I worked in the Cannon House Office Building for a little while. Lowest guy on the totem pole, but still part of the place. When I’d take the Metro home for the night, I didn’t use the station that was right outside the building. I used the one on the other side of the Capitol Building, just so I could walk through the House tunnels, the Rotunda, and the maze of Senate hallways. I’d stop in the middle of the rotunda, look up at the dome, and just gawk. Every. Single. Night. I’d grip my staff ID – a prized, well-earned “pass” to the halls of power – and just feel the place. In all the time I worked on the Hill, I visited the House floor exactly once, for about ten minutes. Lauren was with me and she can tell you how I practically froze. I was in awe of the Chamber and everything it stood for, everything it had seen. I took a look at those brown leather seats and thought about the sacrifice and hard work it took to earn the right to sit in one of them. It fueled my awe of that austere, symbolic Chamber. So today, when I saw on television a bunch of costumed punks cut the proverbial line – no, crash through and violently destroy the line – to sit in those chairs, having not sacrificed anything but their dignity, my blood boiled. Frankly, it’s still boiling. A disgraceful, unpatriotic display fomented by the truly deranged. The rioters who desecrated the United States Capitol today can’t fathom that building’s history and how infinitesimally they compare. I’m mad as hell, not just as someone who had the privilege to work in this place, but as an American who expects better from those who sit in its seats - both unearned and earned.