Jack On The Rocks

The Nose

1065

Dear Readers. This writer seeks your indulgence for his column’s extended absence. In the current era of loquacious political excess conducted by the hyperactive thumbs of The Toddler In Chief (TIC), life had suddenly become satire.

Not even a total immersion in a bathtub of brown liquor could summon sufficient inspiration to exercise these fingers.  However, recent events at the Wilson Building and in its hinterland of Lower Caucasia (aka Georgetown) proved a clarion call to the keyboard.

So, here we are. Together again.

Perhaps you shared this writer’s perplexity at the recent revelations emanating from WMATA (When Might A Train Arrive). Its board chair, Ward 2’s Jack “Lazarus” Evans had allegedly lobbied on behalf of private clients bidding on the transit agency’s parking contracts.

What’s wrong with doing a friend a favor?

It’s not as if the council’s ethical rules are lit up on the side of a stadium or 14th Street high rise like some proverbial neon cross in the sky. A poor politician can easily step in the proverbial poo between Twittering on the dais and hitting send on an office email.

After all, it is not as if the paltry six-figure income paid out of the public purse can cover life’s requirements. The costs of a Georgetown mansion, private education and dining at Le Diplomate certainly would put a dent in the pocketbook of all but a Bezos.

Making ends meet is a difficult business when one is a public official. A little side gig is just the ticket to bliss.

If Evans found employment in the parking industry as an attendant rather than allegedly as lobbyist, none would have batted an eye. Had he asked The Nose, Dear Readers, this poor scribbler would have suggested moonlighting as a bartender at Clyde’s. Alternatively, Evans is handsome enough to have snagged a gig at Secrets with a little makeup. What about a second career as a budmaster at Linda’s new 420 oasis in Anacostia?

In Evan’s honor, this writer has penned alternate lyrics to the Violent Femmes’ anthem of teen angst, “Add It Up:”

Day after day, I will deal and clients will pay
But the day after payday, I can’t stop

Why can’t I get just one deal
Why can’t I get just one deal
Believe me, I prefer not to wheel
But my Georgetown mortgage needs a deal 

Why can’t I bill just one buck
Why can’t I bill just one buck
Ethics investigators are all schmucks
Believe me, I know what to do
But some of my colleagues won’t let me  

Why can’t I pass just one bill
Why can’t I pass just one bill
I guess some on the dais think I’m a shill
But I waited my whole life for just one 

Day after day
I will legislate for whom I may not say
The end is in sight
If the Feds return I may say goodnight 

Oh, ma-mama, mama-mo-ma-mum
Have the Feebees wiretapped Ward 2’s favorite son?
Michael had problems, so he took a 39-month rest
When he left the Wilson Building, he left his mug on Jack’s desk 

So don’t pitch, pitch, pitch that deal
Don’t pitch, pitch, pitch that deal
Emails are so easy to steal
Don’t pitch, pitch, pitch that deal

Helping friends seems to be part of the ethos of DC Pols. The key is not to fill one’s proverbial mug with their thanks.

The Nose can be found sipping brown liquor in the Hills of Anacostia with his faithful red coon hound, Rosebud.