4:00 AM: I leap out of bed, because everyone here must be so Type-A.
4:01 AM: I begin my daily 25-mile run, following the logical route past the White House, National Cathedral, Arlington Cemetery, and Smithsonian Museum (the main one, with the spaceships). I stretch as the sun rises over the Big Famous Abraham Lincoln.
8:00 AM: It’s time for work so I leave home, which is inside the Beltway, which I guess makes me a Beltway Insider! It’s hard to imagine since it was just yesterday I was such a sweet little baby.
8:05 AM: On my way to work I pass Trump Tower, which is definitely in Washington DC, because I remember the corrupt hotel guests from Maddow. It must make me sick to my stomach.
9:45 AM: “Talk to me,” I say, as I answer my phone.
11:15 AM: I grab coffee with that nice girl Kelly. We are dear friends because she was nine years behind me in high school and, as I remember, she is Richard’s daughter. We have so much in common, seeing as we both ended up doing politics.
12:30 PM: I grab lunch and cigars with some of those clowns from Congress. It must feel like that Kevin Spacey show, Succession.
1:20 PM: Lunch wraps up and I run into The Really Bad Senator That Looks Like a Turtle. We are friendly even though we disagree, because it’s all political theater with these phonies. I could set that knucklehead straight, but I don’t, because no relatives have thought to suggest it.
2:02 PM: I take a ride on the subway or metro or trolley car or whatever we call it here. The passengers represent all of Washington DC’s professions—Big Shot Lobbyist, Corrupt Republican, Speechwriter Like The Handsome One from the West Wing and Parks and Rec, and Nate Silver.
2:17 PM: “They just don’t have the votes,” I mutter to myself, apropos of nothing.
3:10 PM: I think about the latest shenanigans with The Budget, which I fully understand, based on insider knowledge you can’t get from the Washington Post. I am happy to explain it to folks who live in the real world, which is a great joke and not an annoying way to describe 700,000 US citizens whose votes don’t count.
3:45 PM: I stop at the National Mall for some quick shopping.
4:20 PM: I squeeze in some racquetball with Nancy Pelosi, who looks tremendous and seems like she’ll never slow down. I offer her some strategy advice, including to “start playing hardball” and “tell the special interests to pound sand.” She takes copious notes.
5:15 PM: Time to head home after a long day doing whatever it is I do again. I could tell you but I’d probably have to kill you, right? Haha.
5:19 PM: I pass the Pentagon, and must get a little nervous, you know, ever since 9/11.
6:15 PM: I arrive home. “This stays off the record,” I say to the Roomba, which I agree is a lifesaver.
6:30 PM: I order a ribeye steak and another cigar. My delivery guy is Paul Ryan, who was at least reasonable when he was The Main Republican, unlike these kooks nowadays (and not too hard on the eyes either). I tip him with a $400,000 campaign contribution, because money runs everything here.
8:00 PM: I read the same Axios story about the filibuster over and over again until the sun rises, which is the only thing to do because Washington DC has no parks, restaurants, or normal people.