This Politician is Funny. So of Course He is Not Important.

Hello. Have you ever wondered what it's like living and working as a politician in Washington, D.C., the World Capital Of Political Power – but having no power, no influence, no prestige, and no salary?  Is it frustrating, or in this particular arena of pomposity, hypocrisy and egomania, is it just possibly ... liberating?

We are talking today with Brett Astmann, the elected ANC councilman for the Single Member District neighborhood # 7-D07 in the District of Columbia.  It is my neighborhood.  In acreage, it is approximately 3.7 football fields, laid side to side, including the end zones.   But in population, it is 2,000 times the size of Monowi, Nebraska, which has one resident, Elsie Eiler. Ms. Eiler, 88, is the town's mayor, bartender and librarian; she elects herself every year. The town has three buildings that aren't abandoned, comprising Elsie's home, the town library, and the local tavern.  

At least Elsie runs her town.   Brett Astmann doesn't even run neighborhood 7-D, inasmuch as ANC stands for Advisory Neighborhood Commission.   His job is advisory.  Basically, his job is to talk to his neighbors, hear their concerns,  decide which have merit, and then to beg the Washington City Council to listen to him. 

I first met Mr. Astmann in 2022, outside the polling place where he was  running for his first term.  Rachel and I had just voted, but I had not voted at all in Mr. Astmann's race, because I thought the position was too trivial.  Rachel, though, had voted for him because there was something she liked about his name.  As you will see, Rachel's vote might well have put him over the top, as Elsie Eiler’s did for her.   

Brett Astmann bravely agreed to submit to this interview.  By prior agreement, no subject was off the table.  

Me: Is “Astmann” Middle-German for “Assman”?

Brett: Not that I know of.  We can’t rule it out. 

Me: What is the single most fascinating thing that has happened to you since your election?

Brett: I spent a breathtaking couple of months getting zoning approvals to build a home around a sewer easement.  I should mention at this juncture that it's not too late to admit that you regret the whole idea of this article.   Was no one available to interview from the DC Department of Motor Vehicles?

Me: You do yourself a disservice.  The DMV people are mere bureaucrats.  You are a bona fide statesman, having been duly elected and thus-such.

Brett: Okay.

Me:  Speaking of being elected, by what vote did you win?  I literally could not find a mention of this in the local media.

Brett:  You’ll like this. I technically won by one vote. With nobody on the ballot I entered the race late as a write-in candidate against another write-in candidate running a really great race. Fear of mockery drove me to put an idiotic number of hours and dollars into the race. Yard signs, door hangers, mailers, evenings knocking on doors pretending to know things about being an ANC commissioner, community events…lurking around polling stations on election day. When results were posted it read “1+”. 

It turns out my opponent's paperwork had a technical issue: His votes were ineligible. I only needed one vote. 

Me: Rachel’s vote!  

Brett: Quite possibly!    

Me: Do you think your election got no publicity because the story behind the results was kind of feeble and embarrassing? 

Brett: Maybe, but luckily, I’m only admitting it here in The Gene Pool, so widespread publicity is still unlikely. 

Me: Touche.    

Brett:  But seriously, I think it’s because of my aggressive “catch and kill” campaign. 

Me: Okay, what is the funniest thing that has happened to you on the job? 

Brett:  The DC Government has a tool called “TICPIX.” It is one of the shortcuts that helps residents contest a ticket. Whenever it's mentioned in public, all of the Commissioners turn into 13- year-olds. How do you think that conversation went when that name was greenlit?    

Me:  I see your point.  You have to be careful about how you aspirate the consonants, and such.  

Brett: Precisely. 

Me: Is it thrilling to be in The Room Where It Happens, The Room Where It Happens?  

Brett: I’ll let you know when it Happens. 

Me: I have just discovered that you are actually the treasurer of the Ward 7 ANC office.  I am thinking no one wanted the job, and you stepped up and took one for the team even though you probably know nothing about treasurering.   Without looking it up -- you are on your honor here --- can you tell me what a debenture is? 

Brett:  I’ve already peter-principled myself with just debits and credits, so I’ve no idea about the debenture.  You are correct, I know nothing about treasuring and I have the job because A) nobody else volunteered and B) I have a deep fear of uncomfortable silences. After a call for nominations, and 45 empty seconds, I caved.   

Me: What do you think of the Biden administration’s policies in Gaza vis a vis a long-term peace process for the Mideast? 

Brett:

Me:  Just kidding. How do we get rid of these speed bumps that hit you by surprise and smash your head against the roof of your car, doing who-knows-what damage to your cervical vertebra?  

Brett:  We prefer to call them “vertical traffic calming features”. These speed bumps are out there every day working hard to wake up the legions of stoned drivers speeding through our neighborhood. They are actually very popular with DDOT and residents. And controversial. I know of one that has been installed, removed, and is being reinstalled. Half the neighbors on that street want it, half don’t. Welcome to the world of ANCs.

Me: So the bumps occur and are dismantled based on occasional street-only plebiscites???   Is this like ancient Greek direct democracy, street by street?  

Brett:  It really is – street-by-street 311-call warfare – but it is a war of attrition.  Those with the most time, energy and knowledge of the system often get rewarded.  

Me:  What can we do about the city posting "Do not park" signs all over the neighborhood that last for two weeks or a month, forcing us park far away from our homes, and our wimminfolk to walk home alone late at night so the city can do street work BUT THEY NEVER DO THE STREETWORK.   Whom can we incarcerate over this? 

Brett: Just embrace the unwritten social contract: The City puts up ridiculous signs with unreasonable effective dates.  We only sort of follow them, and the City rarely if ever gives us tickets. Have you ever actually gotten a parking ticket in our neighborhood?

Me: No, now that you mention it. 

Brett:  I have a standing bet with some residents that I will buy you a drink if you see a booted or towed car in our ANC. The offer is yet to be redeemed. 

Me: What is your most awesome power?  

Brett: The power to park anywhere in the city while on official business.  

Me: You are a Prince of the City!

Brett: Now you know why I do this.

Me: Have you found that ANC-ing has improved your sex life? 

Brett:  One hundred percent.  Sending my wife “TICPiX” photos during the day definitely spices up things in the bedroom. 

Me:  Why are there shopping carts everywhere except at the grocery stores? 

Brett: Believe it or not, this was the first conversation you and I had. At the time …

Me: Wait.  You’re wrong.  The first question I asked you was out there in the street, outside the polling place.  I asked you if you planned to supplement your non-income by taking bribes.  

Brett:  Oh, right.  

Me: You said you’d be too unimportant to bribe.  

Brett:  It was the truth.  Like The Father of Our Country, I cannot tell a lie. 

Me: You were saying, about shopping carts? 

Brett:  When we last talked about this, I said I believed they were being “borrowed” by local residents too close to drive but with too many groceries to carry. I was young and naive. My kids think they are disappearing into the Stranger Things “upside down”.  The situation with stolen carts seems to have improved, but at a cost.  There are now carts that weirdly freeze and lock suddenly as you approach the door, jamming the handlebar into your belly.  You get the Government you deserve. Are these really the grocery stores we deserve?? 

Me:    I am afraid the answer is yes.  We suck, as a people. 

Brett:  See?

Me: General Tso's chicken from Hong Kong Carryout, Mandarin Carryout or Wings & More Wings? There is a correct answer.  Don't be a political wuss.  Don’t equivocate.   

Brett: There is only one answer. Hands down General Tso’s chicken from Hong Kong Carry out. It’s cash only and who carries cash anymore? I end up paying the usurious $6 ATM fee at the machine installed right outside the store - like a chump. It’s also the only place I've been mugged. Still. Worth it.  

Gene:  You are correct.  A resident named Sherman Bodner used to follow us every time we took our dog out for a walk. He would follow us for the duration of the walk, silently. He would also loiter on our front porch. Sometimes he would defecate in our front yard and bury it. We miss him a lot. He was a stray alley cat.  We have his ashes, which one day we are going to bury in our front yard under a headstone that will call him The Mayor Of Kingman Park, our micro-neighborhood.  Does this violate Zoning rules, and if so, fine, get us arrested. See if we care. I won’t give a crap.

Brett: Burial plots are probably illegal but as you know most people in this neighborhood don't care what you do and the City has bigger fish. A cat headstone in your front yard is the most Kingman Park thing ever. Why was his name Sherman Bodner?

Me: It’s a long story.  Sherman was my best friend in college, and he was also a bit of an asshole.  

Brett: Ah. 

Me: Thank you for being such a good sport about this.  In return, I am going to give you an opportunity to say something dippy and earnest and politically advantageous about why you love to be a public servant, and help people or whatnot.  

Take it away.

Brett: Thank you. I’m grateful for my genuinely engaged residents, my wonderful fellow ANC Commissioners, and the hardworking people across all levels of DC Government who …

Me:Thanks, sorry.  We will have to end it there. We are out of space. But I am going to vote for you forever, until you are President of the United States.

Brett: Thank you.

Today’s Gene Pool Gene Pool Gene Poll:

Okay, we are now going to now going to the Real Time portion of the Gene Pool where we you get to respond to real time questions and observations, many of which involve my my involve great jokes and my questions from this week involve queries about woo-woo you have experienced, you crazy nutcakes.

Q: Here’s a perfect joke: Two Irishmen walk out of a pub.

A:  Yes. Because I had to think about it for a few seconds.  Very good. 

Q: What did you mean by your answer?  Isn’t it straightforward, that they’d never choose to leave a pub?

A;   It’s that they would walk. 

Walk is a very funny word, by the way. 

You need to deal with me to understand humor.

Q; My story's not as astounding (or something) as the others you'll probably get, but I find it pretty compelling. I was having a nap in the late afternoon, on the couch in my parents' living room, and I had a very detailed dream about a group of people who were traveling in a spaceship. There were two scientists, a female doctor, and a few others. Nothing dramatic happened in the dream, it was just a brief look at what their mission was like, but it was unusual for me to have a dream that was so detailed. My mom woke me up for dinner and I remarked about it as I sat down at the table. Mid-story, I noticed an odd expression on my dad's face. He had come into the living room after I fell asleep and had been reading the latest issue of his favorite science fiction magazine, and he told me that my dream bore an uncanny resemblance to the story he'd been reading. So we suspended any further discussion, and after dinner I sat down and wrote down everything I could remember about the dream in as much detail as I could recall. THEN I read the story. Without question, it was the same story - a few minor differences, but undeniably the same tale. I don't call this "paranormal". I think there are mechanisms in the human brain that enable communication by means beyond our understanding, and that's what was at work in this case. The fact that we don't know how it works doesn't mean it can't happen. It wasn't that long ago that we thought there was such a thing as flogistan.

Q: It is Phlogiston. That is the correct spelling of the incorrect substance. And you are the the most boring human being who ever lived, and I know you accept this with good spirit and we are ending this Gene Pool right now.

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