Blimp, part two, and Baseball

Dang if I wasn’t followed by the spy blimp from my apartment to my bus stop. Or rather, the putt-putt-putting blimp was rounding up from Capitol Hill and heading up P Street in the same direction as my bus.

And there it was, over Georgetown when I got out from work. Odd, but perhaps it might lend its identity to the new-but-who-cares baseball team that we’re evidently in dire need of.

Either that or call the team the Washington Black Squirrels (which we have many of).

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