Semiquincentennial Blues

It is July 4, 2026, and dear friends and family, Washington, DC is kind of a clusterfuck at the moment. Perhaps it's the triple-digit heat index. Or the low-level flyovers of military aircraft over the last several days, entertainment for the sunstroke victims on the National Mall.

Maybe it's the on-going air quality alert and that the plan for this evening is to have some over-paid, under-qualified contractor SpaceX 80 times more fireworks than have been launched before in DC into the stagnant night sky.

It could be the National Guard troops and armored vehicles controlling access to one of the city's and nation's most storied public spaces, forcing pedestrians, bicyclists, and public buses on long detours to destinations a couple hundred yards away.

Possibly, it's the National Guard troops I've seen wandering on residential streets miles away from the events on the Mall in immigrant neighborhoods in Columbia Heights and the historically Black communities East of the River.

The ridiculous images being broadcast of the Reflecting Pool and the under-attended fair on the Mall are evidence of both the competence of the people putting on the events and the contempt with which the public holds them. They are inept, and if I believed their goal was to dazzle us with some sort of Trumpian "biggest celebration ever" bullshit, I'd be laughing. But the fact is this is an on-going fuck you to DC - the walling off or reckless alterations of public spaces, the children and pets terrorized by constant military aircraft and late-night explosions, the wondering if the troops in your neighborhood are just meandering through or are part of a perimeter to grab a neighbor.

This isn't a celebration.

This is an occupation.

Please tell the 24 state governors who have sent troops to DC to bring them home.