Hill Rag | February 2008

The Nose

by: Anonymous

Noose Tossing
The Nose has never been much of a professional sports fan. He greeted the arrival of the Nationals with a shrug and has pointedly ignored the Redskins for years.

However, The Nose has become intrigued by a new sport, “Noose Tossing,” recently profiled in The Washington Post (Jan. 26, Page B05).

Invented by two electrical subcontractors, a Mr. White and a Mr. Cross, Noose Tossing has become all the rage among Caucasian, ex-burb construction workers building the new stadium.

The game commences with the two contestants checking their environs to make sure that there are no African Americans present. After all, anyone with a modicum of racial sensitivity might object to trafficking in this symbol of white supremacy.

Once the coast is clear, a player fashions a noose from any available piece of twine or rope. He then tosses his creation at his opponent, declaring, "Here, I made you a neck tie." From this point on, the course of the sport is a little murky.

However, the game clearly ends when the noose is thrown on the floor. Expert players often leave their work on the ground to impress coworkers with their creativity.

The Nose wishes that the Post had devoted more attention to the details of this fascinating new sport. How does one win? Is there a point system? Would tying a Windsor knot, for example, offer competitive advantage? Do the players have uniforms? Perhaps white hoods?

The Nose has a simple question for his readers, "Had this incident occurred in hallowed academic halls would the Post's editors have chosen to bury it in the back of the Metro section?" What if Colby King had discovered a noose on the newsroom floor?

While one cannot fault the decisive action taken by the DC Sports and Entertainment Commission in firing the contractors, Mayor Blackberry has yet to comment. Perhaps both he and the commissioners are reluctant to take a hard look at the racial politics of the construction unions this close to the stadium's completion or evaluate the effectiveness of the venture's Project Labor Agreement.

Lost & Found
The Nose, dear readers, is never one for filing papers. Why put something in a cabinet when one can use it to adorn one’s desk?

As a fellow member of the clutter club, The Nose would like to recognize At-Large Councilmember Phil Mendelson for his exquisite sense of interior design. Mendelson's office is awash in a sea of paper. Towering piles threaten to topple on the unsuspecting staffer.

The very sight of Mendelson's lair is enough to induce hives among the fastidious, according to one council wag.

Here are seven items that might lie underneath all the blizzard of paper:

Jimmy Hoffa's Body
Mayor Blackberry's Sense of Humor
Plans for the Barney Circle Throughway
Jim Graham's Spare Bow Tie
John Ray's Checkbook
Harold Brazil's Little Black Book
A Pair of Doug Jemal's Cowboy Boots

The Nose is sure that the councilmember can find everything he needs despite his uniquely chaotic system of filing.

My Fair Fenty
Our Mayor-for-Life, the honorable Marion Barry, has never been characterized as shy. In fact, he is a well-known aficionado of karaoke, performing periodically at DC State Democratic functions.

During the council’s raucous school hearings, The Nose is certain that he overheard the esteemed councilmember from Ward 8 humming along to the score of “My Fair Lady,”

Just you wait, Mr. Mayor, just you wait!
You'll be sorry, but your tears'll be too late!
You'll be trying to win reelection;
and get no help from my connections!
Just you wait, Mr. Mayor, just you wait!
Just you wait, Mr. Mayor, when you call from the nick,
And you scream to fetch a lawyer double-quick.
I'll be off a second later. And go straight to the the-ater!
Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor, just you wait!
Ooooooh Mr. Mayor!
Just you wait until you’re falling in the polls!
Ooooooh Mr. Mayor!
And School Reform has sprung a bunch of holes!
When the public shouts you down I'll get dressed
and go to town! Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor!
Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor! Just you wait!
One day when my wisdom will be clearly shown;
Go to the White House so often I will call it home!
One evening President Obama will say:
"Oh, Marion, old thing,
I want all of America your praises to sing.
Next week on the fifth of May
I proclaim Marion Barry Day!
All the people will celebrate the glory of you
And whatever you wish and want I gladly will do."
"Thanks a lot, Prez" says I, in a manner well-bred;
But all I want is Mayor Fenty's head!"
"Done," says the President with a stroke.
"Agent, run and bring in the bloke!"
Then they'll march you, Mr. Mayor to the wall;
And the President will tell me: "Marion, sound the call."
As they lift their rifles higher, I'll shout:
"Ready! Aim! Fire!"
Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor,
Down you'll go, Mr. Mayor!
Just you wait!

While Barry may have lost skirmishes over the schools and Poplar Point, he is likely to dance to his own tune rather than tapping his toes to the ring tones of the Blackberry administration.


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The Nose

by: Anonymous
Noose Tossing The Nose has never been much of a professional sports fan. He greeted the arrival of the Nationals with a shrug and has pointedly ignored the Redskins for years. However, The Nose has become intrigued by a new sport, “Noose Tossing,” recently profiled in The Washington Post (Jan. 26, Page B05). Invented by two electrical subcontractors, a Mr. White and a Mr. Cross, Noose Tossing has become all the rage among Caucasian, ex-burb construction workers building the new stadium. The game commences with the two contestants checking their environs to make sure that there are no African Americans present. After all, anyone with a modicum of racial sensitivity might object to trafficking in this symbol of white supremacy. Once the coast is clear, a player fashions a noose from any available piece of twine or rope. He then tosses his creation at his opponent, declaring, "Here, I made you a neck tie." From this point on, the course of the sport is a little murky. However, the game clearly ends when the noose is thrown on the floor. Expert players often leave their work on the ground to impress coworkers with their creativity. The Nose wishes that the Post had devoted more attention to the details of this fascinating new sport. How does one win? Is there a point system? Would tying a Windsor knot, for example, offer competitive advantage? Do the players have uniforms? Perhaps white hoods? The Nose has a simple question for his readers, "Had this incident occurred in hallowed academic halls would the Post's editors have chosen to bury it in the back of the Metro section?" What if Colby King had discovered a noose on the newsroom floor? While one cannot fault the decisive action taken by the DC Sports and Entertainment Commission in firing the contractors, Mayor Blackberry has yet to comment. Perhaps both he and the commissioners are reluctant to take a hard look at the racial politics of the construction unions this close to the stadium's completion or evaluate the effectiveness of the venture's Project Labor Agreement. Lost & Found The Nose, dear readers, is never one for filing papers. Why put something in a cabinet when one can use it to adorn one’s desk? As a fellow member of the clutter club, The Nose would like to recognize At-Large Councilmember Phil Mendelson for his exquisite sense of interior design. Mendelson's office is awash in a sea of paper. Towering piles threaten to topple on the unsuspecting staffer. The very sight of Mendelson's lair is enough to induce hives among the fastidious, according to one council wag. Here are seven items that might lie underneath all the blizzard of paper: Jimmy Hoffa's Body Mayor Blackberry's Sense of Humor Plans for the Barney Circle Throughway Jim Graham's Spare Bow Tie John Ray's Checkbook Harold Brazil's Little Black Book A Pair of Doug Jemal's Cowboy Boots The Nose is sure that the councilmember can find everything he needs despite his uniquely chaotic system of filing. My Fair Fenty Our Mayor-for-Life, the honorable Marion Barry, has never been characterized as shy. In fact, he is a well-known aficionado of karaoke, performing periodically at DC State Democratic functions. During the council’s raucous school hearings, The Nose is certain that he overheard the esteemed councilmember from Ward 8 humming along to the score of “My Fair Lady,” Just you wait, Mr. Mayor, just you wait! You'll be sorry, but your tears'll be too late! You'll be trying to win reelection; and get no help from my connections! Just you wait, Mr. Mayor, just you wait! Just you wait, Mr. Mayor, when you call from the nick, And you scream to fetch a lawyer double-quick. I'll be off a second later. And go straight to the the-ater! Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor, just you wait! Ooooooh Mr. Mayor! Just you wait until you’re falling in the polls! Ooooooh Mr. Mayor! And School Reform has sprung a bunch of holes! When the public shouts you down I'll get dressed and go to town! Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor! Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor! Just you wait! One day when my wisdom will be clearly shown; Go to the White House so often I will call it home! One evening President Obama will say: "Oh, Marion, old thing, I want all of America your praises to sing. Next week on the fifth of May I proclaim Marion Barry Day! All the people will celebrate the glory of you And whatever you wish and want I gladly will do." "Thanks a lot, Prez" says I, in a manner well-bred; But all I want is Mayor Fenty's head!" "Done," says the President with a stroke. "Agent, run and bring in the bloke!" Then they'll march you, Mr. Mayor to the wall; And the President will tell me: "Marion, sound the call." As they lift their rifles higher, I'll shout: "Ready! Aim! Fire!" Oh ho ho, Mr. Mayor, Down you'll go, Mr. Mayor! Just you wait! While Barry may have lost skirmishes over the schools and Poplar Point, he is likely to dance to his own tune rather than tapping his toes to the ring tones of the Blackberry administration.