Dancers stay young till the bottom falls out. Martha Graham moved like a forest nymph till she turned 80 or so. Then she started dancing drunk. Then she fell. But you know something? She still went home to a million-dollar brownstone and a Mondale fundraiser.

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Swing voter means overtly racist Protestant willing to vote Democrat in a recession. Swing sets kept so many children in my generation away from video games. Swinging couples deserve heart attacks.

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A tripped-out bum asked me how I was doing today, and I said, “Fine thanks, how are you?” He looked at me with daggers, like I was trying to be funny. I wasn’t. I have echolalia. That’s the condition where you throw out robotic responses no matter what the context. The American Psychological Association tells […]

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Best happy hour ballads for young professionals: Journey, “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Biggy Smalls, “Juicy.” The Boss, “Restless Nights.” The Journey track ’cause it makes you feel tragic. The Biggy track ’cause it makes you feel tough. The Boss track ’cause it makes you feel loved by every mark in the place, especially after several pitchers.

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Better internet connection on the commuter today, even though it’s raining cats and dogs. Gov. Patrick’s pouring some of that bond money into the cyber-bank. Good. Things do change. Love the state one day, hate it the next. Google the Democratic Leadership Council. Meat and Potatoes Statists. Cash mainly for textbooks and healthcare. The opera […]

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Pat Buchanan has severe balls. Give him that. Watching Recount on HBO last night, I saw that CNN clip where he said most of the Floridians who voted for him meant to vote for Gore. He’s a bigot, but he’s no machine pol. He lives and dies by popular sovereignty. If the voters want segregation, […]

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Private property is not theft, as our friend Chavez might suggest. Nor is it the summit of human achievement, as our friend Ron Paul might suggest. It’s just something else to do.

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Sam Beckett regularly drove Andre the Giant to elementary school. True story. Andre’s mom was some kind of bohemian in some kind of European country where they drink coffee and booze all night and eat small portions. Beckett volunteered to babysit for the little giant from time to time. He took him to school. I repeat, no […]

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This morning I’m at an Au Bon Pain. Au Bon Pain is not a hipster cafe. It’s an ex-hipster cafe for mommies in their mid-thirties who now run non-profits and only smoke pot at college reunions. Everyone appears to believe solidly in change. Everyone’s rude to the teenaged cashier who will soon become the hip […]

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Just overheard a chic at a hipster cafe say “let me re-evaluate” after learning they didn’t have the bagel sandwich she wanted. I’ll keep you posted on her final decision. I’ll continue live-blogging the quotidian. Also, the hipster cafe on Newbury St. just turned off its shitty scream music, which is good for everyone. At […]

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If you grew up in New England and don’t love Uncle Ted you’re a Nazi. If you don’t love Uncle Ted you don’t love second and third chances. You don’t love bagpipes. You don’t love pictures.

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As a child I’d go on these Easter Egg hunts with distant cousins at a bed n’ breakfast run by my great aunt. She’d hide the eggs in impossible-to-reach orifices for a suburb-slicker like me–under trees lining the top of her very steep hill in the back lot, beneath basement staircases cluttered with toolboxes and […]

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I’ve seen surfers in the East River. Usually Rikers guards on their lunch break. I’ve seen rodeo clowns on the T–usually heading to conventions in Government Center. I’ve seen interpretive dance in committee meetings  at the statehouse–usually during the pot hearings. I’ve seen pot at full-immersion baptisms down south–usually before the self-educated minister gets out […]

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Will Mugabe and the other guy form a dream ticket to avoid a run-off?  Have I missed the run-off? Have I done everything I can to ensure only the most violent offenders in our penal system are denied pay-per-view? Have I paid my dues long enough at the office to split a liquid lunch with the […]

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Baseball players have rock acts. Movie stars go in for post-punk. Basketball players rap over incredibly slow drum progressions. Among professional wrestlers who enjoyed their heyday during the Reagan administration, I’d imagine Sting of the now-defunct (one hopes) WCW could record some sleek indie rock if he wanted. He had that edge. He had that […]

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