• There are of course the watch parties to consider, what with Washington, D.C., being a certain kind of hellscape with warped notions of fun has lots of bars that are acting as if the State of the Union were a latter-day Saturnalia. Any D.C.-centric publication worth its salt has published a list of spots where you can nosh and josh with the dorkiest.
  • Happy spectating!

Clare Malone is a freelance writer and member of the editorial staff of The New Yorker. Her work has appeared in The American Prospect, The Daily Beast, Slate, Bloomberg View, and Rust Belt Chic: The Cleveland Anthology. She is a former Prospect web editor. Follow @claremalone