I walked to the nearest corner store in Anacostia yesterday because I needed crackers for soup. I don’t go there often because it’s not the most pleasant of places; it’s dank and the owners—nice people—collect their money from behind plexiglass. But I walked in yesterday to find a new owner and disturbing changes. Previously, you walked around, collected your items and paid at the front counter. Now, the entire store is behind Plexiglas. You have to point to the items you want and the owner goes and gets them for you. Read full article > >

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Uniontown owner’s arrest: A step backward for historic Anacostia?

I walked to the nearest corner store in Anacostia yesterday because I needed crackers for soup. I don’t go there often because it’s not the most pleasant of places; it’s dank and the owners—nice people—collect their money from behind plexiglass. But I walked in yesterday to find a new owner and disturbing changes. Previously, you walked around, collected your items and paid at the front counter. Now, the entire store is behind Plexiglas. You have to point to the items you want and the owner goes and gets them for you. Read full article > >

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Uniontown owner’s arrest: A step backward for historic Anacostia?

Google wants your phone to make you a superhero, to make you more powerful and to make you smarter. On top of all that, Google wants you to love your phone, too. Apparently, love is an emotion the company has found lacking when it comes to its Android line of smartphones. I know what you’re thinking: How is it possible the public has failed to fall in love with devices called Droids? Devices that are advertised primarily in violent television spots that seem to indicate the phone is as likely to put you in a meat grinder as it is to help you find directions to the nearest deli? Read full article > >

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Google’s new Galaxy Nexus: a phone with a soul

Like countless drivers before me, last month I faced the embarrassment of being pulled over by the park police for speeding on Northern Virginia’s congested George Washington Memorial Parkway — during the evening rush hour, no less. As passing traffic slowed, the ire of onlooking motorists became the least of my concerns. The officer informed me that I was being placed under arrest for driving with a suspended license, the result, I later learned, of an administrative error at the D.C. Department of Motor Vehicles. He handcuffed me, placed me in the back of his cruiser and took me to the nearest police station. It was there that I became a victim of another sort. Read full article > >

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He asked. I didn’t tell.