Washington's Most Loathsome

As I worked on completing this long-promised list last night, I started having second thoughts. Defacing pictures of the power elite and various pretenders as if they were ads on the side of a bus, I wondered whether I should be contributing to the cheap and nasty discourse that makes many people wary of political participation.

The devil on my shoulder would not stand for self-doubt in these matters.

"Peter Angelos is a pretty big prick," he said. And I was sold.

Written by DCeiver and I and inspired by the 50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers list in the New York Press, below are 28 people whose unbridled ego rubs off everywhere in Washington, from the grandstanding backbencher in Congress to the 25-year-old in a striped shirt who simply cannot understand why someone would have the nerve to brush up against him at the Brass Monkey. While many Washingtonians at all levels of the income and career spectrum try to live their life with humility, patience and graciousness, the jerks demand attention. So now they have ours.

Update: A few minor errors fixed.

28. Michelle Malkin: She's oppressed by the mainstream media, college professors and liberal bloggers who don't like her attitude and politics. Her people (vein-popping righty mouth-breathers) are worried that they're all going to be killed by terrorist immigrants or replaced by Mexican pundits who earn a tenth of their salary. Last year, she wrote a book promoting an internment of unpopular minority groups that was quickly ripped to shreds (start with link and scroll up). It's hard to be Michelle Malkin.

A charter member in the Order of the Perpetually Oppressed (David Horowitz, treasurer), Malkin has the entire federal government and the governments of most states on her side, yet she's still horribly, horribly mistreated and threatened by the remaining liberal boogeymen. What would make you happy, poor thing? Some of us would be glad to send you, Horowitz, Hannity, Limbaugh, Hewitt et. al. to your own private island where you can put up big fences to keep any and all people and opposing ideas from your sodomy-free low-tax wonderland.

27. Courtney Totushek: If you've ever been unfortunate enough to endure a Totushek-hosted open mic at Arlington's semi-venerable Dr. Dremo's, you'll know what we're talking about.Totushek monopolizes the top of the hour, stumbling through songs she can't sing, hasn't finished, and can't remember the words to, all the while braying and gabbing with her little clique of googy-eyed yes men, dishing in-jokes and snarking as if the collected audience were hanging on every word. When she finally relinquishes the stage -- handing herself at least twice the time she gives everyone else -- she refuses to fade into the background, instead standing in view down at the foot of the stage, back to the ensuing performers, continuing whatever insipid, howling conversation she occupied her stage time having. She's an utter boor.If you're really unfortunate, you might also catch her around town as the frontwoman for Rotoscope, who bill themselves as sounding like Coldplay, though it's more like a Coldplay that's been in a harrowing highway collision.

26. Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas): From the "Late Addition" stack. Cornyn was a complete nobody, and might have remained so, if he hadn't taken the floor this past week and rationalized the actions of an Atlanta area rapist who went on a killing spree last month in a courthouse as the actions of a man frustrated by judicial activism. And you thought that Islamofascists were spooky!

25. Jessica Cutler: Is she even in Washington anymore, or does she aspire to be an even smaller piece of floating pond scum in a bigger, sluttier pond? Someone should have told her that if she had kept her dalliances on the DL for just a little longer, she could have been sitting in one of those padded OEOB briefing room chairs like Jeff Gannon instead of getting demeaned in a Meatpacking District bathroom stall.

 

 

24. Violent Go-Go Fans: DC's major contribution to the R&B genre is go-go, and there's no denying it's appeal--non-stop party energy, propulsive rhythms that cradle the booty, and charismatic musicians personalities fill the rooms. So why does this infectious music hardly ever get outside the city boundaries? Because it's hardcore fans can't seem to stop killing one another! With a truckload of bad press and a bevy of venues either shuttered or constantly on the edge of being locked down by neighbors who are sick to death of the violence, it's a despairing inner city cliche. The actions of these few keep go-go's musicians in an industry ghetto while Beyonce Knowles ride their style to the top of the charts. At least Jenna Bush still appreciates a little E.U. now and then.

23. WaPo columnist and mole-man Charles Krauthammer: Like Sen. Frist violating nearly every AMA bylaw when diagnosing Terry Schaivo by videotape, K-Ham relishes in abusing his psychiatry credentials, finding ways to artfully insinuate that you have to be insane to be a Democrat running for office. His abuse of barely-remembered terms from his shrink days is supplemented by the usual neocon chickenhawkishness that got us into this mess with so few troops in the first place.

Remember this whopper from 2002?:

"If we win the war, we are in control of Iraq, it is the single largest source of oil in the world, it's got huge reserves, which have been suppressed because of Iraq's actions, and Saddam's. We will have a bonanza, a financial one, at the other end, if the war is successful."

Yeah, that Iraqi oil money was awesome. Thanks for the free health care, 77 cent a gallon gas and free law school tuition, Iraq!

22. Going Out Gurus Blogger Janet: In a posse with as little to say as the Going Out Gurus,
Janet's ability to produce content is limited to her dubious knowledge of outrageously expensive bourgeois bullshit. Fashion victims aren't really the sort of people who take their cues from bloggers, but Janet doesn't really have the imagination to understand that, and the only thing she seems to have learned about writing is that you are supposed to write what you know -- and what Janet knows best is being a label whore. She makes Plum Sykes look like Don DeLillo, so bad that in the past week, the only mention of her on the GogBlog was another Gogger dissing her. And how pathetic is that?

21. James F. of Why I Hate D.C.: Why do you hate D.C., James? Does that skyline that peeks above the Pentagon as the 395 rounds a corner make you shudder with hate to the point that you turn off to the G.W. Parkway at the last minute rather than actually making it all the way to 14th Street?

This guy obsesses about the murder rate, but spends his time in soulless NoVa, where he bitches about how there's nothing to do. Sure, he'll visit every now and then, picking out the worst places to go and bitching about them, but I won't likely him and his dumbass SuperSonics jacket loading up a U-Haul for Manhattan. It just goes to show that boredom is life-affirming for the miserable but snooty.

20. Ian MacKaye of Minor Threat, Fugazi, Pailhead, Embrace and The Evens etc.: The D.C. punk/emo scene isn't nearly as big as you think, thanks to MacKaye's relentless bulking-up of Dischord's back catalog. His latest effort has been described nearly everywhere as painfully monotonous, but because it's Ian f*cking MacKaye, formerly of Fugazi and Minor f*cking Threat, it gets a grudging respect. Out-of-town reviewers often talk about how D.C. punk draws from the city's political energy, but I don't think they mean the concept of seniority. Think of MacKaye as the Strom Thurmond of Dischord: Well past his prime, but he's stuck around so long that they let him hold the gavel now and then.

 

19. Borf: What began as a curiosity inducing spree of creatively placed tags has lapsed into numbing ubiquity as the grafitti artist known as Borf, after claiming his place in the local zeitgeist with eye-catching stencils and sundry feats of derring-do, has devolved into something annoying and ennui-producing. Even worse are the haters in his wake who bite his steez everywhere and only remind the viewer of how he's worn out his welcome. So played out that we fully expect to see "Borf loves the new tender crisp bacon cheddar ranch from Burger King" scrawled on the Whitehurst Freeway any day now.

18. Robert Novak: When Jon Stewart calls Novak a "douchebag of liberty," he's being kind. Novak is fright--he's a gargolyle that looks like he's been made of cheese and left out in the sun for a week. Utterly mendacious and thoroughly meretricious, this walking sack of shit is the type of person you cross the street into oncoming traffic to avoid. When he walks over your shadow, you lose a piece of your soul. It figures that when Karl Rove needed someone nominally involved in the press to commit treason and sell out one of our nation's spies, Novak was first in line and dancing for the chance. Novak's no journalist, he's a dirty bag man without the brainwaves to create anything original on his own. In fact, the only difference between he and Terri Schiavo's corpse is that the corpse was beloved.

17. Restaurateur Jeff Tunks: Have you ever wondered why downtown eating sucks so much? Blame Jeffy, owner/partner of the fusion trifecta of Ceiba, TenPenh and DC Coast. Each of these joints are one carefully-planned degree from the traditional Washington power steakhouse, calibrated for expense-account lawyers and lobbyists to have a good meal at a posh setting without having to deal with any of those scary New York/LA restaurant trends (sitting on the floor, raw food, Lindsay Lohan puking in your soup, etc.). So take your Malpeque oysters and your cr*p on a stick (sorry, skewers) -- I'll be at Ben's.

16. Carol Thompson, former Riggs Bank executive: I held a Riggs bank account for about three months a few years back, and they didn't waste any opportunity to charge me an extra fee for something or other, whether it was seeing a teller in person or not smiling as I entered their (admittedly very nice) Columbia Road branch. While that's par for the course in modern banking, the slow $1 or $2 drip-drip-drip from my painfully-small waiters' pay to their pockets is even more insulting now that we know Riggs is a bank for dictators the world over. The loathsome Thompson cheerily spirited away millions for Chilean strongman Augusto Pinochet. So next time a Riggs ATM asks you for $2 to get to your money, you can let them have it with the knowledge that it's paying the fines for what Nixon, Kissinger and the University of Chicago economics department hath wrought.

15. Cleveland Park Men's Club: Like a sad-sack version of Kelly Ann Collins posse, The Cleveland Park Men's Club are the type of people who keep dated dreck like Defending the Caveman coming back for return engagements. Using some alternaweird reading of history to mask their mincing fright of labias, the Cleveland Park Men's Club assert that essential maleness was the key ingredient to the whole of civilization. It doesn't exactly explain why these essential males have thus far given civilization nothing more than a blog, and I scoff at the idea that I'm supposed to be impressed with the fact that they can fix a sink trap (it's called take your forty bucks and don't stink up my house, there, son). And, just as a quick aside, fellas, if you aren't Cambridge-educated, using the antiquated word "whilst" makes you look like a bit of a ponce. Far from building a case for the primacy of the testicle-enabled, the See Pee Emcees don't quite grasp that their social Darwinist argument has long ago blownback on their ilk, and that their natterings make them look like a recent entry in the Culture of Victimhood. "Queen For A Day" was cancelled a long time ago, boys. Save your money and buy your own damn dishwasher.

14. Ketchum Public Relations: When the Armstrong Williams story broke this year and I heard that there was a PR firm somewhere mixed up in the middle of all the graft and corruption, I nailed it on the first guess. Ketchum. If you've ever read anything by PR Watch, you recognize the name. When it comes to selling toxic waste sauce to go on ADM's genetically enhanced bovine spongiburgers, no one's more willing to sell your poison than these bastards. They are so rotten to the core that when Erin Brockovich offers them the glass of hexavalent chromium they knock it back and ask for more. Says one colleague who works at Ketchum, "Yep. We're fucking evil." She's asked to remain anonymous, obviously, because she knows her boss would impregnate her with Rosemary's Baby if she were ever caught dishing on them.

13. Rep. Ernest Istook (R-Okla.): Since I announced the creation of this list, people have told me that I have a very, very long list of people in Congress from which to draw, assuming that they count as Washingtonians. While the vast majority of Congresspeople don't care much for the District and jet to fundraisers back home as soon as possible, the metro area has drawn the attention of this guy, so he will stand in as pure concentrated liquid douchebaggery for the rest of the asshats in Congress who think we're too dumb to vote.

You may recall that it was Istook who tried to block funding any transit agency (such as WMATA) that runs ads from groups seeking to change drug laws. It was such a naked violation of the constitution that even the speaking-in-tongues Ashcroft Justice Department said it didn't have a leg to stand on. Just like a shy flower waiting for a chance to bloom... getting accosted by Black Israelites on the way out of the Metro Center Station, sometimes attention isn't a good thing.

12. George Michael: Local sportscaster George Michael oozes such charmless homerism and braying witlessness that it almost makes you want to pick against the home team. Michael likes to appear tough-minded on the set of his wisely-relegated-to-the-wee-hours Full Court Press, but it doesn't take intense study to see that Michael doesn't really know much about sports. His points are routinely lacking in intelligence and he is frequently reduced to mindless carping at his assembled guests -- when he's not alternatively blowing smoke up their ass instead. His "Sports Machine" program was dated a decade ago, and looks so chintzy that it makes you wonder if he stole the Sports Machine set off the third-season Doctor Who backlot at BBC.

11. Carolyn Hax, Washington Post advice columnist: Are there any among the lovelorn who aren’t sorry after they’ve taken their plight to this Fen-Phenned harridan of hackery? Operating from the position that there’s no better medicine than woefully uncalled for ridicule, she generously peppers her advice with belittling barbs. It might yet be amusing if she wasn’t recycling the same old put downs week in and week out, but she’s too damn dim to notice she’s about eight short of playing the dozens. Of course, her own marriage was no great shakes, though to her credit, once she managed to break her ex-husband illustrator, he stayed broken. Still, it’s impossible to see her column as anything other than the bitter remodeling of her own glass house.

10. An anthropomorphic representation of Safeway: For years, the worst inner-city neighborhoods have been plagued by bad supermarkets where poorer consumers spend more money on a smaller variety of less-healthy food. That is, if they had a supermarket at all. Even in rich neighborhoods, urban supermarkets were dirty and badly-stocked. Now that we have Whole Foods and are expecting Trader Joe's and Harris Teeter, gentrifiers no longer have to worry about purchasing spoiled milk or brown broccoli. But in a way, it's nice to know that D.C. Safeways (as compared to the very nice Montgomery County stores) are still operating at the same low quality as always so we can be reminded that even when there is profit to be made, some companies will always write off urban and minority consumers as willing to accept whatever they can get.

9. Peggy Cooper Cafritz: DC's Public Schools are, by most measures, a complete and utter shambles, this despite the fact that nobody tosses more hard currency into the education maw than Washington. There's no one solution, and there's no one problem. But if I had my druthers, DC Board of Education President Peggy Cooper Cafritz would have walked the plank years
ago.Cafritz's ambitions do not lie in the betterment of area schools -- her ambitions are an end in themselves. She's far more concerned with internecine spitball fights and territorial pissing matches -- that's her life's work. I doubt there's anything even related to school improvement on her to-do list, considering the time she spends keeping watch over her petty fiefdom. And woe betide you if cross her, as DCPS transportation administrator David Gilmore recently discovered. Ordered by the courts to relieve the school system's busing dysfunction, Gilmore requested additional budget dollars to implement a system that would meet court guidelines, only to get stonewalled by Cafritz because, well, there is no "because" other than the fact that she saw it as an encroachment. So the court's guidelines won't be met and, as usual, the students get screwed, and Cafritz goes right on knowing nothing about the school system under her purview other than the places where she puddles her urine.

8. Peter Angelos, owner, Baltimore Orioles: While Peter thankfully remains a safe distance away from DC, his loathsomeness is so voluminous that its daily oozings down the BW Parkway leave most Washingtonians envious of people who get to live near Muqtada Al-Sadr. Angelos has been as resolute in his determination to field one of the most mediocre products Major League Baseball has to offer as he has been idiotic in paying out the ass for his third-rate personnel. But what really makes him despicable is the petulant way he’s done everything possible to force DC to satisfy his whims, whether it’s been the lone braying loudmouth to stand against Washington’s franchise hopes or the mewling way he insisted he owned the television rights for the entire mid-Atlantic. Now stocked with declining bat-corker Sammy Sosa, look for the Orioles to wrap up the meaningful part of their season before the All-Star Break. Yet again.

7. DC101's Eliot in the Morning: The demise of WHFS has shown modern rock to be a fragile medium in this media market. That's why it's such a shame that the one remaining station decides fill its airtime with idiots like Elliot. This whiny-sounding jerk with an annoying laugh is a case study in how not to do the rock format. HFS started sucking some years ago when it started narrowcasting to angsty suburban teens and abandoning college students and others who enjoyed variety and exposure to new music. By playing Linkin Park 27 times a day and ceding the morning commute by running Elliot's dog-and-pony show, the former home of Howard Stern should be all-Hindi news and talk by years' end.

6. Sahir Erozan (owner; Cities. Leftbank): Erozan presided over the culinary train-wreck that was Cities, a restaurant with a singularly retarded gimmick -- that every so often, it would refashion itself after another city somewhere in the world. This thematic schizophrenia naturally resulted in half-assed food at stratospheric prices. By the time you made your way through a badly-burned unrecognizable piece of meat or flavorless soup, you knew that the joke was on you. The blight that was Cities has been replaced by the ungodly Leftbank, of which one look inside at it's severe and charmless decor tells you straight away that it's ground zero for Eurotrash pricks and the cumdumpsters who love them. Plus, apparently, they've got some inelegant racists on staff -- one Tryst bartender, and African-American, who wandered in to wish the rechristened Leftbankers some friendly luck was treated as if he were a walking leper colony by a maitre d' who snapped at him whenever it looked like he might breathe on a
piece of furniture or talk to someone. There is a quiet yet persistent rumor in Adams Morgan that Leftbank may be soon to shutter. We fervently hope this is true.

5. Adam Eidinger, candidate-for-life, poli-sci dilettante: Why work at winning friends and influencing people when it’s so much easier to act a fool? While DC residents wait for their richly deserved Constitutional rights, they can stare at the antics of Adam Eidinger, strutting and fretting his way across the public stage with all the tact of a doughy Napoleon Dynamite. There’s no reasoned position that Adam can’t turn into some surreal non-sequitur, like his obtuse Chinese dragon pyromania in Manhattan or his sore-loser bum rush of the Washington Nationals celebration, where the pudgy Green party wunderkind nearly got his ass beat by man in grandpa diapers. If Eidinger has been a part of the original no taxation without representation crew, we’d be a nation of Tories to this day.

 

4. Washington Examimer Publisher Philip Anshutz: We're not about to begrudge anyone for providing us with something new to read, even if its op-eds are a dumbed-down version of the already fairly dumb Wall Street Journal op-ed page. If there is room for the Moonies in the city's newspaper racks, there is room for another view. But where did he get the bright idea to get former David Duke canvassers to organize distribution. If relentless praise of the neocon agenda and failed Laffer Curve economics is so great for white readers, why freeze out entire minority neighborhoods even if they earn the sort of incomes your advertisers want a piece of? They call D.C. "Chocolate City" for a reason, and it isn't because of the fine desserts offered by the city's restaurants. How about a little love for people east of the park?

3. Ana Marie Cox: In these days of Wi-Fi coffeehouses and Blackberrying in memos from the beach, phoning it in isn't the epithet it used to be. Thus, we need to invent a new word for Mrs. Cox, who graced us with her presence after working for years on failed web publishing ventures that lacked the stunning ignorance of her Gawker Media branch office. Apathetactular? Lazyriffic? Nay, mere words do not describe a woman who storms into the blogosphere on a wave of publicity, proceeds to show that she can't do basic research despite the team of flunkies at her beck and call, break one interesting story, revert for months to writing little more than news summaries and then leave altogether, participating in panel discussions or drunkenly writing a soon-to-be-remaindered quickie book while her interns actually do a far better job as stand-ins.

2. House Majority Leader Tom Delay (R-Texas): He may be the most despicable piece of vermin currently darkening our fair city -- if he went swimming in New Orleans, he'd be mistaken for a nutria and shot for sport. Having ground what little ethical compass he may have possessed under his bootheel long ago, Delay has graduated from party hack to fusspot tinhorn despot through graft and intimidation. He uses poor children as a front for his backroom money deals, sluicing money to and fro between cronies and PACs cheating whatever system he can't just game. He's called The Hammer because of the way he manhandles his Congressional colleagues, but out in the real world, he's actually a noteworthy pussy. There's no one in Washington more roaring drunk on power: the most famous story of Delay's classless behavior was his response to Ruth's Chris Steak House manager Tom Khandker, who, after pointing out that Delay's smoking inside the building (the restaurant was housed in a Smithsonian property) was prohibited by the federal government, received Delay's ill-tempered rejoinder: "I am the Federal Government." In the future, Tom, your response should be: "Really? Well, then, as my public servant, I am going to suggest that if you don't want me to bend you over my knee and extinguish your cigar somewhere in the vicinity of your duodenum, you'll take you and your stogie the hell outside before you get throatpunched." Of course, there is an upside to Delay: apparently, his daughter is a huge skank.

1. Councilman Adrian Fenty: It's always a little sad when someone spends his career groping for a job he'll never have. Like the aging outfielder stuck playing AA ball or the ass-kissing corporate VP always looking for a promotion he's too dumb or too subservient to get, baldie here is aiming for Minister of Virtue and Vice, but the best he can expect is mayor of this dirty burg, if he gets that far. First, he gets the Council (motto: slightly more powerful than the Pyongyang School Board) to ban the sale of individual 40s in his district, as if drunks couldn't just stumble to the next ward over. But hey, Fenty's Fourth Ward is like circa-1999 Afghanistan: A fervently moralistic leadership attempts to keep the population under its thumb, walled off from its neighbors by forbidding mountain ranges and lawless border areas full of armed men riding around in the beds of Toyota pickup trucks. At least that's how Fenty sees it.

But now that the shiny-headed mullah is looking to expand his domain to the entire District by replacing that bowtied heathen Tony Williams, the whole city must be purified. So now it's violent video games, or games in which you can do things often seen in D.C., like shooting people. This is unlike Fenty-safe games that simulate ice hockey or arranging geometrical shapes as they descend ever-faster so as to form even lines of bricks, at which point they disappear.

So if an alcohol-impaired Fourth Warder can make it down the block to a liquor store in another ward (which would, I suppose make Jim Graham D.C.'s Musharraf), a minor can take the Metro to Pentagon City to get Grand Theft Auto. So here's hoping Fenty will eventually tire of his crusade and let us fester in the moral rot that we pay all that extra rent to enjoy.

Posted by rj3 at April 10, 2005 8:37 PM

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» Drumroll . . . from Restless Mania
DCSOB has finally posted Washington's Most Loathsome, co-authored also by DCeiver. It's wunderbar. [Read More]

Tracked on April 11, 2005 11:23 AM

» The Most Loathsome Washingtonians from Article Online
DCSOB and DCiever had a list of the 28 or so most loathsome Washingonians, which is pretty hard to do. I mean, only 28 people? There is a lot to loathe about this city, so I'm suprised these guys had... [Read More]

Tracked on April 11, 2005 3:01 PM

» and me, and wolf blitzer. from The Regular Staple
if we're including an anthropomorphization of safeway, can we not get a nod for CVS? [Read More]

Tracked on April 11, 2005 3:33 PM

» Most Loathsome Restaurateur? from DCFUD
Fellow DCFUD-blogger rj3, who regularly blogs over at Smorgasblog partner DCSOB has posted the list of Washington DC's 28 Most Loathsome People. Coming in at #17 is the Jeff Tunks, owner of Ceiba, TenPenh, and DC Coast. RJ3 has... [Read More]

Tracked on April 11, 2005 6:37 PM

» Just a slob like one of us from dustbury.com
DCSOB's list of Washington's Most Loathsome manages to include one person from this neck of the woods: 13. Rep. Ernest Istook (R-Okla.): Since I announced the creation of this list,... [Read More]

Tracked on April 12, 2005 3:00 PM

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