I can be reached at ink.stained at comcast.net.

Ted…I think you may have a drinking problem. I truly think you should get that checked out. — Daisy

Problem? The only way I’ll have a problem is if they start putting child-proof caps on scotch bottles. — Muttered to self by Ted Boynton

From Pajiba.

How small? I was talking on the phone with my father this morning when he mentioned the news report of an apparent murder in DC’s Adams Morgan neighborhood last month. Be careful out there, he warned me.

The subject came up it because the victim in the case had been staying with the son of a long-time friend of his my father’s. Having heard of a murder — even two degrees of separation removed from him — spooked my old man.

As we we talking about it I glanced at a copy of the Washington City Paper laying across my desk. The cover story was about a guy who had been mugged, beaten and died just four days after moving to the district.

Yup, it was the same guy:

For his trip out East, [Chrisopher] Savage leaned heavily on his friend—and only tie to D.C.—Vinnie Betette. He asked for phone numbers of Betette’s friends so he would have plenty of people to call in case he ever got stuck roaming city streets alone. He ended one note: “sorry if I sound like a worry wort I am just over stimulated and exmutherfuckencitedd.”

When Savage arrived at Dulles, Betette, 30, waited there to pick him up, as promised.

They drove into D.C. in Betette’s 2000 green Ford Escort, a box of kitty litter in the backseat. Among his bags, Savage had brought what he called his “Brady Bunch suitcase,” a hard purple piece of luggage.

In March, Savage had called up his friend and pitched the idea of moving cross-country to stay with him. “I was all for it,” Betette recalls. “I loved having the dude around. My girlfriend and I talked about it. We’d give him a month [in our apartment].”

Vinnie Betette must be Vince Betette Jr., because my father has hunted with a guy named Vince Betette for 30 years. I know Betette senior, and have hunted with him myself, but have never met his son.

The City Paper story itself is pretty tragic: Savage, a well-liked but hard-luck guy comes to DC to start over, gets a job working at the Black Cat, is mugged and beaten brutally on the way home from his very first day of work, and is found dead the following morning. It’s not clear if the beating was what killed him; he had other health problems. An autopsy is being performed.

I was weird to realize that I had a connection to the story, even one a few degrees removed, especially since I had once frequented many of the bars and clubs mentioned in the story. Small town, indeed.

Over the weekend Jeremy finally got around to giving his guest-blogger for life a copy of his new book, The Warm Bucket Brigade: The Story of the American Vice Presidency. I’ve been reading it in-between work and getting my ass kicked.

I gotta say, this is one terrific book: solid history, politically insightful, well-written and seriously funny. I mean funny in the way The Daily Show used to be years ago before it started taking itself seriously. And for the record I would say this even if I weren’t thoroughly, completely biased, which I am.

Take this section regarding the political scene in the early 19th century (aka The Golden Age of Muttonchops):

“As for [President Martin] Van Buren himself, [Congressman Charles] Ogle alleged that he strutted “by the hour before golden-framed mirrors, nine feet high and four feet and a half wide.” The president dined on “fricandas de veau and omelette souffle,” and afterwards he cleaned his “pretty tapering soft, white lily fingers” by immersing them in “Fanny Kemble Green finger cups.”

Short of saying, “You’re so gay,” it’s hard to imagine how the congressman could have been more obvious. After he published his “Golden Spoon Oration” and distributed it at his own expense, the whole country was chuckling.

Van Buren’s response was a day late and about three thousand dollars short. Commissioner of Public Buildings William Noland certified that “no gold knives or forks or spoons of any description have been purchased for the President’s house since Mr. Van Buren became the Chief Magistrate of the Nation.”

The charge was groundless and effective.

So buy the damn book already.

Nick Gillespie was kind enough to post my American Spectator article on Barack Obama’s agnosticism over at Reason’s Hit & Run blog.

This was my favorite posting from the comment thread, written by “Shem”:

[Quoting from the article] Well, it wouldn’t have annoyed him that much if Keyes wasn’t onto something.

So, if I tell Sean Higgins’ boss that Sean has been raping children, when he sputters an angry denial to said boss to defend his job I can say “you wouldn’t be so annoyed if I wasn’t on to something!”

Sir, I protest. The only thing I’ve ever raped is the memory of Heath Ledger.

I have an article up at the American Spectator about Barack Obama’s faith … or lack thereof. That is, I out him as a closet agnostic:

Yet after Wright’s recent appearance at Washington’s National Press Club, I re-read the chapter on faith in Obama’s memoir, The Audacity of Hope. I was trying to figure out how the senator could have sat in Wright’s pews for two decades without being aware of the pastor’s radical views (as he claims). After all, the title of the book was taken from one of Wright’s sermons.

The chapter candidly recounts Obama’s transformation from religious skeptic to Christian churchgoer under Wright’s tutelage. What is striking about the story it tells, though, is what isn’t there: any sort of claim to a truly religious epiphany.

That’s a key part of most conversation narratives. The skeptic casts aside doubt and takes the proverbial leap of faith, embracing the religion in all of its doctrines — even the more peculiar ones.

Obama pretty clearly indicates that wasn’t the case with him. At the end of the chapter Obama describes tucking his daughter into bed and trying to answer her question about what happens when we die.

“I wondered whether I should have told her the truth, that I wasn’t sure what happens when we die, any more than I was sure of where the soul resides,” he writes.

No happy bedtime talk about heaven for this father.

Read the whole thing here.

This is a damn good question.

From the review of Iron Man at spiritualityandpractice.com:

Jon Favreau directs this action drama based on a Marvel superhero series. The only thing that makes it watchable are the performances of Downey, Paltrow, and Bridges; they bring real presence to their characters and make you care about what happens to them. Considering that the U.S. remains the number one arms dealer in the world, it’s pleasing to see one person give up the business of making a profit on the death of others. It would be even nicer to see a superhero who is a nonviolent pacifist creatively spreading peace. (Emphasis added.)

I believe the superhero they are looking for is called Christ the Redeemer. He has a pretty awesome origin, being the earthly embodiment of an all-powerful, extra-dimensional being. Christ can walk on water, hypnotize crowds, create things out of thin air and resurrect himself, among other awesome superpowers. His adventures are told in a series called the New Testament, where he does indeed bring peace to untold millions.

I hear the series remains very popular even though they stopped publishing new adventures a while ago (There are rumors, though, that he may come back). I’m surprised that the people at spiritualityandpractice.com don’t seem to have heard of him.

The Union Pub, Friday afternon:

Guy enjoying happy hour: “Hey, you’re Christopher Hitchens! I didn’t recognize you before.”

Hitchens: “Well, why not?”

A new Raiders of the Lost Ark film, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, will be released soon, with Harrison Ford reprising the starring role. Ford turns 66 (!) years old in June.

With that in mind I’d like to suggest a few titles that might be appropriate for the next Indiana Jones sequel:

10 — Indiana Jones and the Curse of Matlock.

09 — Indiana Jones and the Temple of the Early-Bird Special.

08 — Indiana Jones and the Assisted-Living Home of the Damned.

07 — Indiana Jones and the Large-Print Dead Sea Scrolls.

06 — Indiana Jones and the Dark Secret of the Antiques Roadshow.

05 — Indiana Jones and the Seven Seductions of the Golden Girls.

04 — Indiana Jones and the Hidden Kingdom of Atlantic City.

03 — Indiana Jones and the Lost Treasure of the Social Security Lockbox.

02 — Indiana Jones and the Quest for Viagra.

01 — Indiana Jones and the Revenge of the Prune Danish.