Not that you didn’t know—or even participate—but last night was Washington’s premier schmoozy event: The White House Correspondent’s Association Dinner. (And, if you actually weren’t aware, consider yourself lucky.) The glitzy event, which is obnoxiously shorthanded as “Nerd Prom,” brings Hollywood’s stars, top politicians, and some of the journalists who cover them to the Washington Hilton Hotel for an evening of schmoozing, picture snapping, (some) cringeworthy jokes, and, well, fundraising.

What started as a charity gala has long since transformed in to an annual cesspool, The focus in recent years has become less and less about the fundraising and more about the masses of celebrities that flock to D.C., and more locally, the plethora of sumptuous after-parties.

It’s the one time of year that D.C. essentially turns into a facsimile Hollywood, with status-aspiring Washingtonians risking lives and limbs just to be in the same massive ballroom with somebody who stars in a middling ABC hospital drama.

Each year, many media companies try to buy tables at the event, and use the opportunity to invite celebrities as guests. But when BuzzFeed, the New York-based website and GIF factory, tried to score a table to this year’s dinner, it was shut out by the staid establishment types.

But in This Town, when you get refused from a party, you can always rent a bar and watch said party on video. BuzzFeed’s invite-only BBQ-themed party at Jack Rose Dining Saloon in Adam’s Morgan boasted an open bar, platters of finger food, and a D.J. It also represents exactly why the White House Correspondent’s Dinner—and the culture surrounding it—is pretty much awful.

In fairness, the White House Correspondent’s Association dinner does serve a bit of a good purpose. Every year the association doles out about $100,000 in scholarships for budding journalists, which is a great. Then again, it also rakes in $2,750 per table of 10 people—this year’s dinner is attended by about 3,000 people.

Over the years, the charity has been grossly overshadowed by the political media, which increasingly treats the event as a pointless celebrity gathering. To the public’s eye, the dinner represents the apotheosis of media narcissism.

And one needs not look further to find that narcissism (outside of, you know, the actual dinner) than BuzzFeed’s party. When I rolled up to Jack Rose about 7:20 p.m., there was already a line snaking down 18th Street. As I waited the line, limos and Lincoln Town Cars pulled up to unload “V.I.P.” party goers, who promptly skipped the queue because they are, you know, important or whatever. Let me reiterate: This was a White House Correspondent’s Dinner watch party. A watch party.

In the party, local journos, politicos, and eager party-goers dressed in their finery schmoozed and boozed as a DJ pumped top 40 hits at deafening levels. There were three TV’s showing C-SPAN’s broadcast of the actual dinner, but any chances to actually hear it during this “watch party” is essentially blown. As I walked the room and talked to a few people, I politely asked one suit-and-tie-clad gentleman why he and his friends are dressed so dapperly.

“We want to look like we’re going somewhere important after this” he responded.

As C-SPAN continued unnoticed (seriously, BuzzFeed, why even bother putting it on?), people got boozier and the DJ thumped his beats louder. Eventually, the scene in Jack Rose devolved into a cramped, sweaty, and decidedly awkward dance party. Among the grinding masses of BuzzFeed staffers and other D.C. journos and politicos, there were whispers of celebrity cameos slated to visit the incestuous party. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit curious to see cast members from House of Cards schmoozing it up with the BuzzFeed crowd. After all, Zoe Barnes would fit right in with the BuzzFeed crowd, no? (And, indeed, many cast members of House of Cards eventually arrived.)

Before the scene turned into something of a “Harlem Shake” fever dream, I met a Politico reporter who was also there on assignment. She told me that there were rumors that Jose Canseco was going to show up to the party and that her editors told her that if he didn’t actually show up, not to file anything.

As of press time, Politico did not have any stories on how the former steroid-addled slugger spent his Saturday night.