer enough for America's youth. Now they've introduced more involved flavors like Banana Split, Cinnamon Roll, Cool Lime, Chocolate Caramel, and Strawberry Shortcake, and kids get to vote on which new flavors they'd like to keep.
My advice: Don't vote for the Cinnamon Roll pop. It hurt my tongue.

...and the two folks behind Cerebus: A Diablog are going to read every single one of them.
Cerebus is one of the most interesting and significant works in the history of American comics. Created by controversial artist and writer Dave Sim, it ran for 300 issues, 6,000 pages, and 27 years (from 1977 to 2004). It’s one of those books that everyone talks about but few have read all the way through (for more reasons that just its size). For more, see Wikipedia, or for crazy details, see the Cerebus Wiki maintained by Margaret aka Cerebusfangirl.Cerebus: A Diablog (or sometimes Cereblog) is an ongoing close reading in two-part harmony. Neither of us was born yet when Cerebus was launched, and neither of us has previously read very much of the series. We’re curious to see what Dave Sim’s work, in all its twisted glory, has to say to a new generation of readers. Grab your own copy and read along with us!
For those of you who don't know what Cerebus is: Canadian cartoonist Dave Sim started a Conan parody comic about an aardvark that eventually turned into the magnum opus described above. He published and distributed the work virtually by himself, accompanied by only a background artist.
The book is more famous, now, for the fact that, toward the latter third part of the series, Sim turned very religious and then started writing editorials about how women are voids designed to suck the life and creativity out of men. He's still relatively ostracized from the comics community because of it, but there's nothing else like Cerebus: It's a mammoth comic book novel about religion and money and death and Groucho Marx and Oscar Wilde. I've been following this blog really carefully, though I haven't read all of Cerebus myself, and you should read it too.
An article in the Stranger a few weeks back talked about taking over the streets more and more. Are there any planned street parties tomorrow night?
They're best when they're spontaneous, and it seems unlikely that a street party will erupt in the evening, so many hours after Obama is sworn in, but... who knows?
UPDATE: Homo Will sends this link.
Ex-Stranger news editor Josh Feit has started a new politics web site called Publicola, as in Publius Valerius. Funded by a "secret cabal, including one Republican" and linked to David Goldstein's HA Seattle, the site will include news from D.C. and Olympia, plus "punditry and spiritual advice" from former Stranger news writer Sandeep Kaushik, tech news by Economist and Seattle Times contributor Glenn Fleishman, and reporting by Chris Kissel.
Kissel's got a nice little scoop up right now about the fact that Dave Reichert—the "moderate" Republican rep from Washington State's 8th District—voted against the Lily Ledbetter Act, which overturned a Supreme Court ruling that set a 180-day window on salary discrimination claims. The ruling—named after a woman who discovered she had been making less than less-qualified, less-experienced men for years—said that women could only sue for discrimination within 180 days of the date the discrimination began. The Dems carried the legislation, which Obama has named as one of his top priorities, 247-171.


Obama equals change, right? Well, how does change apply to art?
You've seen art by Dan Webb and Susan Robb, now hear them talk about what they think should change in art, and what should never change in art.* And don't expect them to agree.
*(This is a segment of a longer conversation we had this morning; the podcast of the entire conversation will go up later today.)
Under Bush's watch, more people were arrested for pot than any other president—872,000 last year and roughly six million over his term. And today, in a parting shot, he pardoned two border agents convicted of shooting an unarmed pot smuggler:
President Bush on Monday commuted the sentences of two former border patrol agents who had been sentenced to more than a decade in prison for shooting and seriously wounding a Mexican drug dealer in Texas in 2005. [...]“These agents shot someone whom they knew to be unarmed and running away,” said the prosecutor, United States Attorney Johnny Sutton. “They destroyed evidence, covered up a crime scene and then filed false reports about what happened. It is shocking that there are people who believe it is O.K. for agents to shoot an unarmed suspect who is running away.”
It's hard to imagine it getting any worse, but that's what people said about Clinton.
Have to work tomorrow? No worries—there are plenty of parties, concerts, and bars celebrating and/or replaying the day's events later in the day. Some have dinner, some have music, they all seem to have drink specials:
Hi, Rosebuddy! Celebrate the Inauguration at the Rosebud!
"We'll be offering drink specials in the bar and televised highlights of the day's events, plus a special prix fixe dinner menu in the dining room for $28: Mixed greens with aged sherry vinaigrette, spiced almond brittle and figs; Seared halibut with braised cabbage, roasted fingerling potatoes and mango salsa; White chocolate-raspberry bread pudding; Glass of bubbly for an after-dinner toast." Call (206) 323-6636 to reserve a table.
The Corson Building's Inauguration Day Party
"The Corson Building in Georgetown will be having an inauguration party from 6pm on for $25 with wood-fired pizza, oysters, and a cash bar." More info.
Three Imaginary Girls' Inauguration Day Celebration
With live music from H Is for Hellgate, Friday Mile, Benjamin Bear, and Ed Wang. Doors open at 8 pm, $7, 21+.
Seattle's Inebriation Inauguration Celebration
Six Seattle bars—Moxie, Murphy's, BalMar, Del Rey, Capitol Club, and Magnolia Village Pub—have joined forces for for the Inebriation Inauguration Celebration. They all have extra special happy hours going on all night. Visit 7nites.com for more information.
Inauguration Bash at Tini Bigs and Hula Hula's
The party starts at 4 pm Tuesday and goes all night with drink specials (Obama "Tinis" for $5!) and games ("Throw your Shoe at Bush, win a Prize Contest"). They'll also be replaying the inauguration ceremony starting at 4 pm.
Get Inaugurated: A Benefit Bash for the Real Change Organizing Project
"Raise your glass to the Regime Change and raise some legal tender for Real Change at our own inaugural ball and benefit at Victory Lounge." With performances by Mostly Dimes, Get Down Moses, and Breaker Breaker. Also featuring Yes Wed Did! drink specials. Doors open at 8 pm, $7 suggestion donation, 21+.
In your response to "Faithful Obama Girl" you refer to Rick Warren as a "gay-hatin', right-wing Christian bigot." I found this confusing. I can understand that he represents a political/social faction which has an agenda opposed to your own. I can also imagine that I can not even begin to imagine how any criticism of a gay lifestyle takes a sinister aura when it has a religious basis. However, is it accurate to describe Warren this way? Certainly, he does speak against the gay lifestyle, but would you say that anyone who does this is a hateful bigot? Is there a difference between the beliefs of Rick Warren and those of Fred Phelps?I could understand if you described Warren (or myself) as a dangerously deluded Christian fanatic because you believe that our beliefs naturally lead towards the hateful bigotry of Phelps. I would disagree but differentiate between that description and the one you gave.
A Biblical Christian
Rick warren is Fred Phelps plus 100 pounds and a smile.
You can speak against the gay lifestyle without being bigoted. There are certainly aspects of "the gay lifestyle" that trouble me, and I'm as gay guys get. You'll certainly find examples of me taking gay men to task if you read through the "Savage Love" archives. But a person can't insist that people shouldn't be gay, or that gay people shouldn't have relationships, or that gay people shouldn't be parents or adopt, or that being gay is a sinful choice, without being considered a bigot.
Imagine if I told you that I only hated "the Christian lifestyle," and not, you know, actual Christians. Hey, nothing personal! I know and like tons of individual Christians, and I've broken bread with Christians, and I've had Christians over to my house. But I nevertheless think that Christianity—just the practice, not the people—is immoral and that no one needs to be Christian—it's a lifestyle choice, and Christians can change! Indeed, I was a Christian once. And while I have great affection for Christians I also believe that no one who is Christian is fit to parent, that Christians should not be allowed to marry or adopt, and that Christians aren't going to heaven because my God condemns their immoral lifestyle.
Oh, and I also believe that Christians being allowed to marry infringes upon my right to, um, live in a world where Christians do not enjoy that right.
Would you consider me an anti-Christian bigot then? I expect you would, ABC, and you'd be right.

I ran into this photograph last week at Platform Gallery and couldn't help but think of Obama's campaign and its bubble of hope.
The picture was taken (by the artist Adam Ekberg) in an emptied-out Chicago apartment. Ekberg worked for hours to get a bubble right in the center of the frame at the moment when he took the picture, so that it would be hanging there as fragile as anything but forever intact—just so. The angle of the sun means it's a little late in the day; in this apartment someone has moved out but no one has moved in yet. This is a national portrait of today, January 19, 2009. Tomorrow will be different.
Joe Biden's wife Jill, in a surprise appearance on Oprah, just accidentally let slip with the fact that, during the campaign, Joe Biden was offered his choice of either Vice President or Secretary of State in an Obama Administration. Joe Biden immediately shushed his wife and said that that wasn't a fact for public consumption.
Want to hear the inaugural speech today? Then try the Inauguration Speech Generator:
My fellow Americans, today is a Hopey day. You have shown the world that "hope" is not just another word for "Washington", and that "change" is not only something we can believe in again, but something we can actually Change.
I loved Mad Libs so much when I was a kid.
Condo sellers are getting more desperate. As the real-estate market dips, condos on Capitol Hill have depreciated in value by an average of 1.2 percent since last year. On north Beacon Hill, they’ve dropped by 20 percent. So an open house yesterday for an art-themed condo building on Federal Avenue East lured buyers with more than the requisite granite countertops, more than $5000 discounts for artists and teachers, and more than the Rutles jamming "I Must Be In Love" from a boom box. Art Haus, a condo with art hanging in the halls, offered free readings from an honest-to-Goddess “master psychic and clairvoyant.”
The sign-up list to see clairvoyant Judith Ballard was over half a page when I arrived. Waiting for my turn, I chatted with developer Alyce Conti, who bought the 81-year old brick building in October 2007 with Clay Laidig, her co-developer and husband. They put it on the market five months ago, but only four of the nine units have sold so far. And among the gimmicks to get people to into open houses, the couple has even offered massages from a licensed masseuse. “We always try to do something that is—I don’t know if it is out there, per se—but something a little out of the box,” she says.
But what is Ballard going to predict for would-be buyers… your future holds a walk-in closet? “No that’s not her deal,” says Conti. “More like she says you should have finished your degree. Maybe you should go ahead with that degree now.”
But after 30 minutes waiting in the penthouse, this high-school drop out still hadn’t been called. Some clairvoyant. Didn’t she foresee I was coming? I left to gaze into a crystal ball of pho down the street.