The Kojo Nnamdi Show on WAMU 88.5 FM talks to our leader today. The segment with Wemple starts at 12:30, but why wait? Tune in at the top of the hour for a discussion about the future of UDC. It’s D.C. hell-in-a-handbasket Monday! Let’s all tune in!

Last night while the rest of you were foaming about the governor’s mispronunciation of “nuclear,” I was on Duke Ellington Bridge walking home. And for the third time in a year, I watched an owl fly over the bridge. The owl, a barred owl as it turns out (pictured above) is one of three species that inhabit Rock Creek Park (the great horned and the screech owl are the other two). By far, the barred owl is the cutest of our city’s owl critters. It does not have pointy bat-like ears and has soft brown eyes, rather than the piercing pee-yellow ones of other owl varieties.

When I saw my brown-eyed owl friend land in a tree just on the other side of Walter Pierce Park, I stopped rushing home to turn on The Sexist’s live blog (sorry, Sexist) and instead watched the owl. The owl twisted its small head around to look, I presume, for dinner: mice or chipmunks or, apparently, tasty grouse and doves. It sat there on a limb for a good two minutes (long enough for either veep candidate to say “Main Street” and “kitchen table” approximately 82 times) and then it flew off toward the zoo grounds with an audible flap of its wings.

Look, I know I’m supposed to be writing in this space about Sarah Palin, Sarah Palin, Sarah Palin. But you know what, Jason Cherkis, I really don’t care. I am so sick to death of you and your ilk imploding all over yourself because you hate Sarah Palin. The way you all twitch with fear and loathing is exactly the way conservatives twitched with fear and loathing regarding Hillary Clinton, circa 1992-2008. She’s just a politician, people.

Personally, I prefer owls.

Go ahead and suggest to Arianne Bennett that restaurants are to blame for the rat problem in Adams Morgan (check the link for Part I of our story, about a resident who blames the rats). Bennett, who owns the Amsterdam Falafelshop with her husband, Scott, has heard it before.

Bennett considers herself a civilian expert on the subject and, in fact, has been known to sign off on the Adams Morgan Listserv as “Constant Fighter of Rats in the Alley.”

There’s plenty of evidence to suggest Bennett does know from rats. First, there’s the “rat exclusionary work” she has personally overseen at her restaurant on 18th Street. Over here, the glue traps. There, the tracking powder. Rat fences line the patio, which is religiously hosed off with bleach or a similar cleaner; posted signs warn the falafel-eating masses to never feed pigeons (the rats with wings). Small holes, wherever they appear, are stuffed with steel wool; she finds some of them by crawling around in dark corners with a flashlight. Every crevice or potential crack in a basement wall she shares with an attached and abandoned building is pocked with spongey, yellow, non-rat-friendly Big Gap Filler. She uses the stuff on the outside cracks of her building and the one next door, as well. She has a professional “rat guy” who checks the place regularly; she knows how to direct-dial the District to get someone out pronto. She never leaves out open trash and patrols the alley to make sure her neighbors and fellow business-owners are similarly vigilant.

“I will stomp on a rat before I will allow it to come into my restaurant,” she says. And she has. It’s not pretty, she says.

If Bennett comes off as a touch more concerned about rats than your average restaurant owner, there’s a good reason. She and Scott and their two Italian mastiffs live upstairs; so if there’s a rat in the restaurant, there’s a rat in the house. They also park their vehicle in the alley by the Dumpsters and have, as has the star or Rat Tale Part I, dealt with rats chewing through their car parts. Bennett’s solution? Bleach. She hoses off the cement under her car every day. “It’s the food smell,” she says. “You have to get rid of that if you don’t want them under there.”

The Dumpsters, themselves, are unfixable, she says. There’s a gap built into their design that prevents the lids from slamming on people’s fingers. It’s a like putting out a welcome mat for rats to get in, she says. “Unless someone designs a better Dumpster that I can afford,” she says, she’ll have to live with it.

And don’t bother to publicly complain on Listservs and the like that the city needs to do more, as several people have done of late. “The old-timers are not surprised anymore,” she says.

“Unless you’re seeing a team of rats carrying a person down the street, you’re not going to get the attention of the District government,” she says. “It’s like trying to hold back a tide right at your front door.”

Last week, Todd Metrokin, whose brutal beating on Kalorama Road we wrote about, told City Desk police were close to making an arrest in his case. Today, via the Washington Blade, we learned one unnamed juvenile has been charged.

We also reported Metrokin has been involved in the re-forming of the advocacy group Gays and Lesbians Opposed to Violence. Chris Farris, who originally blogged about the attack on Metrokin and two of his friends on thenewgay.net and is one of the organizers of GLOV, tells the Blade:

GLOV plans to follow the prosecution of the juvenile suspect arrested in the case and will look into the city’s juvenile laws, which prohibit the release of any information about criminal prosecution of juveniles. Under existing law, authorities cannot disclose whether a juvenile arrested in a crime is convicted of the crime and, if convicted, what sentence he or she receives from a juvenile court judge.

I have a message out to Metrokin and will update with his response.

Like all of those scantily-clad, cocktail-loving kids from the suburbs, rats enjoy fun times in Adams Morgan. Talk of their antics burbles up every few months or so on the neighborhood listserv, as it did recently, when Sid Binks chimed in with a post titled, “RATS Everywhere.”

Binks, 44, has lived in Adams Morgan almost half his life. To the residents (many of them newbies) who think the rat problem has gotten worse, Binks says, maybe, but it’s relative. D.C. did have a mild winter and maybe some rat families that would have died off, didn’t. But rats have been part of the fabric of Adams Morgan for as long as he can remember.

There was the time about two years ago when his nearly new car, parked on a concrete slab behind his house on Calvert Street, wouldn’t start. He took it back to Chevy Chase Acura and was told he had a problem: Rats had eaten through the insulation surrounding his ignition wires and the wires shorted out. The mechanic had seen this sort of thing before and offered a solution. “They wrapped the part of the car where rats can get at it with steel wool.” He hasn’t had a problem since. (Current service manager at the dealership, Mike Wang, says he was not aware of this practice but was glad to know Binks is still able to start his car.)

“I’ve exposed rats’ nests. I’ve killed babies,” says Binks. “I’ve stuck a hose down a hole—and the holes are fairly extensive—and turned it on. If they pop out, I bash them with a shovel.”

He’s installed and replaced a “rat fence” around his wooden fence. It’s like chicken wire, he says, “but the holes are a lot smaller….Over the years, gaps do appear and they find their way in. Once you get one, well…”

On and off for 10 years, he’s fought rat infestaions on his patio. He’s never found them in the house, but has a friend who discovered one in the toilet. “He took a plunger and drowned it.”

Every morning, he hoses rat crap from the alley, where he and his neighbors are careful about their trash. He uses poison sparingly because of the neighborhood dogs. He does put out rat traps. “One time one of those closed on my thumb and broke a blood vessel. You should have seen it,” he says.

“I’ve been at this a long time,” says Binks, and it’s given him some perspective. “I don’t like the whole thing, but I guess what you can say is that I’ve accepted it. It’s part of city living.”

(photograph by yours truly, taken many months ago outside Binks’ house on my way to work)

This morning in the park surrounding the Dupont Circle fountain flocks of pigeons and other winged creatures seemed to be very interested in a pile of fleshy-looking stuff in the grass. This appeared to be gross. From my spot on a bench, I couldn’t figure out what it was the birds were munching on. This appeared to need a closer inspection.

There in the grass: a ginormous pile of authentic (to my eye) glazed Krispy Kremes, some of them sprinkled and frosted, their frosted parts sticking together in a congealed mass.

Birds everywhere where flying to and from with hunks of glazed doughnuts in their beaks. Squirrels scampered off with sticky bits of dough in their jaws. How could this happen? Is Krispy Kreme dumping their unwanted goods in the middle of Dupont Circle?

“We dump them in the trash right outside our door,” says Mercedes, a manager at the Krispy Kreme just off the circle at 1350 Connecticut Ave. NW. “People come after we’re closed and take them sometimes.” The store/bakery is not allowed to donate their extras, she says, so they dump what they can’t sell. Whatever happens from there is not their responsibility. So, take note: If you want some old Krispy Kremes before the pigeons get to them, hang out at the trash around 11 p.m. Consider this yet one more service provided to you by City Desk.

(photo by pohacco20)

About 50 people showed up last night to a meeting led by Todd Metrokin, the out-front gay-bashing victim we wrote about two weeks ago, and Chris Farris, an artist and friend of Todd’s who blogs at thenewgay.net.

The meeting effectively re-formed GLOV (Gays and Lesbians Opposed to Violence), a group active in the ’90s (even before e-mails and cell phones!) in establishing victim advocacy, a hotline to report gay-bashing, sensitivity training for cops, and reports of GLBT-related hate crimes. The reconvening is prompted by recent incidents, including the attack in Adams Morgan on Metrokin and two of his friends and the death of Tony Hunter, who was beaten earlier this month outside of BeBar in Shaw.

The city’s sitting up for this, at least right now. Among attendees at last night’s meeting were Councilmembers David Catania, Phil Mendelson, and Jack Evans; Chris Dyer, director of the mayor’s office on GLBT affairs; Lt. Brett Parson, head of the police department’s special liaison units; and several detectives from the 3rd District, which includes Adams Morgan and U Street.

Metrokin’s still struggling with being thrust into a gay-rights leadership role by virtue of being attacked and talking about it. But, he says, he’s inspired by strangers who’ve thanked him and told him their stories. Also, “everyone I’ve come into contact with in the criminal justice system has been much more responsive.” Metrokin was publicly critical of slow progress in his case, which involves a key piece of evidence: a cell phone belonging to one of his attackers; Metrokin found it in his pocket after being discharged from the hospital.

There’s now one suspect in his case; the police report says at least five were involved. Metrokin has met with an assistant district attorney to talk about charges and prosecution.

“People are talking to me more and more about their experiences in D.C., and there are too many to count at this point. Some people are living with this in their neighborhoods on a day-to-day basis. It’s disheartening,” Metrokin says. The feeling at the meeting, he says, was not that gay-bashing is necessarily on the rise, since statistics are unreliable, “but that crimes are becoming more violent.”

(City Paper photograph by Darrow Montgomery)

The anchor of Eden Center closed its doors today. Huong Que/Four Sisters, which opened in Eden Center in 1991–and expanded in 1997—sent out an e-mail alert this afternoon announcing its closure. The alert did not say when CP’s pick for Best Vietnamese will reopen at its long-awaited new location, the corner of Lee Highway and Gallows Road in Falls Church. That move, according to a cover story (”Out of Eden,” 8/25/06) by our food critic Tim Carman, was supposed to have happened at the end of 2007. I checked in this past June and was told it would happen at the end of July.

Taking over the space is Song Que Deli & Bakery, which, like Four Sisters, is owned by Kim Lai and Thanh Tran (parents of the aforementioned sisters). It’s an interesting risk: Kim and Thanh are betting that their customers will follow them out of Eden and that their expanded bakery will continue the transformation of their little corner in little Ho Chi Minh City from the “bad-luck place” to a success that has outgrown thousands of parking spaces. If the deli’s sandwiches are as good as the restaurant’s pho and the salt-and-pepper squid, I’d say they’ll still be counting their money a year from now—when Four Sisters finally reopens.

The crusty case of beards and D.C. Fire & EMS—religious expression or safety hazard?—is indeed moving forward and will be argued before a panel of three judges in the U.S. Court of Appeals next month, on Oct. 7, according to Art Spitzer, legal director for the local ACLU. Six active-duty firefighters and paramedics, including Steven Chasin who recently talked to J-post and was featured on Drudge, have joined an earlier suit filed in 2001. That suit included Tarick Ali, a Muslim firefighter, who died of cancer in 2006. His estate is still represented in the suit, says Spitzer.

D.C. Fire Spokesman Alan Etter says whatever finally happens: “We will abide by what the court says, but we maintain, adamantly, that this is a safety issue.” Facial hair longer than one-quarter inch prevents what the fire department considers an adequate seal on masks designed to keep oxygen in and toxic gas out. The argument that there’s no evidence a firefighter has been killed because of his beard isn’t good enough, Etter says. “I don’t think we want to wait and be the first at a funeral and say, well, we’re sorry, we had a chance to address this and we didn’t.”

Etter also says the reason this is an issue that keeps flaring up in D.C. is because it’s an “argument of lexicon, of nomenclature.” In other words: D.C.’s not what you would call a state. The National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH) established standards that, he says, all states have adopted. These include the beard thing. In D.C., he says, “there’s a loophole.” In Pennsylvania, for instance, there’s not. A Muslim firefighter in Philadelphia argued to keep his beard; he was allowed to keep his job, as long as it didn’t involve actually fighting fires. So, in other words, he lost.

Spitzer says, “We don’t buy it.” Tests have shown that “the little bit of leakage” that occurs because someone has a beard “is not different than leakage that would occur for other reasons,” he says. And further, if the department is worried about how quickly and efficiently firefighters use oxygen, consider “the 275-pound” firefighter, says Spitzer. “Instead, the fire department chooses to focus on beards.”

(photo by Poolie)

This photo posted today by the Chicago Tribune’s national legal correspondent James Oliphant—who had to come pick up his 3-year-old becuase of a bomb scare that turned out to be a fake homeless polar bear—looked oddly familiar. It’s all confirmed, of course. Sculptor Mark Jenkins, whose realistic tape sculptures we wrote about last October, has moved on from random women who appear to be sitting on buildings to Greenpeace. Four Jenkins-created homeless polar bears have been installed in D.C. causing the requisite stirs. We know about the one in Columbia Heights. Where are the other three?

While you’re thinking it over, check the reaction to Jenkins’ earlier piece, from the CP video archives:

Antonio Valiente of Bethesda, who says he has long enjoyed the dishes tagged as Weight-Watchers-friendly at Applebee’s, is now suing both the weight-loss program and the restaurant chain on behalf of all calorie-counting customers who, he claims, have been grossly misled. The suit alleges that certain dishes contain about three times as much fat per serving as advertised. For example, that Cajun Lime Tilapia? A lab found it contained about 14.3 grams of fat, rather than the 6 claimed on the menu. The calorie count is up about 25 percent, too.

Valiente, who is not publicly listed, says in a statement through his D.C.-based lawyers (via the Kansas City Star): “If I had known the truth, I never would have eaten at Applebee’s.”

The giant vats of beer served in glass are, apparently, as advertised. Calls out to the lawyers. Will update with more shocking revelations.

Banita Jacks pleaded not guilty this morning to killing her four daughters. Her attorneys have 15 days to enter an insanity defense The indictment handed down Wednesday, via WaPo, includes new and disturbing info about how the girls, believed dead for about six months, initially died:

The youngest, Aja Fogle, 5, had been strangled and beaten, the indictment says. Her sisters, N’Kiah Fogle, 6, and Tatiana Jacks, 11, had been strangled. As previously thought, Brittany Jacks, 16, had been stabbed, the document says.

Is it just me or could the governor from Alaska be straight out of Buffalo? I was dropping off last night and imagining that among her talk of impending victory in Iraq (Eye-Raaayk), Sarah Palin was talking about going to the Tops or maybe to the Wegmans to pick up some pop and a jar of that Weber’s hot mustard and then stopping over to get some rolls at the Schwebel’s to go with the fine Redlinski polish sausage (grandma’s recipe) in the freezer. But then, geez, she’d have to get on the Scajaquada Espressway and it’s always backed up this time’a day. Guess I’m not the only one who noticed:

I’m neither young enough nor blond enough. If you are, private dancer, your life is calling from the Cleveland Park Listserv:

I am planning my 5-year old’s birthday party and thinking of trying to have a Hannah Montana impersonator. I don’t want to pay for a fortune for a professional. Are there any local teens or college students who either happen to look like HM or have a wig etc and are willing to lip synch and dance to entertain a handful of star-struck 5-year olds?

Katherine R.
Idaho Ave.

Yesterday, the WaTi reported, was not a day for political speeches, which is too bad, really, for McCain’s faithful, who got Laura and Cindy instead of George and Dick because of a little ol’ Category 2.

Oh, but there was news. Sarah Palin’s daughter, Bristol, is not yet able to vote but is preggers and gettin’ hitched. Must be all that beefy funding for abstinence programs didn’t get up there to the 49th state. Don’t worry. The 2008 GOP presidential platform calls for throwing even more money at them, according to the L.A. Times’ blog.

What could be more shocking than Palin’s imperfect family? A. Line. At. Wonderland. W. T. F.? The Heights Life is aghast. First Target and now this. Hopefully the guy known only as “the hot bartender” there will pick up and move on to some less-discovered home for the Chucks-wearing masses.

In Shaw outs “Derrick,” the guy hitting up for beers our poor Post essayist, a lifelong New Yorker who finds D.C.’s rental market daunting. I.S. thinks Derrick is really the Derrick from Truxton Circle (Duh!) who is always hitting people up for beer. Or maybe not. Turns out this trick is not all that original—unlike lifelong New Yorkers who find the D.C. rental market daunting.

Over at DC Foodies it’s Komi, Komi, Komi. Everyone’s who’s anyone is talking about how much better it is now than when it opened 10 four years ago. Still, it’s at No. 3 in the predictable rankings: Washingtonian doesn’t think it’s good enough to knock Citronelle and CityZen off their perches. Yet.

So where was Mr. T in DC when Jason from DC Foodies was at Komi, Komi, Komi? He was where everyone else is: Nando’s Peri Peri. That’s his pic of the butternut squash and couscous salad above. Even at 8 a.m., that looks like a taste treat.