A List Of Things Thrown Five Minutes Ago

WHEN WILL PEOPLE FINALLY COME TO GRIPS WITH THE FACT THAT JUST BECAUSE HUEY LEWIS SAID IT DOESN'T MEAN IT'S TRUE?: I've lived through, and in many cases, opposed, the advent of terrycloth casualwear, parachute pants, man-perms, shower caps over Jheri Curl, Uggs (with miniskirts in LA in August, no less), trucker caps, stripper platforms, and tramp stamps. Today's irritating sartorial tomfoolery, though, is the use, in DC, of the lanyard badge as fashion statement and status symbol. I realize that people in DC yearn to fill that hole in their tribal behavior that elsewhere is populated by actual, honest-to-God fashion -- as I've said before, this is the only place in America where you can't tell a Democrat from a Republican by the precision and placement of the part in his hair -- and that the lanyard is a like a cry in the wilderness, announcing, "these are the secure doors behind which my dreams are writ in the passive voice," similar to the cry you'd hear elsewhere from a pierced eyebrow, male eyeliner, or a logo splashed across one's buttocks. But: people, please. Nobody outside of the security checkpoint wants to sniff your tags to find out who you are, which agency or contractor or lobbyist employs you, or how photogenic you aren't. There is no need, or excuse, for the conspicuous display of a lanyard badge on the Metro, in Quiznos, or in line to board a plane at Dulles. Is it possible that an entire metropolitan area might wake up one morning and decide that it would be best if everybody sported a "HI, MY NAME IS: ___" tag and wore his or her housekeys as jewelry? It's things like this that just confirm that, no matter how densely we populate a certain region of California with men who wear short-sleeved dress shirts and knit ties and cut their own hair and shower only on even-numbered days, DC is still the dorkiest place in America, and not in a hip-to-be kind of way. So, DC, if you're listening, untangle yourself from that fashion noose, tuck it into the front pocket of your Dockers, and join the rest of the world, where your status depends not upon the initials on your swipe card but rather upon normal things like how low your REI number is or the cost of the sweatpants into which you tuck your guns.