Matt Yglesias was assaulted by two young ruffians last night:
So . . . I was walking back from the home of Megan McArdle and Peter Suderman and instead of doing the normal thing and taking Q Street west to 5th and then walking south, I wanted to take a shortcut by walking south on North Capitol to then cut southwest on New York. But then lo and behold right by Catania Bakery a couple of dudes ran up from behind, punched me in the head, then kicked me a couple of times before running off. Once, years ago, in Amsterdam a guy threatened me with a knife and took my money. These guys took nothing, and just inflicted a bit of pain. All things considered the threaten/rob model of crime seems a lot more beneficial to both parties than the punch-and-run model. But I guess it takes all kinds.
So Matt spent the evening with the McSuedermans where McMegan served Frito-Chili pie that she whipped up in the food processor (while explaining that her grandmother could not have done this in the forties because people back then didn’t have food processors, Frito’s, chili, or pie) while Peter spent the evning in front of a full-length mirror modeling hipster hats while practicing his look of bemused detachment just in case someone brought up poor children not receiving medical care. Later they sat around drinking craft beers from a microbrewery so small they only make one six pack a year while listening to a CD by a post-punk new-folk neo-noise klezmer band that has already broken up so don’t even think about trying to see them because it’s too late and, besides, Peter pronounced them “like an ennui-drenched Yeasayer if Yeasayer sounded like Dexys Midnight Runners”.
Here on the west coast, my wife and daughter and I went west on Pacific Beach Drive, turned right on Fanuel, and then west again on Garnet where we ended up at a bar where we ate sliders and non-ironic tater tots while watching Professional Bull Riding on the flatscreens where we saw Stormy Wing who is now my favorite bull rider ever because he has an awesome porn name. Then we went home where we were assaulted by two bassets who wanted to go outside to poop.
So, really, just like Matt’s evening but with more poop…