Even with 24-hour cable and infinite Intertubes, one can't follow every news story.
Thus, it was only this morning that I learned of the biggest real estate development story in the city of my birth. Now I'm wishing I hadn't.
The Old Post Office, located on Pennsylvania Avenue midway between the White House and the Capitol, is truly a national treasure. Completed in 1899, it is the premier public example of Richardsonian architecture and remains one of the few large original structures on the lower Avenue.
Its bells once tolled the opening session of each Congress, calling our representatives to put down their cocktails in the Willard bar and get to work.
This year, despite its standing as part of the National Parks, system, the government declared this beautiful, historic structure "surplus" and opened bids for private partners to take over the complex.
You will never guess who won.
Yes, this unique treasure of architecture and history will now be owned by none other than Donald Trump, he of the birth certificate obsession and unidentified roadkill topper.
Mr. Trump plans to turn the OPO into a signature luxury hotel, promising all the luxury and class his operations have come to embody.
I understand that government cannot do everything, that sometimes private and corporate partnerships can help prolong the lives and uses of revered structures. Hell, I can drive down the street and see the big old Mercedes logo on the Superdome, like the home of the Saints is some pathetic rapper with outdated bling.
But, really? Trump? The Old Post Office? Really?
Is this commodification of grand public buildings and attractions really destined to continue until the last piece of our national heritage is nothing more than a billboard for the latest corporate self-fluffer? Should we be bracing ourselves for the Goldline Gate Bridge? The Denny's Grand Slam Canyon?
The Googleheim?
"Googleheim" by Louie Ludwig