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A Night When The People Holding Open the Doors Were Happier Than The Ones Walking Through Them

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Since I already sent my serious post, I just wanted to chime in with
an anecdote. I was in Washington D.C. last night, staying two blocks
from the White House. At 11:30 pm, a half hour after the results were
announced, I happened to walk past a very stuffy private club, one
that, as far as I can tell, is populated exclusively by hardcore
Republican men in their later years. It's the kind of place where you
can imagine lobbyists slipping bribes to judges, and Central American
coups being plotted... or maybe it's just me. Anyway, as I passed by,
two men in black uniforms were high-fiving each other and hooting
with delight. From what I could tell, one man was the doorman at the
club, the other the chauffeur for one of the club members. Both were
African American.

Just then, the club door opened and a bloated, red-faced stereotype
of a man walked out. He was utterly miserable; he defined the word
"scowl." The two uniformed men immediately returned to their duties:
one held open the club door, the other held open the car door. But as
they stood at attention, I'm pretty sure I noticed them share a
furtive smile.

That, for me, was D.C. last night. Of course the dynamics of wealth
and privilege that define the city are still intact. But for one
night the people holding open the doors were a hell of a lot happier
than the ones walking through them.