Sally's sad again. The bitter vinegary bubble-head has written this same basic complaint before.

Washington is, and has been, a Democratic town. Trump won 5 percent of the vote here in 2020; in both of his presidential elections, George W. Bush won 9 percent; Ronald Reagan never won more than 14 percent. However, throughout the years, the Washington Establishment always welcomed incoming GOP administrations. The D.C. social scene -- which connected the most powerful people in any given administration with political donors, philanthropists, lawyers, lobbyists and journalists, all Washington fixtures -- had a way of surviving, no matter the politics of the president.

In that spirit, every four or eight years, I would write a piece for The Washington Post with advice to the incoming administration about how to get along. Four years ago I wrote one as well. It wasn't intentional, but the story turned into a satire, more suited for the Onion. After all, how do you give etiquette advice to someone who has bragged about grabbing women's private parts; who has mocked a disabled reporter; who has called journalists "scum," "phony" and "the lowest form of humanity"; who has falsely claimed that his predecessor was not born in America; who has demeaned a war hero by saying he preferred people who were not captured; who had insulting names for his Republican primary opponents and called his female opponent in the general election "a nasty woman"? The piece didn't work. It never ran.

The D.C. establishment simply viewed the Trump people as an occupying army, and from 2017 through early 2020, the Washington social scene as we had known it dried up. People had their own gatherings and carried on as if there were no president. The president, his wife and those who work closely with them in any administration normally set the social tone. This time it didn't happen. There were two camps and hardly any intermingling.

The winter holidays in 2019 were a round of obligatory parties, but subdued, desultory, dispirited by Washington standards. Everyone was exhausted -- mentally, physically and emotionally. The trees were up, the wreaths were on the doors, the decorations were on the streets, the Hanukkah candles were lit, the Christmas carols were on the radio. But people didn't have their hearts in it. The conversations were Trump, Trump, Trump. It was not very merry.

Is there anything more tedious than reading a privileged kept woman whine that no one wants to come to her stupid "society" parties any longer?

Well, get ready for more tedium.

Watergate-Era Washington Was Less Toxic Than This

It's spring in Washington, D.C., the most beautiful time of the year. Dogwood, forsythia, cherry trees, tulips and daffodils decorate every sidewalk, wisterias weep from porch overhangs, and redbuds pop up at every corner. The air is redolent of blossoms, a soft breeze sharing their scent through the streets. It's the perfect backdrop for the columned monuments and buildings that remind us of the miracle of our democracy. Spring is normally the happiest time of year here.

But not this spring.

This spring Washington is a city in crisis. Physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. It's as if the fragrant air were permeated with an invisible poison, as if we were silently choking on carbon monoxide. The emotion all around -- palpable in the streets, the shops, the restaurants, in business offices, at dinner tables -- is fear. People have gone from greeting each other with a grimace of anguish as they spout about the outrage of the day to a laugh to despair. It's all so unbelievable that it's hard to process, and it doesn't stop.

Nobody feels safe. Nobody feels protected. This is a city where people seek and, if it all goes well for them, wield power. But today in Washington those who hold -- or once held -- the most power are often the most scared. It is not something they are used to feeling. I lived through the paranoia and vengefulness of Watergate. This time in Washington, it's different. Nobody knows how this will end and what will happen to the country. What might happen to each of us.

Your fear is intoxicating. I'd like to laugh and say "You're just being paranoid," but... actually, you may be arrested. Take precautions.

You and your ilk have waged unholy war on the rest of the country for decades and we're finally ready to start fighting that war.

Even those who work for President Trump are scared. The capricious and shambolic way he governed in his first 100 days has them all insecure in their jobs. Mike Waltz is out. Bets are on as to how long Marco Rubio will remain in all his roles and Pete Hegseth in his. Elon Musk is on his way out, though who knows whether he'll be able to log back into the government's most sensitive systems from wherever he is? Those most afraid are the Republicans on Capitol Hill. They are afraid of not just being primaried but also facing retribution. Lisa Murkowski said it out loud. "We are all afraid," she said. "Retaliation is real. And that's not right."

...

One night during Barack Obama's second term, I sat next to Lindsey Graham at a Washington dinner party. He was, at that time, charming, funny, bright, thoughtful. Both of us were decrying the widening gap between Republicans and Democrats in our nation's capital. I remember him turning to me and suggesting that we start having small dinner parties for Republicans and Democrats to get together and talk. I agreed immediately.

We never got around to it. That conversation could never take place today.

The Trump socializing style is a striking departure from what went on in Washington for decades. Salons, where we got to know one another and exchanged ideas, are out. The preferred entertainment now is large galas in gilded halls and cavernous buildings with lots of flags, ribbons, hats and noise.

...

The restaurants of choice have changed....

Oh no, what will you do?

...

This summer a new club, the Executive Branch -- owned by Donald Trump Jr., Steve Witkoff's sons and Omeed Malik -- will open in Georgetown. With a Mar-a-Lago-esque membership fee of $500,000, expect it to be where the monarchical court life this president is imposing on Washington will play out.

With Mr. Trump in the White House, anyone who socializes with Democrats can come under suspicion.

...

Among once powerful lawyers, journalists, politicians, academics and lobbyists who have made up official Washington for the past few decades, the feeling is one of impotence, fear and frustration.

The hallmark of this administration is cruelty and sadism, vengefulness carried out with glee. Mr. Musk said it best: "The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy." The prominent historian Michael Beschloss said during Mr. Trump's last campaign that a second term could lead to "dictatorship and anarchy." At the time, he was accused of being alarmist. Not anymore.

"Everybody in Washington is being tested today," says Leon Wieseltier, the editor of the literary review Liberties. "The question is: What can we do? It's a time when we all have to ask: What am I capable of? It's time for people to ask: What am I willing to die for?"

But we still have to remember to live.

Their "existence" is being erased, you guys. They have to remind themselves just to continue existing.

She does have a plan for existing: Improv comedy.

Seeing the joy and relief of people getting together, not long ago, I scheduled an improv party. I have been taking improv classes for several years (performances and all), and for me, it's been two and a half hours once a week of nothing but laughter. I come out of each class or performance exhilarated. Some 23 brave friends showed up at my improv party prepared to make fun of themselves, and we all did. It was a riot.

Yeah you sound super-funny to me, I bet it was a real hoot.

...

I was thinking about how perhaps improv might be a way to think about the way forward for each of us. Right now, the established script for how D.C. operates, and our roles in it, has been shredded. It's time to write a new one. We need to be willing to surprise ourselves.