I had business down in Salem today. As we make all of our arrangements and finalize our move, my wife and I will most likely be purchasing a little condo in NE Portland. Nothing too big or fancy, just affordable and cute. As a result, I drove down to Salem today to meet with my mortgage broker and to crunch some numbers with her.

I'd never spent serious time in Salem before, so I was pleasantly surprised. Maybe it's just the out-of-LA talking, but the place has a nice, small-town feel to it. Anyway, I was driving down one of the major arterials that the mortgage company's office is located on. When I arrive, I pull into the driveway, park, and get out of the car. Now, this place doesn't have its own building; it's in one of those multi-use office buildings. I look on the big sign advertising the tenants and see none other than the "Oregon Republican Party."

Unwittingly, I had stumbled onto the state headquarters of that other political party which I don't belong to. Taking this knowledge and smiling proudly at my litany of "War is Not the Answer" and "John Edwards '08" bumper stickers, I go inside the building and conduct my mortgage-related business. An hour or so later after I'm done, I wander upstairs in the building and find the Republican office, hoping to obtain some paraphernalia or a pamphlet or something.

The entrance to the headquarters is a big brown door, and it has one of those tall, one foot-wide glass slits in it, so I spend a few moments peering through that. There's no one at the front desk, so I can stand there all day and watch.

And the view wasn't pretty.

All I can see are two, big, gaudy frames holding the smiling and sneering images of our President and Vice-President, set above the receptionist's desk. There are a few more pictures (one at the 2004 Republican National Convention and some other ones that I couldn't identify) and a table holding many of my sought-after pamphlets.

Okay, I say to myself. I'm going to go inside and inquire about this reading material. Might provide some interesting points for a future blog post. I notice that a little sign on the receptionist desk says "Ring Bell for Service." Excellent. I go to open the door.

It's locked.

I try again, with no change. I proceed to knock for a few minutes on-and-off, seeing if anyone's there. No one ever came. I couldn't ring the bell, acquire pamphlets, or learn about why the Republican party might be right for me.

Because the door was locked.

While the people there might have been out to lunch or on holiday, it wasn't too unreasonable of an hour: 3 p.m. on a Thursday. Sure, I understand that it's their door and they can lock it as they choose, but I think the metaphor is apt. The lights were on, and materials were set out, and everything was ready, but no one was home when I knocked.

Sort of like the current state of affairs in Washington D.C., huh? The lights are on, everything's ready to go, and our nation is primed to make a difference. But no one's home in the Executive Branch. Our people are knocking all the time, and they're just not answering.

At least not if they don't like who's at the door.