On both sides of the street (10th Street NW) on snow-crusted lawns silvered from lighted front windows, yard signage is fairly evenly arrayed. Trump–Biden. Hard to know which bunch I’d rather run afoul of—a mob of shrieking, sandaled liberals waving blue security blankets, or a stampede of tattooed muscle-bound yokels with AR-15s and redacted copies of the constitution.
