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hipstamirror

yesterday, obamaday, etc.


Last night we went to King Cobra and sat under the slowly undulating lights to drink Fat Tire out of cans and bask in the glow of a new administration. The bar played the ABC coverage of the Neighborhood Ball on the big screen but only cut to the live audio during Michelle and Barack's first dance to a Beyoncee serenade. The rest of the A-list performances had house rock played over them, inducing some surprising dissonances. But how about that dance, right?

This, after a morning waking up before dawn to get in a line to scurry for table, to plead for mimosas and end up eating cupcakes and being awestruck and winding up with a champagne hangover by four in the afternoon.

and then, even later, dashing across the street to catch Tapes 'n Tapes using their heavy metal voices. A guy pushed his way to the front and handed them campaign signs, but nothing really came of it. The show was a welcome break from talking about the future and the return of optimism. They played my favorite three songs, saving the hits for the end. But if there is a better line of devotion in spaghetti western indie rock than "I will be your badger", I'm not sure what it is. Actually, I worry that I've always misheard that line, but if so please how about just not telling me.

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