Ach. No, my head doesn’t hurt. But someone for the love of Durga tell me why I have to have my Woman’s Friend (the bitch) on election night. Yes, I’m so blue I bleed for democracy.

So what did I learn, on my first night of officially being part of the Beltway Cocktail Party circuit? Money. It’s all about money. And free food. People here seem to equate power with how much food and drink, and how fancy, an organization can provide. Good liberal groups I like: good but not fancy fare. Slick insider/media organizations I hate: chi-chi all the way. Gay people: fabulous, as always. But again with the money. You could hear what wasn’t spoken out of a sense of being polite, as if it were shouted. Everyone was thinking about the new alignments of money; who’s asking for it, who’s giving it away, and who gets to spend it.

Most Dems were cautious, if not downright in shock, as the results came in. People here really do get the eVoting mess, and for the most part, they’re waiting for Amurkins to grab the pitchforks and torches. As one official said in OH, it’s basically the case that those elected believe the system “works” because, well, it elected them, right? So don’t expect much change from our new masters, regardless of their party. Even the pending messes in races still being “counted” aren’t going to change things. Sorry, kids. It’s up to you and you alone.

Also: everyone reads blogs. And writes them. I was shocked by the number of people who brought up blogs before I did. And few people recoiled when I said I was a blogger. I was made to feel more or less part of the community, it’s all about name dropping, and as a blogger, that’s easy to do. Once again I feel compelled to point out that bloggers and blog readers are more informed, more in touch, and basically more clued in than the average CNN watcher. Oh, and Fuck CNN. They had a rather lame attempt to suck bloggers and new media types into the mystique of Beltway cocktailing, in my neighborhood. I felt dirty, knowing they were having their little private, guarded shindig in two blocks from my house. Hint, media people: your choice of venue was the height of lame. That’s the bar the klub kiddies go to for warmup hour, it’s pitiful to see a bunch of midlife crisis types attempting to look like fashionista 20somethings.

Anyway, this truly is a Company town. The discourse is so internal, so self referential, and not shockingly, so full of concern for well, not flyover land. Our friends in the fight: labor, new media, (and I can’t believe I’m saying this) the Academe. Our enemies: old media, lobbyists, and as always, the corporate Borg. I had to laugh at the few Republicans willing to stay out past 10, ha ha, there were some tear-filled beer glasses, let me tell you. The term “slink away in fear and shame” was really out in force last night. But I got the sense that the plotting for evil continues, and being whipped like rabid dogs only turns them on, the fuckers.

Kudos to the good folks who hosted with wi-fi and computer tables. Fuck off to those who didn’t. Thank you, New America Foundation, for employing really cool people. Thank you AFL-CIO for employing some truly smart, hot women. And to the guard who thought that I couldn’t possibly know the host of the party down the street: eat my dingleberries. I live here, and you can take your sorry ass back to Virginia, and suck Allen’s macaca. Uncle Toms like you deserve no less.