Down I-95 in Washington, Templeton is strolling toward the Washington Post headquarters -- the place where Woodward and Bernstein relentlessly pursued the truth, where Shirley Povich covered sports for seven decades, where Michael Wilbon and Tony Kornheiser turned the act of screaming ill-formed opinions at one another into ESPN's current programming directive...well, it all can't be Watergate coverage folks. Anyhow, Templeton is quivering so violently with lust for the Post gig, I'm expecting his ambition to burst out of his body, take on human form, and go on a five-state killing spree. For now, he'll just have to settle for a job interview, I guess.

Back up in Baltimore, Carcetti, Norman, Watkins, Campbell, and Carcetti's chief of staff who I have no use for are in conference. Their purpose: Go down the list of local ministers and make sure each one gets something in return for not kicking up too much of a fuss over Burrell's impending ouster and Rawls' subsequent promotion. (Just for six months, Carcetti protests, while Daniels can be groomed for the position. Why do I have a feeling that six months is going to the longest six months in recorded history?) Anyhow, one minister wants some property up in Park Heights converted to senior housing, while another wants a vacant lot owned by the city turned into parking for her church. Done and done. So Burrell's out, Rawls is in, and Daniels is warming up in the bullpen, right? Not exactly -- Campbell wants to wet her beak as well. "There's the matter of McCullough Homes," she says, just as the meeting is about to break up. That would be the same McCullough Homes housing project adjacent to developer/one-time Stringer Bell business partner Andy Krawcyk's $300 million expansion of the state office complex, Norman helpfully exposits. Campbell would like the housing project demolished, and Carcetti would like Burrell gone, so guess what's going to happen.

Back at the WaPo, an editor who is clearly a bad judge of character praises Templeton's clips. "Some of your feature work is a little wrought for what we do here at the Post language-wise," the editor says, which manages to be both pompous and delightful at the same time. Templeton says that's the style his Sun bosses demand: "To tell you the truth, I prefer to write it dry." And if that fails, I can just make shit up, he does not add. We also learn that Templeton has put in two whole years at the Sun, after three years in Kansas City, and a paper in Wichita before that. Suggestion for the Post's hiring office: check those references carefully. "The Sun's a fine paper," the editor says. "Before the cutbacks, maybe," says Templeton, which is an awfully curious job interview strategy. "No, no -- my current employer is not very good at all. Please hire me so that we can see if their special brand of awfulness is communicable." Nevertheless, the editor goes on to praise the Sun's coverage out of the Annapolis bureau and a series of features that ran in the paper last year; since neither project involved Templeton, he tries to feign interest and fails miserably.