D.C. is the Capital … of Parties

Inaugural bashes lit up the weekend

Average Americans have always despised Washington insider types, and for good reason: regardless of who's president, their underlings and staffers are invariably a bunch of hedonist degenerates who spend all their free time guzzling scotch in swank Georgetown bars and making elaborate "fur" coats out of the rats that pave the D.C. streets like cobblestones.

This weekend, we witnessed again the horrifying spectacle of politically connected types drinking their faces off and acting like complete obnoxious buffoons at very glitzy parties that the rest of us weren't invited to.

Let's see what the Interblogs have to tell us about these vile party-goers and their debauched shenanigans...

Christopher Hitchens, the drink-soaked former Trotskyist popinjay and Iraq war clown, held a party at his fancy D.C. apartment and threatened to make out with poor Andrew Sullivan:

Inside, Hitchens opined on whether the Obama administration should answers calls from the left to prosecute Bush administration officials for illegal interrogation of prisoners: “As long as it's agreed that these steps were taken in response to public demand,” he began, only to be interrupted by Andrew Sullivan, who greeted him with a hug and a kiss. “I want tongue. Give me tongue,” Hitchens implored, to no avail. “No, I'm not giving you tongue,” Sullivan replied, feigning astonishment. “Let the record show: Sullivan wouldn't give tongue,” Hitchens replied. (“He's gayer than I am!” Sullivan later told us.)

Things were a little tamer at Glen Echo Park in Maryland, where packs of frozen Bush pals gathered to drink Budweiser in an unheated room and discuss their meager and depressing job prospects.

Many staffers had spent the weekend clearing out their offices. The question I kept hearing was "What's next?" Some were applying to grad schools, others were heading to D.C. law firms or think tanks, and others were returning to their home states or traveling. One outgoing Treasury employee had already landed a job as a manager at Abercrombie & Fitch.

But by far the saddest and most debased party was held by the so-called political satire blog Wonkette, which invaded a Bikram yoga studio and welcomed whoever would lower themselves to associating with a bunch of immoral slobs who don't even really "work" for a living. The hosts couldn't afford a real Barack Obama, so they purchased some cheap cardboard cutout with a white man's hands. And, in a weird precursor to Inauguration Day's inevitable bathroom tragedies,the toilet broke.

[W]e hosted an Inaugural Ball Friday to commemorate the first president, Barack Obama. Hundreds of people showed up just in time for the bathroom to break completely. Liz Glover even showed up to her party, eventually! No one was killed, but hey, we can’t have ALL the excitement. [...] Then YOU PEOPLE showed up, some with your own beer, some to drink our fancy kegs of Yuengling beer! A lot of people went outside to pee and their pee was just stone cold freezin’ on the ground. Oh boy!

Ugh, gross. Remember, Obama voters: you brought this on the nation. If John McCain were getting sworn in as the 44th president, the inaugural festivities would have consisted of several very sedate Bingo games and a Lincoln Center show featuring the lighthearted, tasteful comic stylings of Soupy Sales.

Sara K. Smith writes for Wonkette, but did not attend that publication's terrible party.

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