Rather, I write to express more than a tiny tinge of fear as my first night at the Court fast approaches. The Folger sits just behind the Court on 2nd Street and the south side of East Capitol Street. And it was cold. Heinous cold. I suspect that the pre-dawn hours of January 11 and beyond will be even worse: non-non-non-non-heinous cold, in the parlance of my patron saints.
I am now accepting donations: ski masks, sleeping bags, full-body warmers, blubber. Or better yet, legal advice–as I have yet to take Corporations or Tax–on setting F1@1F up as a non-profit charity so that I can write off my own preparatory purchases and transform your donations into tax-deductions. It’s the best I can do, short of banning any alcoholic donations, to prevent my death by misadventure.