This past weekend, the lady and I took a trip to that most Holy Of Shrines, the Jefferson Memorial. Enclosed are some pictures.

As you may or may not know, I have an unabashed love affair with Jefferson, or as I like to call him, “The Sage of Monticello.” (Not really). He and Robert E. Lee are probably my two favorite dead people in the world. They are certainly the only two people who lived lives so sweet and buttery that I literally cried while reading their biographies.

But I had never been to the Jefferson Memorial before, mainly because there is a giant stinking cesspool of water in between it and the rest of the monument collection in DC. Little did I know that some industrious fellow had invented bridges, and then had the good sense to put one across the tidal basin (as I understand it is called). So the lady and I took a trip, and she took lots of pictures of me grinning stupidly in front of ol’ TJ.

Before TJ, we went to Teddy Roosevelt Island. Now I have never been a big fan of Teddy, but mostly because that time period is kind of boring for me, and also because I feel like if I had met him in real life, he would beat me up. But Maura took this picture because “it sounds like something you would say.” I dunno.

On the thrilling approach. My heart is in my mouth, and if you look closely, you can see where I have wet myself, just a little bit in anticipation and out of respect.

The Statue.

A little bust in the basement. The basement museum is actually pretty nice, although the gift shop kind of sucks. They have all kind of biographies about how Jefferson owned and had sex with SLAVES. I wonder if they have books like those about George Washington in his monument?

In conclusion, I got goosebumps, but I didnt cry. A+.