Sacre Bleu!

This is a pretty great video. Notice our gallant and chivalrous President as opposed to that dirt ball Frenchie. Although to be honest, this kind of makes me like Sarkozy more. Even though he surrendered immediately after checking this woman out.

(Headline of the day goes to Wonkette, who posted this video alongside the title: Here is Obama looking at that Gal's Badonkadonk!)

You betcha!

Webster's Choice

Good news, linguaphiles! Merriam-Webster has just announced 100 additions for their venerable dictionary. It's unclear if Ma'am and George weighed in.

These new words, ranging from acai to zip line, are reflective of the times (carbon footprint, flash mob, and vlog are all new entries).

Check out the link of 25 of the new words here. And let us know what words you think they left out.

I'll start:

PALIN

Main Entry:

²palin

Function:

verb

Inflected Form(s):

palin also pal·ined; pal·ing

Etymology:

Middle English quiten, quitten, from Anglo-French quiter, from quite free of, released, from Latin quietus quiet, at rest

Date:

20th century

transitive verb1: to make full payment of : pay up <palin a debt>2: to set free : relieve, release <palin oneself of fear>3: conduct, acquit palined themselves like men>4 a: to depart from or out of b: to leave the company of c: give up 1 <palin a job> d: give up 2 <palin smoking>intransitive verb1: to cease normal, expected, or necessary action palined>2: to give up employment3: to admit defeat : give up

synonyms see quit

Technical Difficulties

Apparently Wurreyface is having technical difficulties and cannot update her blog. After perusing her site, I can attest that her story checks out.

So, either I can claim victory twice in as many weeks, or give her a pass and momentarily suspend the Great July Blogoff! (patent pending)

I've decided on the latter, and remain hopeful that she'll be back up and publishing by the day's end.

For those of you keeping score at home, today's topic was going to be about breakfast cereal. Specifically: which is your favorite brand?

For me, the answer is three delicious words: Frosted Mini Wheats.

Here's a picture of a rare quadruple mini wheat taken from this morning's breaky.

Delicious.

Tim for Traitor?

Tomorrow, Massachusetts Treasurer Timothy P. Cahill is announcing that he is leaving the Democratic party and registering as an unenrolled voter. In Massachusetts, there is no independent voter designation, so this is the closest thing.

This almost certainly means that Cahill will mount a third party challenge to Governor Deval Patrick in the 2010 election. Republicans Christy Mihos and Charlie Baker are also looking at the race. Although this may be a play by Cahill to force Baker -- the GOP's Hamlet -- from taking the plunge. Most pundits agree that while Baker could be a stronger force then Mihos, a third party challenge from Cahill will cripple Republican strength among moderates.

This would seem to bode well for Governor Patrick, because of the argument that he'll face two opponents who will split the anti-incumbent vote.

That's fine by me.

I remain an unabashed Patrick supporter and have been since I first met the Guv in 2005. While campaigning for a council seat, then-candidate Patrick told me that he wanted to be helpful.

"Do you accept donations from outside your district?" He asked.

"Wow -- you are new to this business!" I joked.

I think that the Deval Patrick and Tim Murray administration has been superb. While there have been some minor hiccups, the Guv has led through an abysmal economic time with dignity, class, and innovation. The life sciences bill, ethics reform, and tough but fair budgets have borne that out. I'll was proud to campaign for him in 2006 and will be proud to campaign for his reelection.

One quick story from the 2006 race: In mid-September of that year, I walked into the HQ in Charlestown to drop off my dear friend cards. As I made my way in, then-candidate Patrick was leaving to attend a press conference where he was announcing a major endorsement: the only statewide constitutional officer to weigh-in on the Democratic primary. That endorsement came from Treasurer Tim Cahill.

One of the points that has been constantly replayed in the media's account of the Cahill party switch was his inability to win a delegate seat among the Democratic State Committee last year.

As a member of the DSC who voted against Cahill, I wanted to shine a little more light on what transpired; and why I voted against a guy who I had supported for years.

As well all know now, the delegate process for the Democratic party is a complicated and arduous one. We divvy up delegates based on percentages of votes cast in Congressional districts. Additionally, certain seats are awarded to governor's, members of Congress, and DNC members. State party committees elect slates of PLEO's (that is Party Leaders and Elected Officials). Finally, we elect two unpledged superdelegates (one man, and one woman).

In years past, those seats, at least in Massachusetts, have gone to party stalwarts and elected officials. It hasn't mattered that they were unpledged, as by the time the DSC met to elect the delegates, the nominating contest had been over for months.

Such was not the case in 2008. While then-candidate Obama had the momentum and the delegate lead in May, we in the Clinton campaign would not cede an inch. As such, even the fight for one unpledged delegate seat became a campaign in and of itself.

Although Obama had the support of the Governor and the estimable state party chair John Walsh, we Clintonites had the support of the rank and file state committee membership.

We decided to target the two unpledged superdelegate seats with our people. The goal was to fill two seats with people who were pledged after all -- to Hillary Clinton.

We knew that Attorney General Martha Coakley was running for the female pledged spot and her late endorsement of Clinton mitigated any need for us to target it. The male seat would be a little trickier. Cahill had announced that he was running and refused to announce which candidate he'd support. This may be appropriate, as he was running for an unpledged seat, but we were playing for keeps.

One of my friends who works for the Treasurer called me.

"We need your vote on Saturday." he said.

"You've got it, if the Treasurer votes for Hillary." I stated.

"He might." He pleaded.

"Who's the treasurer going to vote for at the convention?" I asked.

"He's undecided." My friend replied.

"The primary was two months ago. He voted. Who did he vote for?" I was playing hardball.

"@#$%% you." My friend knew I was a stubborn Irishman.

The vote came up at the convention. On the first ballot, there were three candidates. Cahill topped the ticket, but did not reach his threshold. The third place candidate was defeated and threw his support to Arthur Powell, a party activist from Beverly.

Speeches from both remaining candidates filled the hall. Cahill pleaded for the chance to go to Denver and represent the state. He seemed to sense that something was happening. Powell did too, and spent most of his speech smiling.

On the second ballot, Powell out-polled Cahill and claimed the unpledged superdelegate spot. He immediately pledged to support Hillary.

Cahill left the hall.

And that's what happened. Cahill's loss at the IBEW Hall wasn't so much a rebuke against him as it was a determined effort for the Massachusetts for Clinton team to fight for every last delegate. I'll never understand why Cahill didn't come out for Hillary (who won 57% of the state) or stake his claim in President Obama's camp; who, at that point, was seen as the almost certain winner of the nomination.

Perhaps he truly was undecided. Or perhaps he's just a stubborn Irishman.

***

N.B. Wurreyface, obviously this is far too narrow a topic for you to blog about, but I wanted to share this story as it is topical. I figure any political story -- of which you have many -- could suffice. The NH Primary is always a good source.

Low Rider

Tonight marks Nomar Garciaparra's return to Fenway Park. Nomar was a fan favorite and longtime Sox all-star. His abrupt departure to the Cubs in 2004 left many fans bitter. However, Red Sox Nation will no doubt be a little more forgiving tonight, chiefly because Nomar's new organization, the Oakland A's, are saddled with a 34-46 last place standing. The olde towne team, on the other hand, is claiming first place with a 49-32 record.

Garciaparra is the only MLB player who was a recurring theme on an SNL skit. Who can forget the Boston teens played by the hilarious Rachel Dratch (Denise) and ho-hum Jimmy Fallon (Sully). With Boston accents that made mine seem downright tame, these kids were driven by an insatiable appetite for hooking up that was only rivaled by a love of all things Nomah.



And so tonight, our former #5 is back after five years and two World Series victories. He deserves credit in helping to establish the dominance of the Red Sox of late.

Welcome back, and thanks for eight good years, Nomaaaahhh.

You're up, Wurrey.

Live from South Yarmouth!

It's 10 after 7 o'clock on Sunday evening and I'm sitting on a couch in my parents cottage in Cape Cod. I have decided to heed the warning of those giant billboards on Route 6 by planning my Sunday commute after 7pm (the other option was before 2pm, but I've missed that window).

I'm anxious to get on the road, so this will be brief. Truth be told, I was planning on reacting to Wurrey's piece today, but she has yet to post. Therefore, I get to pick the topic.

I began typing this on my iPhone, but for some reason couldn't figure out how to type in blogspot with my phone. I could type in the title, link, and labels fields but not the main body. Any suggestions?

I have been a iPhone user -- and fan -- for quite sometime. My dad and sister Kiki are new recruits. Last night, we were discussing the marvels of the Shazam application. Shazam is a music based-identifying service that picks up embedded codes and cues to translate audible sounds into naming song titles and artists. Once you've downloaded the free application, all you have to do is hold your phone to a speaker and it will identify the song. It's really quite remarkable.

During this conversation, my father tried to get his phone to id the Pops' concert.

It won't work on live performances, I explained, because the technology is based on the acoustic footprint of the CD's.

Oh, my father said. No wonder it couldn't identify my singing Happy Birthday.

What's your favorite iPhone application?

It's 4th of July Eve! (also known as the 3rd of July)

Oh, I can turn invisible if I really tr-y hard!

Friends, well-wishers, new referrals who have been sent her from Wurreyland, I bid you all a Happy Independence Day.

Tomorrow is America's 233rd birthday. And yet, she doesn't look a day over 161! It's among my favorite days of the year -- any holiday that is equal parts burgers and dogs/cold brewski's/and fireworks and may take place at the beach is way better, then say, boring old Arbor Day.

Once I publish the post, I'll be en route to Old Cape Cod for the duration of the weekend.
I'll be celebrating with friends and family, and can't wait for the break.

It will be tough to top last year's Go Fourth on the Fifth party -- my family's annual summer bash (this year we are opting for a Christmas in August soiree). Last year's party was a blast: great people and great times. There was even some late-night swimming that was thrown in for good measure.

This year, things promise to be tamer -- (insert high-pitched Peter Griffin voice) or do they?

I am a little bummed that I'll be missing Sir Neil Diamond's performance with the Boston Pops at the Hatch Shell, however. After a lackluster couple of years, Keith Lockhart has regained his mojo and selected a superb performer to accompany the nation's oldest orchestra on our big day.

I saw Neil Diamond about a week after 9/11 at the MCI Center in DC. He opened with America, and the place went nuts. He then played it two more times (consecutively) after that. It seemed to lose a little luster.

Still, Neil is a showman's showman and promises to put on one hell of a performance. The beauty of Diamond (and to a lesser extent Billy Joel), is that while he may be an easy target for being "lame," almost everyone in the country can name (and sing!) his songs.

Without further adieu, here is my theme for the day: What are your Top 5 Neil Diamond songs?

I'll start:

5.) I am, I said
With lyrics like: "and no one heard at all, not even the chair," how could this not be on my list?

4.) Heartlight
I am unsure if this song was really about ET, or if my mother just told me it was. I don't think it was in the movie but, regardless, it's a nice little ditty.

3.) America
I've killed with this at every Karaoke bar in the tri-county area.

2.) Sweet Caroline
Floating around among the internets, there is some grainy video of my serenading a senior citizens group to this song from a previous campaign. I still can't believe I lost.

1.) Sooliamon
Often overlooked, I've always loved this song.

Those are mine. There are Wurrey's. What are yours? Let us know in the comment section.

Guilty as charged

My Top 5 guilty pleasures, per the excellent suggestion of the trying-to-redeem herself Wurreyface, are as follows:

I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache.

1.) Jimmy Buffet: If/when I win the lottery, I shall move to Key West and divvy up my time among a.) attending his shows; b.) sitting on the beach; and c.) hanging out at Captain Tony's.

Even their logo is boring.

2.) C-SPAN: Okay, this isn't a guilty pleasure as much as an uber-nerdy one. To me, quality television consists of the dulcet tones of Brian Lamb, a Booknotes episode on the new Jackson biography (Andrew, not Michael); or a heated discussion over the merits of President Obama's cape and trade policies versus protectionism.

Sustenance for the gods!

3.) Little Debbie Nutty Bars: I've been good in limiting my intake, but there are few things more delicious then a two-pack of these chocolate-peanut butter flake bars. Particularly if they are frozen and ingested as a midnight snack.

I'm on the right.

4.) Website time wasters: Namely, irreverent sites like Awkward Family Photos (of which I can relate); and the genius that is Youtube. Youtube particularly gets a call-out as it has provided me with both repeat viewings of Doug Flutie's Hail Mary pass at the '84 Rose Bowl AND clips from Hollywood Square's breakout 1980's version.

The King of All Media

5.) Howard Stern: My car radio's presets feature both NPR and Howard 100. If I have company in the car, I prove my erudition and smahts by listening to Terry Gross. If I am alone, I opt for something truly Gross -- and equally hilarious. I have been a Stern fan since the ninth grade and followed Howard to satellite. He's outrageous, offensive, and shocking. He is also one of the funniest and innovative broadcasters out there. Baba booey to you all.

So there you have it. Those are my five; these are WF's five. What are yours? If you can't list 5, at least cop to one. Let us know in the comment section.

Breaking News

The magnanimity of Alexander towards the captive Porus.

In the spirit of the season, I have decided to be gracious in victory.

As such, I am affording local tosspot Sarah W. Wurrey the opportunity to reenter this month-long blogging battle under the following conditions:

1.) She must blog on July 4th, our previously scheduled day of rest.
2.) I am awarded one bye day for the next month. Like the sought-after Free Spin disk on Wheel of Fortune, I may redeem this at my choosing. If I do not use it, I win by default.

Capiche?

Ladies and Gentlemen: The Great July Blogoff continues!

And so it ends?

Wurrey = FAIL

Two days ago, and with great fanfare, blogger and local cat-lady Sarah W. Wurrey challenged me to a blogging war. The rules were simple: we would have to blog every day for the entire month. Whomever blogged first would get to select the theme for the day.

So yesterday, I blogged first. It was a little ditty about a local pub in DC. Wurreyface was set to respond (she even im'd me regarding her planned post). Yet, she never did.

And so, roughly 24 hours after this all-out blogging war began, I can now claim victory.

It's a little hollow.

Still, a win is a win is a win. And I'll pledge to provide daily blog updates for the next month for you daily communicants.

My only regret now is that we didn't actually wager anything.

And so it begins.

This posting marks the opening salvo in a month-long blogging war with former Center for Media & Public Affairs Ombudsman, Sarah W. Wurrey. As I am intensely competitive, I am writing it just after midnight on Wednesday, July 1st. Wurreyface has this bizarre notion that I go to bed early; when, in fact, I am a night owl. Score one for the Red Team.

As I am, in all likelihood, going first, I get to pick the topic du jour. WF then has to write about my topic, or something tangentially related.

I have decided to launch this experiment with a friendly lob. Today's topic will be on the place where WF and I became friends: Lindy's Red Lion.

Those familiar with Foggy Bottom are no doubt familiar with the 'Lion. A favorite haunt of Colonials and neighborhood folks alike, the Lion is a terrific little college bar that offers good food, great brew, and a friendly atmosphere.

Moreover, the Lion had a cast of characters that rival any sitcom. There was the bartender that would, I am not making this up, sell his underwear on eBay (claiming it belonged to a fictitious porn star); there was the surly bouncer who was equal parts gruff and sensitive (allowing a lecture on renaissance artists in between giving people the bum's rush); there was the prof who would measure his drink intake with lemons (and stop grading papers after he hit 8). And then there was us; the two occasional patrons who worked on their theses while sitting on stool's number 5 and 6.

Each night at the Lion was like an episode of Cheers. We even had our own Frasier -- Watergate resident and infrequent guest Ben Stein! Many of my friends would opt for the club scene or a hipper bar, but I was quite happy with sitting back and soaking in the friendly tavern.

I have to address the elephant in the room, since I assume it will be the crux of WF's piece: the smell. As the Lion was located in a row house, space was limited. The basement of the unit was reserved for their kitchen/take out counter. Here, the main fare was grease in the form of burgers and fries. Also, as the case with most bars in the early 2000's, people would smoke with reckless abandon in their establishment. These odors, coupled with the standard beer smell in most watering holes, formed a unique concoction that would marry your clothes and skin for days on end. A small price to pay, I contend.

(Although, now that I mention it: the Lion was the location for many of my first dates that did not necessarily result in second dates. Perhaps this is the reason why. I can't imagine why more girls wouldn't love a night out in such a happenin' joint!)

Okay, here's where you come in: What's your favorite, Cheers-like bar of old time. Let us know in the comment section.

To see Wurreyface's claptrap, please click here.

Epilogue: At my DC going away party, the staff at the Lion gave me the plastic crab that hung over the bar as a memento. It is currently hanging in my kitchen and I use it primarily to tease my young nephews. Several old college pals still ask me about the crab. I am pleased to report that we are both doing well.

It's on.

I accept.

College Pal, Blogger, and former New Hampshire resident Sarah W. "Wurreyface" Wurrey has challenged me to a blogging duel. For the month of July she has proposed that we update our blogs daily. The topics will be chosen by whomever blogs first. Whoever misses a day (save July 4th), loses.

Never backing away from a challenge, I eagerly accepted.

Watch this space tomorrow -- and every day for the next 31 days -- for some compelling and/or ridiculous blogs about the Red Sox, the West Wing, and beer.

Until then, I couldn't let this day pass without:

1.) Congratulating Senator Al Franken and;

2.) Posting this news clip:

Yes, those were the days!

Saturday night was spent unexpectedly at the Sand Bar for the Rock King's late show. Despite overcast skies, way too much rain, and temps reminiscent of April, it finally now feels like summer.

Rockwell King has been performing at the venerable Dennis joint for over half of a century. He's quickly approaching 90 years old, yet still delivers two strong shows every Saturday night through Labor Day. His jokes are a mix of the corny, the quick, and the bawdy. And by "bawdy," I mean jokes like this gem: My doctor told me to get a vasectomy at Sears. Now every time I make love, the garage door opens!

Rock's age is part of the show's appeal. Sure he may forget a punch line every now and then and may stumble on some lyrics, but what octogenarian wouldn't? He's a mensch -- through and through. His show's are well worth the low price of admission and the audience participation component (On Saturday, I sang Edelweiss for the first time since my 4th grade performance of The Sound of Music) makes the show a uniquely fun experience.

If you're on cape this summer and looking for a break from Sundancer's or Main Street in Hyannis; swing by the Sand Bar for one of Rocky's shows. You'll be glad you did. Just stay a away from the chips & dip.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, some auteur has posted this great little video on Youtube. His introduction sums up the genius that defines the Rock King: An 84-year old Cape Cod legend plays boogie-woogie piano punctuated with dirty doctor jokes at the same watering hole for over fifty years.

MJ

To note the significance of Michael Jackson's death, one needs to only point out that the utterly ridiculous "newspaper," the Metro has dedicated several pages to his passing. This is noteworthy because the Metro typically allocates a haiku for most news reports. [Election fraud in Iran/people protest/that's not good.]

Jackson died in Los Angeles yesterday. He was 50 years old.

Everyone on the planet has heard of Jackson. He was a gifted musician who's music left an indelible mark on pop-culture. A prolific performer and entertainer, Jackson was the biggest star of the 1980's and perhaps beyond.

He was also an odd man who's taste for eccentricities became the fodder for tabloid legend. The always quotable NY Post proffered many Jacko-related headlines through the years. I remember one time in the mid-90's when Jackson fell down during a concert. The Post blared: Wacko Jacko on his Backo! Saturday Night Live did a skit on this headline alone.

He was also, it should be noted, tried for child molestation. He beat the wrap, but questions surrounding his inappropriate behavior never left him. Nor, in this blogger's humble opinion, should they have. Perhaps I am too judgemental, but anytime anyone is ever accused of one of the world's worst crimes, I can never look at them the same way.

Still, Jackson's death was a shock. And public reaction can only be equated to the tragic death of Princess Diana in 1997.

I think perhaps his greatest legacy was We Are the World. In 1985, after taping of the American Music Awards, Jackson, Lionel Ritchie, and Quincy Jones put together an all-star cast to perform a simple yet hauntingly profound song that would raise awareness and funds for famine victims in Africa. The American response to Bob Geldof's iconic Feed the World, We Are the World was a huge success and a beautiful piece of music.



I heard of Jackson's death through Facebook. I had to attend a wake after work yesterday, then decided to take advantage of the nice weather by going for a little run. I got home, showered, and began to get ready for my night plans but first logged-on to the social-networking site. I was greeted with countless status updates paying homage to MJ (as well as Farrah Fawcett and Ed McMahon). This was the first time that I learned of a major news event from a source other than traditional media. I found that interesting.

Five quick thoughts (with pictures!)

I bought a pineapple at Rochies last night. This is noteworthy, because I've always been intimidated by the spiky fruit. I don't have a clue as to how to dissect it. Tonight I'll try. Film at eleven.

***

What, in God's name, was Mark Sanford doing? He told his staff he was going to hike alone along the Appalachian Trail. He told his Lt. Governor that he'd be around. He told his wife nothing.

The truth? He was singing Next Stop, Buenos Aires with a lady friend.

Fred Sandford would never have been so duplicitous.

***

This morning, on the T, the guy standing next to me was humming Jingle Bells. It's been stuck in my head all day.

***

Jason Bay doesn't get the recognition that he deserves. The guy's been superb this year.

***

This is sad. But it did produce a hilarious headline.

Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

Iran is in the midst of turmoil over rigged elections. North Korea has nuclear capabilities. The economy shows little sign of recovery. Job-loss is at a generational low. More people are without health insurance than ever before.

And Margaret Talev of the world-renowned McClatchey news takes her opportunity to ask this of the leader of the free world:



I'm surprised she didn't opt for a Jeremiah Wright question.

I liked (and can completely identify with) the President's response. Although, if he wants to up his 95% cure rate, I'd suggest that he try the delicious Fruit Chill Nicorette. It tastes like Juicy Fruit.

I recently read in Richard Wolfe's excellent Obama biography Renegade, that the President's ciggies of choice are Malboro Reds (no Lights, Menthol, of Mediums for he). If I were advising the campaign last spring, I would have leaked out this info to refute the out-of-touch and snobby charges hurled at then-candidate Obama. Yes, he likes arugula, but he also smokes Reds!

In conclusion: More often than not, stupid questions deserve flippant answers. Well done, Mr. President.

If only.

As I only have about three months left as a twenty-something, the window on my buying (and wearing) ironic tee-shirts is quickly closing.

Therefore, I have to move quickly on buying a funny beach shirt. In the lead? This little number made popular by some inspired graffiti.

The shirt

The inspiration

My, my, my music hits me so hard.

Spinner.com has compiled a list of the top 25 best opening lyrics to songs. There are some real inspired choices including: Hello darkness, my old friend (The Sound of Silence -- S&G); What's with these homies dissin my girl (Buddy Holly -- Weezer); Tommy used to work on the docks (Livin' on a prayer -- Bon Jovi); and Hey, ho, let's go (Blitkrieg Bop -- the Ramones).

Coming in at number 1 is the opening salvo in Rick James' opus Superfreak: She's a very kinky girl. Somewhere, M.C. Hammer is thinking what could have been...

Needless to say, I am thinking about my own top fifteen. Only this time, I'm listing the top ten FINAL lyrics to songs (sometimes I list the final two lines). I welcome yours too, list them in the comments section.

15. And now I'm prayin for the end of time, so I can end my time with you. Paradise by the Dashboard Light, Meatloaf & Ellen Foley

14. Nel blu, dipinto di blu. Felice di stare lassu. Volare, Dean Martin

13. But try to understand, try to understand. I'm a magic man! Magic Man, Heart

12. I wish those days could come back once more. Why did those days ev-er have to go? I Wish, Stevie Wonder

11. And the county judge, who held a grudge will search for evermore. For the band on the run. Band on the Run, Wings

10. I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black. Yeah! Paint it Black, the Stones

9. Oh, the movie never ends. It goes on and on and on and on. Don't Stop Believin', Journey

8. Mental wounds not healing, who and what's to blame? I'm going off the trails on a crazy train. Crazy Train, Ozzy Osbourne

7. And somehow, I'll return again to you. I know you're out there somewhere, the Moody Blues

6. Shootin' at the walls of heartache, bang, bang, I am the warrior. Yes I am the warrior and victory is mine. The Warrior, Pat Benatar

5. He said you're sick, you're obscene. No more Mr. Nice Guy, Alice Cooper

4. I can see the day when my hair's full gray; And I finally disappear. One Particular Harbor, Jimmy Buffett

3. Im stuck on your heart, I hang on every word you say. Tear us apart, baby I would rather be dead, ooh youre the best! The Best, Tina Turner

2. Lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey, lovey-dovey all the time. Come on baby and Ill show you a good time. The Joker, Steve Miller Band

1. The record shows I took the blows. And did it my way! My Way, Frank Sinatra

Parkway Reunion: Be there!

This Saturday is the first annual Parkway Reunion. I've been working on this committee for the better part of a year and a half, and cannot wait.

People that grew up/moved to/currently live in/never left West Roxbury and Roslindale are invited to gather under the stars (well, tent, actually) on the grounds of West Roxbury High. Local Legends DJ Dave Solimine and the Richie Travers Orchestra will provide entertainment. Hors d’oeuvres will be served and a cash bar is available. Tickets are $25/ a piece and can be ordered in advance here.

I'm most looking forward to reuniting with old friends from Mt. Alvernia Academy, Parkway Little League, Roche Bros., The Fallon Field Crew, and, of course Parkway Latin alums.

Above all else, it will be a great opportunity to reconnect with old friends and make new ones. Please join me on Saturday night if you're native, newbie or supporter of Boston's vibrant neighborhoods. It promises to be an incredible night.

Pressing Questions of Our Time, Vol. 1

What, exactly, is Time for Timer? I initially assumed he was a hunk-a cheese; but now that seems to make no sense.

Regardless, Time for Timer entered my psyche today when I was explaining to some young colleagues how great PSA's were in the early 80's. They had never heard of him. Sad.