The Dog Days of An Administration

Oh, it's so interesting to witness the last days of an administration, the hours before a new president takes up residence at 1600 Pennsylvania, and the guy on the way out mustn't forget to pack his toothbrush.

Signs of the clock ticking down are all around town. Maybe it's just me, but the White House landscaping looks a little shabbier these days. On the Metro in the morning, you see GOP career appointees traveling to work with a mixture of resignation (literally) and sadness, feeling as though they have not been invited to the social event of the season that everyone's talking about. "Something will turn up, I just have to wait a bit," is how they greet one another.

Washington has become a city-wide revolving door, with every car with a Texas license plate heading out west, past the Beltway, back into the hinterland. The Washington Post relegates reporting on the President's activities to the nosebleed section of the paper. It seems like recent coverage of the death of India, Bush family cat of 18 years, was the only time the President made the front page in the last few months. Suddenly, POTUS 43 is not on the guest list. The cheesy tourist gift shops are crammed with Obama-belia. Bush? Sorry, no Bush here.