Boston - So Lame

Apparently, my city needs to spend less time being uppity and cold and more time watching adult oriented cartoon programming. According to CNN, two bridges and the entire Charles River were shut down because someone placed the equivalent of 10 Light Brites around the city. The displays were advertisements for Aqua Team Hunger Force and portrayed Mooninites (pictured). Somehow, this was seen as a threat.

Unclear in the article is how someone leapt from rude, alien pictogram to BOMB! but I'm more concerned by the realizations that:

1) Other cities were under the same "threat" and did not react as we did.
2) The pentagon became involved, but did not catch on right away.

I've never seen the show myself, but clearly an organization in charge of the welfare and safety of so many people ought to keep abreast. I suggest implementing a new cabinet position, Secretary of the Contemporary, to do just that. Write your congressman.

In the meantime, the Pentagon should get a few men training on this, just in case.

If I Had An Intern

We Have a Winner

In a feat of spontaneity, Kilgore hopped a bus to Harvard Yard Friday afternoon to attend Vericon's Monopoly tournament. I joined. Those Harvard kids put up a good fight, but clinging to the strategies he gleamed from his experience as an National Monopoly Champion Contestant Alternate, dominating the housing market and generally playing with no mercy, Kilgore secured for 34B yet another kudos in the gaming world.



Okay, so perhaps the competition was a bit lackluster. Maybe there were only a total of 6 people in the game. Still, conditions were far from ideal. It was 8 degrees outside for one. And the 300 pound man with the bald spot and fingernails filed into pointy daggers was certainly an intimidating distraction. You try not to break out laughing as they discuss the merits of their D20 and epic duels between Bobo Fett and Luke Skywalker. And as the giant Edward scissor hands was sure to point out, he'd won this game in this tournament by $3000 in the past. This was no gimme.

You may hear rumors that Kilgore was actually a co-champion, owing to the realization after more than an hour of 1 vs. 1 play that the two remaining contestants were, in fact, richer from repeatedly passing GO and no closer to bankruptcy.

In all honesty, Kilgore did dominate the houses, took the Harvard boys by complete surprise (they apparently never thought of buying up all the houses before) and should have won if just a single player had actually gone bankrupt on one of HIS properties.

Congrats.

A Teaser

Well, it was a good game even if the second half meltdown was a bit of a bummer. I hold no bitterness, however. I suspect a whole slew of New England fans will be rooting for Peyton to win the Superbowl.

Then, maybe, we'll never have to see that pouty lip of his again.

I'm home sick for the second day this week. Somewhere above me, a woman (so I've decided, though I have no proof) plays the same two songs over and over. She did the same yesterday. I might not mind if:

1. The songs weren't so darn loud.
2. The songs were any good at all.
3. There were more than 2 fricin' songs.

I thought about knocking on the door, but I feel like a foreigner (a band which would also be an improvement over what she's playing). I never hear the other apartments unless I'm home during the day, so it's like I'm the one being rude. Besides, if there's one thing Dion taught me, it's that confrontation can be avoided simply by proving your speakers go louder. And if all else fails, I can always cut her internet.

And now, just a little teaser from an idea I've been playing with in my sickly boredom.

Wisdom Wears Matching Green Polo Shirts

I overheard a brilliant conversation while in the grocery store buying tortillas for my end of the semester party (unlike most of my lame excuses for consuming large quantities of tacos, this was an actual party with actual other people and stuff). The Deli Guy was talking to the Butcher Woman (do you think they call me the Slacker Who Comes In At All Hours And Can't Possibly Have A Real Job . . . Guy?) about the upcoming Patriots vs. Colts AFC Championship. It should be a great game and I'm as excited as any other true blood New Englander that we get to beat Peyton on our way to another Superbowl, but their pre-game analysis left me, pathetically, looking forward to some Joe Buck's meandering, over-wrought diatribes.

DG: It should be a great game. It's always a great game when these two play.
BW: Yeah, it'll be good.
DG: Yeah, it will be good. Unless one of them blows the other out.
BW: Yeah, like you said, it will be a good game unless one of them gets blown out.
DG: Blow outs are no good. But this should be good.

Honest to God, I was frozen with a package of organically grown, all-flour, authentically faux-mexican tortillas in my hand trying to grasp the idea that if I ever wrote such a dialogue from my own head, the verisimilitude of my story would be tarred and feather in some public square.

In all fairness, it is not the job of Shaw's supermarket employees to provide brilliant insights in overheard conversations. And of course, they're right. It should be a good game.

Unless it's a blow out.

The Beginning of the End

Recently, I've become aware that a number of people have become "bloggers". These "blogs" have become the main mechanism by which I keep tabs on certain other persons' lives. I also realized that most blogs are created under the duress of a certain life altering event, i.e. the introduction of babies into the family unit. Not having any events of similiar importance to share, nothing "blog-worthty" one might say, I felt no previous draw to join the fray. But this blog thing might just catch on, especially if the internets do not crash and burn as I've so vehemently predicted. In that case, I want to reserve my spot now.

So begins the fluff.