Meeting Notes from Retired DC Bloggers Union Local 202

Only one agenda item this time around, but it’s a doozy.  The Playaz Ball is no more.  There are those who doubted this day would ever come, but I never did.  Because on a long enough timeline…

Ah yes, timing.  One of art’s least discussed but most indispensable attributes.  Too soon, and you languish in obscurity.  Too late and you’re a derivative hack.  And I’ll tell ya folks, if there’s anything the Retired DC Bloggers Union Local 202 hates more than slow bartenders, it’s derivative hacks.

Phil and the Playaz arrived when we needed them most.  They were many things (several of them illegal) but you gotta hand it those guys - they were utterly original.  And they were ours.

Five or six years ago, before the medium matured and entered the mainstream discussion, folks around here started blogs in much the same way they might have formed punk rock bands in 70′s.  No one to emulate, no formal training, no rulebook, no plan.  Just a simple desire to be on the vanguard of a new form of artistic expression, get on the stage, and make some hellacious, snarling noise.

And sweet jaysus, what a noise we made.  For a while anyway.  But on a long enough timeline…

Phil’s candidacy is assured of course.  First-ballot, and likely to be unanimous if someone could just shake the Rock Creek Rambler a few times and wake him up.  Phil?  The Charles Barkley of DC Blogging?  A larger-than-life figure who could say absolutely anything and always get away with it?  No question.

Direct Current makes a motion to accept Phil into the Retired DC Bloggers Union Local 202, and it is seconded by Baby Bird.  And as Phil stands before us, smiling proudly as the votes are taken, I can’t help but notice that we remain confronted by one glaring, inescapable fact.

He is not wearing any pants.

The motion passes anyway.  Welcome to the other side, buddy.

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