Finally an ad campaign that both the brightest young things and the geezers can get behind: A YouTube viral commercial that evokes global warming and is modeled after the “duck and cover” reels from our parents’ youth. And, oh yeah, it also promotes Ocean City, Md., using its mayor as the straight man.

The commercial, which aired in the D.C. and Baltimore markets in June (notably during the NBA playoffs) has since filled about 66,000 computer screens. It was produced by Alexandria-based MRB Films. Senior Producer there Tracy Sacks says that before filming, OC Mayor Rick Meehan watched an STD-warning spot from the ’40s or ’50s (”Men: Be careful when you go out”…) so that he could strike the right tone. It also aired on radio, where it took on a War of the Worlds feel. Seriously, though. The oceans are still evaporating. Labor Day approaches. Let’s all go and leave this mess.

For this week’s S&T, I spoke to Bill Duggan, owner of Adams Morgan anagram bar Madam’s Organ. Since 2000, Duggan’s been sparring with the Alcoholic Beverage Regulation Administration over the issue of occupancy in his bar: ABRA said he was limited to 99 patrons, the number of seats on his restaurant license’s certificate of occupancy; Duggan contested that he could pack up to 393 patrons in, his fire marshall approved capacity. Earlier this month, the D.C. Court of Appeals ruled in Duggan’s favor.

This isn’t the first time that Duggan has dealt with issues of occupancy. For the past decade, Duggan and Madam’s Organ have organized a beach trip for area kids to Dewey Beach, Delaware. Each year, Duggan takes 20 to 40 District kiddies, along with 10 to 15 adult volunteers, for a weekend of bonfiring, crab-hunting, and beach-housing.

Dewey Beach didn’t always like that. “The second year of the trip, I was arrested for disorderly conduct,” says Duggan. “I made sure to tell the local [authorities] that the kids were coming, and they said it would be fine. They said ‘Hey, this is 1999, not 1969.’”

But Duggan says the beach cops were ready and waiting to kill the party. “Sure enough, there they were, hiding in the bushes, waiting for us,” he says. “They didn’t like having a bunch of black kids on the beach … The beach cop, he was like the leader of the Aryan nation: starched shirt, blonde hair, white eyebrows. He kicked us off the beach.”

That’s where Duggan’s pint-sized occupancy issue comes in: “Technically, the permit said only 25 kids at the bonfire at one time. And we had 35. But they were coming and going! Some were playing on the beach, others were at the house; they weren’t all at the bonfire at one time.”

But unlike the D.C. Court of Appeals, the beach cops didn’t buy Duggan’s maneuvering. “They put me in the paddywaggon,” says Duggan. “I said, ‘Fine, but the kids are coming with me.’”

After a brief lock-up and some negotiation, Duggan was released to continue spearheading the kiddie beach adventure. According to Duggan, the experience didn’t put a damper on the kids’ summer trip. “Oh, they loved it,” he says. “They kept shouting, ‘Mr. Duggan! You got locked up!’”

Photo by Charles Steck

Cherkis was in the Post this morning. That’s because of Reason No. 4,665 that I’m glad I live in Virginia:

Officer Ariel Mannes was investigated in 2003 for retaliating against City Paper reporter Jason Cherkis, according to an arbitration filing. In police trial board proceedings, he admitted using his position as an officer to access Cherkis’s personal records and posting the information on a law enforcement Web site. The board decided unanimously to fire Mannes that year, but the department took more than 55 days to notify him.

Lanier rehired him in November but then suspended him. The department is trying to dismiss him again because he was convicted of a weapons offense in the District during the time he was fired, records show.

Over at DCist, some charmers have taken the opportunity of the mention of Cherkis’ name to zing him: “the douchiest City Paper reporter there” grumbles one; “I wonder if Cherkis is pooping in his nappies at the thought that this cop is back on the street with a badge and a gun again?” offers another wag. I tell you, it’s a regular Festival d’Avignon in there!

For the record, here’s the 2002 story that landed Cherkis on Mannes’ to-do list. Cherkis denies any nappy-pooping, incidentally. “No…I was at the beach,” he says. “So—no pants.” Haters, please enjoy the mental image.

I’m going on a beach getaway this weekend. Not to the Bahamas or Mexico or anywhere warm. Oh no. This trip tops all those. We’re going to off-season Rehoboth. I haven’t checked the weather, but I’m pretty sure mother nature will offer some of the following: sleet, hail, snow, or maybe just sideways rain blowing little grains of sand into our faces. It will be a lovely, much-needed chance to stay inside for two straight days. And, beat my boyfriend at Scrabble. My brainy mom, who hates to see me win, told me to bring a spatial game as well, since the boyfriend is a scientist and not a writer. (Kisses, Mom. I know it just makes me stronger.)

Of course he owns said spatial game. It’s called Mastermind. It’s sort of like Battle Ship, but harder, with little colored pegs in an invisible order. In a practice round, I clung briefly to a hopefully thin disadvantage, then went down, down, down in defeat. I have not been practicing online at work.

Anyway, since Scrabble is more a test of mathy skills (shuffling anagrams) than a composition assignment, and since I am an evil genius at Scrabble, there may be hope for me yet. Then again, I may have just talked myself up a bit too much.

Despite living in D.C. for quite a number of years, I’d never been to the Delaware beaches. Horror stories of traffic and vague childhood memories of Jersey beaches had always extinguished any desires for sand and waves. But yesterday, desperation for a vacation won, and I headed to Dewey Beach with a couple of friends. There was no traffic, the weather was gorgeous, the waves were big enough to send you scraping along the ocean floor, and I had the Atlantic Monthly fiction issue—nothing to complain about there.

But just as we were cracking open our beers (to be considerate, we even brought cans instead of bottles) and digging out our Frisbee, we watched a devastating scene unfold. Not far away from us, two guys had the same idea; they were throwing a Frisbee while drinking some beers. The lifeguard jumped down from his stand, sprinted across the beach, and made the guy pour out his beer in a trash can. He then returned to his stand, blew his whistle at these same guys, and through crazy arm gestures, indicated that throwing a Frisbee is forbidden. Why he didn’t mention this while he was beside the guys, I don’t know. I wasn’t too surprised about the alcohol, because, well, this is America. But you can’t play with a Frisbee on the BEACH? That is just absurd. In fact, along with many other rules, adults (who have better aim than kids) aren’t allowed to play with most airborne objects during the prime beach hours.

It was still a great day, and I managed to sneak several beers despite the lifeguard spending as much time facing the beach as he did the ocean. And to our great satisfaction, two of our friends managed to toss around a tennis ball in the ocean without getting the whistle. Apparently it’s much safer to play with airborne objects in the ocean than on the sand.