Blogging has been light the last few days because (1) the Slaves have been busy packing and unpacking as they move to new office space in their day jobs, and (2) there’s no news. How light a news week is it: Newsweek is a slim and slippery 60 pages. Drudge has virtually no headlines of note.

The only story happening–aside from the impending fall of the Patriot dynasty–is the Oscar nominations which prove that, once again, this is the worst year in the history of Hollywood.

How bad is it? I dare you to name one movie from the crop of Best Picture nominees that, even if you saw it for $12.99 at Blockbuster, you would watch more than twice. It is, I say sadly, a scandal.

Salon can be amusing, for certain, and even intentionally now that El Sid is gone from the premises. This article’s from an old friend of mine, who’s (in a sort of half-mad fashion) promoting the secession movement for people and states who no longer want to live under the imperialist thumb of George W. Bush. Chris, my friend the author, has also sent me an invitation to a seccession party in New York City. In case you want to go, it’s at 7pm Wednesday at Junno’s in the West Village. No cover, it’s “free to the people.” (Of course I don’t think you want to go.)

From WashPost. The D.C. Police department has settled a wrongful arrest lawsuit relating to the World Bank/IMF protests in 2002. The vulnerability in the District’s defense seems to have been that a crowd of protesters was not ordered to disperse before the police began arresting individuals. For 24 hours of inconvenience, each plaintiff will be paid approx $50,000. Fine, whatever. The bad part is that the District has agreed, as part of the settlement, that protesting without a permit is no longer grounds for arrest. Clearly this is one of the only law-enforcement tools available to cities living through the assault and disruption of major protests. Conceding this point strikes me as a serious error.

Finally. As expected, Bill Lyon has it best.

I’ll just say this: I have not been a believer. And I still don’t believe all the way. The New England Patriots are better than the Eagles. If they played five times, the Patriots would win four of them.

But they only have to play once. And in two weeks, in the Supre Bowl, I’m going to watch the Philadelphia Eagles. Watch them win.

Allen Iverson may be the best athlete on the planet not named Jordan. You know what he can do as a basketball player, but look at these gaudy numbers as a high-school quarterback:

During a phenomenal junior year, in 1992, at Bethel High School in Hampton, Va., Iverson accounted for a total of 34 touchdowns. He passed for 1,423 yards and 14 touchdowns. He ran for 781 yards and 15 TDs. He intercepted eight passes as a defensive back, returning one for a score. And he returned four punts all the way to the house. . . . After leading Bethel’s football team to the 1992 Division 5 state championship, Iverson sparked his school to the Virginia Group AAA state basketball championship a few months later, averaging 31.6 points.

He’s a god.

Not for the faint of heart, but Uncle Grambo has a typically bizah pizzle on the Bush twins.

Has anyone else noticed what a tear the Washington Times has been on lately? They’ve been publishing a ton of really good stuff. The latest is Diana West’s column today about the clarity of our enemy:

Which takes me back to the original idea of what there is to achieve by writing about those central, retrograde aspects of Islam that clash with Western society–namely, the precepts of jihad and dhimmitude, and the dictates of sharia law. Clarity is the goal. We are unlikely to witness a security-lite inauguration four years–or eight or 12 years–hence if we remain confused about the ideology that animates our foes. And we are unlikely to ward off the spread of jihad, dhimmitude and sharia law the world over–including the U.S.A.–if we know nothing about it, or, worse, know only apologetics about it. Infinitely more pleasant, they are also misleading.

But apologetics are what we get. Take the reading list that Lt. Gen. John R. Vines, our new commander in Iraq, has given senior staff. It whitewashes jihad, dhimmitude and sharia law with the works of Karen Armstrong and John Esposito. No Bat Ye’or; no Ibn Warraq; no Robert Spencer; no Daniel Pipes; no Paul Fregosi; no Oriana Fallaci; not even any Bernard Lewis. Ignorance before September 11 was bad enough; perpetuating that ignorance is inexcusable.

This is progress. But until our president can speak in such open language, we still have a long, long way to go.

Because it is never too late to celebrate the inauguration, let me recommend to our local readers stopping by for a drink at the Oval Room Restaurant just one block north of the White House. Thanks to the generosity of Chris Swonger and his friends at Allied Domecq (they own Stolichnaya and Maker’s Mark, among others), I had the honor of imbibing in a few of the “inaugural drinks,” strictly for reporting purposes on behalf of Galley Slaves:

The most popular of these libations was the Stoli Oath of Office Martini, a blend of Stoli Ohranj Vodka, Hiram Walker Triple Sec, fresh lime juice, blood orange juice, and a splash of cranberry juice. “The Stoli Oath of Office makes me want to run for office,” exclaimed Nicole Chardavoyne, a resident of the District.

Charissa Benjamin, a native of the beautiful and exotic island of Antigua, preferred the Inaugural Mango Melon Ball “because of the Caribbean flavor of it.” She’s not alone–a fellow named Craig who flew up from Texas described it as “a healthy drink with a kick.” (Quite simply, mix some Malibu Mango Rum, Midori Melon liqueur, pineapple juice, and enjoy.)

But there was also the Black Tie and Boots Martini, a combination of Stoli Vanil, Kahlua Especial, and just a splash of dark roast coffee. It tasted more of a dessert than a drink.

The Oval Room is also serving Texas Kahlua Coffee, which includes Kahlua, Amaretto, Creme de Cocoa, Sauza Hornitos, and heavy cream.

If you can’t make it out there today, make them at home and drink in honor of the president. (After all, he won’t be having any to drink himself.)

Special thanks to Matt J. Lauer and bartender extraordinaire Matthew Mota for their hospitality to Galley Slaves.