I'm moving again...

Same name (Escargo-go), different host (Typepad). It's what I use for my workplace blog (Beyond Red & Blue), and it's easier to use the same host for both.

The War of the Omelets; the (kind of) return of Queer Nation

A couple of items that former Bostonians (who make up a big part of this blog's readership) might find interesting. First, the Somerville News reports on a feud between the owners of two brunch spots in the "best-run city" in Massachusetts, Sound Bites and the Ball Square Cafe. (Thanks to Universal Hub for pointing me to the story.) I've only been to Sound Bites, and the long lines are inexplicable to me. If I'm going to wait in the cold for brunch in Somerville, it's going to be at Johnny D's, where you can get catfish with your eggs as God intended. Second, Christopher Muther reports in the Boston Globe on the Guerrilla Queer Bar, a gay-and-lesbian group that secretly targets a different straight bar on the first Friday of each month and takes it over by sheer numbers. They've turned such places as Somerville's Burren Pub and Faneuil Hall's Bell-in-Hand Tavern into gay bars for a night. (The former, at least, is not exactly frosty toward gay patrons on any night.)

I am furious (yellow)

Things I Don't Miss: Slate.com has a history of the phone book, a practically obsolete item that refuses to go away quietly. Even before the Internet, I hated them for the space they took up in my small apartments. I felt like a philistine putting the Yellow Pages next to real books on bookshelves (what would be next, counting Banana Republic catalogs as reading material?), so they ended up in kitchen cabinets or underneath couches, about as unobtrusive as bricks of plutonium. Plus, as someone named Sullivan, I hate anything that's organized alphabetically. (You're not getting my business, AAA Pizza!) The managers of my new apartment building simply put a little sign in the lobby telling tenants that the new phone books were there if they wanted them. I hope that they all ended up in the trash, but I'll bet that if four tenants out of 200 asked for them, that would be enough to guarantee another full shipment next year.

Worst movie ever

Oh yeah, I have a blog. But I've been too busy with my day job and my other blog, not to mention In Treatment and Lost, to keep up with this one. I promise more soon, but for today check out this Joe Queenan essay on the worst movies of all time. My vote goes to Barbra Streisand's The Mirror Has Two Faces, which may be the last movie I paid for and then walked out on. The scene in which the "improved" Streisand sends a classroom full of college boys into a sexual frenzy is perhaps the most cringe-worthy moment I've ever witnessed on film or TV.

Rose Morgan: What, what? Yes, I have breasts. They cannot, however, be the subject of one of your papers.

Three cheers for the BoltBus!

The Boston Globe is reporting on a new, Greyhound-run bus service that will undercut the price of the Fung Wah and will offer one-way fares as low as $1.50. Great news for a fairly regular traveller to New York like me. I can now take the regular Greyhound for $20 ($5 more than Fung Wah) and not be bothered by loud college kids saving their money for drinking marathons.

Stupid spending: Everyone does it?

[Cross-posted from Beyond Red & Blue]

Elizabeth Kolbert writes in The New Yorker about all the ways we don't behave as rational consumers. According to "behavioral economists" (as opposed to the old-fashioned economists who believe that human beings are just calculators with arms and legs), we're constantly doing making dumb choices like paying an outrageous amont for a car just because it comes with "free" oil changes for a few years. Kolbert admits that she's padded Amazon.com orders with stuff she doesn't need in order to qualify for free shipping. I've done that, and I've also got a box full of subway fare cards from various cities because I always take the "buy five rides, get one free" kind of deal even when I know I won't be in the city long enough to use my free ride.

The public policy angle in Kolbert's piece comes with she discusses Richard H. Thaler and Cass R. Sunstein's Nudge: Improving Decisions About Wealth, Health, and Happiness. As Kolbert explains:

[People are] effort-averse. They hate having to go to the benefits office, pick up a bunch of forms, fill them out, and bring them all the way back. As a consequence, many eligible employees fail to enroll in their companies' retirement plans, or delay doing so for years. (This is the case, research has shown, even at companies where no employee contribution is required.)

Thaler and Sunstein suggest that companies enroll employees in retirement plans without their consent but give them the option of filling a lot of paperwork to get out. This point makes me think about the debate between Democratic presidential candidates over universal health insurance. Barack Obama seems to operating on the assumption that if insurance premiums are low enough, everyone will get health coverage because it will be irrational not to do so. And Hillary Clinton's idea to require all individuals to get health coverage seems to rest on the assumption that it would be irrational not to get insurance if there's a penalty (a tax fine, or the garnishing of wages) for failing to do so. But maybe the best approach would be to automatically enroll all uninsured people into a health insurance plan and then say, "If you don't like it, there's a long, complicated procedure for withdrawing from the program." In other words, there would be a de facto mandate, but without the need to come up with a mechanism to enforce it.

What is public TV good for?

The New York Times's Charles McGrath asks whether public TV is worth saving:

The average PBS show on prime time now scores about a 1.4 Nielsen rating, or roughly what the wrestling show “Friday Night Smackdown” gets....

Scanning the PBS lineup, in fact, it’s hard to detect much of a bias toward anything at all, except possibly mustiness. Except for “Antiques Roadshow,” all the prime-time stalwarts — “The NewsHour,” “Nova,” “Nature,” “Masterpiece” — are into their third or fourth decade, and they look it.

If those comments distress you, go to the reader comments, where you'll find plenty of hyperventilating ("In the wasteland of television there are but two channels I want or need: PBS for the quality and depth of shows that exist nowhere else, and NESN to be able to watch the Red Sox."), and it's entirely possible that one or two of the respondents are under 80 years old.

OK, if you don't have cable, you might enjoy being force-fed middlebrow programming by PBS. And even if you have 300 channels, I'm not aware that any of them caters to people with terrible taste in music the way PBS does. Otherwise, its bright spots are so few that it's easier just to forget it exists.

Breaking news: Suzanne Pleshette is still dead!

Dear Boston.com and Boston Globe:

Yes, I know that Suzanne Pleshette is dead. Please stop using her photo as an enticement to "Take a look back at the notable deaths of this young year" every time I look at anything on your website. (Scroll to the bottom of the home page or look in the right column of just about every Globe story. I'll be happy if this is no longer the case by the time you read this.) I'll wait until the end of the year (and the roll call of the dead at the Oscar awards) to contemplate my mortality. I don't need to perform this ritual every morning beginning on Valentine's Day. Thank you.

London fog

Thanks to Hub Blog for pointing me to this story about dumb Britons who think that Winston Churchill was a fictitious character but that Sherlock Holmes was a real person. It's fun to read about stupidity in other lands, though I am suspicious of the poll that the story is based on. I mean, if someone with a clipboard stopped me in Downtown Crossing and quizzed me, I think it would be great fun to say that the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" was reportage but that Gandhi was a work of science fiction. If I were especially playful, I'd even claim that Lyndon LaRouche actually exists.

Revival of independent bookstores?

Will the Internet kill off chain bookstores and leave the independent sellers to flourish? Matthew Yglesias mulls the possibility.

...what the brick and mortar store has to offer is, increasingly, not practical advantage but a bookstore experience. And though I think the chains actually do deliver a decent experience, they don't really match the better independents and I'm not sure they ever can since part of the experience of a well-liked independent bookstore...

A nice thought, but I'm not sure that an independent bookstore is enough of an anchor for an urban shopping district. The seemingly most successful independent booksellers in the Boston area -- the Brookline Booksmith in Coolidge Corner and the Harvard Bookstore in Harvard Square -- are both near larger bookstores (a Barnes and Noble and the university-run Harvard Coop) and movie theaters. Could they attract enough customers if the Internet claims other businesses around them?

There Will Be Deadwood

Maybe three or four times a year I'll go out to a movie. This weekend There Will Be Blood made the coveted short list of films I'll see even if it means associating with other people. Imagine my joy when the central character in the movie, an oil-drilling entrepreneur played by Daniel Day-Lewis, has a long speech about how he hates every other person on in the world! He drinks their milkshakes, in case you haven't heard. Not only was it a great movie, there were similarities with one of my three or four favorite TV series, Deadwood. The second and third seasons of that show also feature a character (mining magnate George Hearst) who has a long speech about his own misanthropy, and how he views other people as pests to be swatted away while he "listens to the earth." If you like one, you should like the other. That is, unless your favorite part of Deadwood is the assortment of stong, distinctive female characters. Not much of that in There Will Be Blood.

Wintertime fun in Montreal for those who hate snow

Today there's a scavenger hunt in the Underground City. Alas, the list of items is not available to nonparticipants. I assume that it includes insanely specific descriptions of napkins and straws from the hundreds of subterranean fast-food places, but maybe you also get points for finding abandoned hats, gloves, and half-eaten bowls of poutine. There probably isn't a prize for finding a forgotten man (un homme oublie), but there's sure to be a few of those hanging out down there. Is anyone up for organizing a scavenger hunt in Boston's tiny version of an enclosed city (i.e., Copley Place and the Prudential Mall)? I'd love to see people encouraged to steal those damn TV monitors who sole purpose seems to be plugging bad shows on CBS.

Do one-way streets kill cities?

In a Louisville Courier-Journal op-ed, Matt Hanka and John Gilderbloom say that one-way streets are bad for pedestrians (because cars go faster on them), bad for businesses (fewer potential customers go by), and bad for homeowners (because they lower property values). They also say that one-ways can cause more crime:

One-way streets also create greater opportunities for crime in urban areas. Having one-way traffic reduces overall use, allowing for negative vacuums to be created. One-way streets are the gun, drug and sex distribution centers for a city.

Why? You need a two- or three-lane one-way street where you can pause to negotiate the deal and get out of there quickly. You can't do that on a two-way street because it slows down traffic. That's why the one-way two/three-lane street works best for pimps, drive-by shootings and drug dealers. If you break the law, it's better to drive 50 mph on a one-way with no obstacles.

I now live on a one-way street, and I don't feel unsafe (maybe because it's not a throughway), but the lack of activity at night is a bit spooky. And the two things I remember from several trips to downtown Lynn were that the place was practically deserted and that almost every street seemed to be one-way. Then again, one-way streets don't seem to put a damper on life in New York City.

Book-CD-DVD-tchotchke-store bans browsing

Yesterday at lunch hour I discovered that the downtown Borders store had put all their television DVDs in locked glass cabinets. That means that if I want to peruse the box for the first season of That Girl, I need to share my shame with the nearest employee who has a key. And I can't grab Are You Being Served? and immediately sandwich it between The Sopranos and The Wire in case someone spots me as I scurry to the checkout. Score one for Amazon.com.

Election Day in Malden Center

I voted this morning, despite the rain, and the only person in front of me was an older woman who didn't understand what the even older poll worker was asking her. ("A dress?" "Yes, address!" "I don't understand. My dress?") I got my ballot, voted for president, and ignored the other stuff on the ballot. As I recall, I was supposed to choose "no more than 35" party committee members and there were only about 12 names on the ballot. Then I fed the ballot into the electronic scanner and worried that my vote won't be counted because I colored outside of the lines of the oval next to my candidate's name. It was all very stressful, and I'm glad I don't have to do it again in the fall, thanks to the Electoral Collage making all votes cast in Massachusetts meaningless.

Patriots lose. HA-ha!

Sorry to get all Nelson Muntz about the Patriots losing the Super Bowl, but I can't take another victory parade trapping me inside my office building. The first time they won, I had a doctor's appointment scheduled on the morning of their parade, and when I went back to the office, I made the mistake of exiting Park Street station through a turnstile that wouldn't let me back in. Too late, I saw that Tremont Street was a solid, if rather doughy, mass of Patriots fans. I had to squeeze my way through the crowd and take refuge in the nearest building (it was cold that that February!), which was the St. Paul Episcopal Church. The church let people in the front door but wouldn't let anyone all the way through the building to escape out the back door (bastards!). So I spent about an hour and a half hiding in there while the Pats fans went nuts. I felt as if I were hiding from a sudden political revolution, hoping that whichever side won didn't have a problem with the church I had joined that day out of pure cowardice. So I hope the Pats lose again next year! It's OK if the Red Sox win the World Series again, though.

"Lost" vs. the presidential debate

I watched both last night. The Clinton/Obama showdown tried the patience of the most dedicated policy wonk -- at least in the first half hour, which was all about the minor differences between the two candidates' health insurance plans. So it was a treat to move to Lost afterward, and I was never so happy to be shelling out the extra 12 bucks a month for a DVR. How did I sit through all those commercials back in 2007? As I flew past the chaff with my thumb on the fast-forward button, I noticed that ABC was relentlessly pushing a new show that was premiering after Lost. Remember when a TV network could force a show into becoming a hit by scheduling it after another hit? Yeah, I don't miss that either. No doubt half the people watching Lost live immediately logged on their computers afterward to check the message boards anyway. Good luck, dumb-looking new ABC show! Anyway, Lost is all about the flash-forwards now, which reassures me that the producers actually have some thoughts on how they're going to end this thing in 2010. They're also making it impossible to kill off certain characters before then, which makes me wonder if ABC is assigning bodyguards, chauffeurs, and food tasters to certain cast members.

I've been forced to wake up and smell the coffee

I guess I'm never going to get an alternative to the two Dunkin' Donuts in my neighborhood. From the AP:

As part of a broad push to revitalize its business, the company said it plans to open about 425 fewer domestic stores and 75 more overseas than previously planned, for a global total of 2,150 new stores. Starbucks has more than 15,700 worldwide.

...the slowdown in U.S. growth will allow the company to make better use of its time, money and staff and could reduce "cannibalization" — easing pressure some stores experience when a new one opens nearby.

So open some stores that aren't near other ones!

TV diary: better Treatment

HBO's In Treatment -- which is trying to become the first scripted late-night sensation since, I don't know, Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman in the 1970s? -- got a bit more absorbing last night with the introduction of Wednesday regular patient Sophie, a teenager sent to therapy because of suspicions that her bizarre accidents are actually the result of suicidal tendencies. The first session between a shrink and patient is one of the most worn-out situations in TV and movies, as Tuesday's In Treatment episode with Blair Underwood showed. The patient is always skeptical and even contemptuous of the therapist, who calmly accepts the hostile comments and finally throws out a question that puts a dent in the patient's armor -- just before saying, "I'm sorry, but our time is up." Doesn't anyone on TV ever go into therapy expecting to get some good out of it? But at least Sophie (Mia Wasikowska) was amusingly hostile, peppering the therapist played by Gabriel Byrne with questions such as "Are you this much of a pain in the ass with your daughter?" and "Why can't you just act like a professional?" Maybe the cliche works better with teenagers, who naturally like to test authority figures, rather than adults like Underwood's character. At any rate, hump day seems to be the best day for this series so far.

Attack of the 60-foot Oscar winner

The T now has two recorded announcements before a train pulls into a station. One says that "the next Orange [or whatever color] Line train is now approaching," and about 15 seconds later we get "the next Orange Line train is now arriving." I don't know the purpose of having dual announcements. The "approaching" one sounds like a warning. ("The next gigantic reptile is now approaching, and he's hungry!") So I find myself cringing a bit when I hear that the beast is "now arriving," giving us no time to run for our lives. At least I know longer think of a good friend's impersonation of Katherine Hepburn when I'm on a subway platform. He likes to portray the linguistically proper New Englander at the moment of maximum sexual excitement: "Oh, Spencer! I'm arriving! I'm arriving!"

A smear against Blue Man Group?

From Boing Boing: A guy in Chicago is suing performance artists Blue Man Group, claiming that they dragged him on stage during a show and forced an "esophagus camera" down his throat while he struggled to break free. Sounds like an absurd claim to me, and he apparently has no witnesses, but a local TV station plays it down the middle (see written report and video). If a local newscast isn't able to offer some clarification on whether it's safe to go to the theater without the protection of a hockey mask, I don't think I trust its weather reports either.

When we get behind closed doors...

Last night HBO premiered the half-hour drama In Treatment, which will run five nights a week for nine weeks, with each episode depicting a therapy session in almost-real time (one character every Monday night, another every Tuesday night, etc.). Based on the first episode, I'm willing to commit, mainly because of Gabriel Byrne as the therapist and because the premise, borrowed from a highly successful TV show in Israel, is intriguing -- even though Monday's patient isn't very interesting so far. One moment I did like: At the end, when the patient runs out of the office in great distress, Byrne starts to follow her but stops short at his own door, as if he's afraid to cross the threshold. Is he a prisoner of his profession? It struck me that most of my favorite TV series show what goes on behind closed doors. The Sopranos, of course, also had the voyeuristic appeal of letting us spy on therapy sessions, and the The Wire lets us see what happens behind the scenes not only in a police department but in a big-city mayor's office and, now, in the offices of a major daily newspaper. That may be why I don't care for reality shows (it's not voyeurism if the participants are actually performing for the camera) or sci-fi series (in an entirely fabricated universe, there's not as much tension between the scenes set in public and those set behind closed doors). And this might explain why, given my druthers, I'll take a movie or TV series with a lot of sex (private) over a lot of violence (well, at least garishly public violence like shoot-outs and car chases). But maybe we all have our own kinks and perversions to explain our TV-watching habits.

I'll let you open my junk mail for only $10!

I'm practically giving away good changes and heart's desires!

But what do I know about politics?

This is one of the more surreal presidential election campaigns I've ever experienced for several reasons, but one that really puzzles me is that I seem to have gained a reputation as a naive dunce who doesn't know the first thing about politics. I memorized Electoral Collage stats before I had ever heard of the World Series, I began campaigning for presidential candidates when I was in high school, and I've been writing about politics for 20 years. But this year friends and relatives have been shaking their heads sadly in disbelief when I share my perceptions of the candidates. The popular consensus is that all politicians are irredeemably corrupt, intellectually dishonest, and completely self-serving, with only minor differences in degree, and only a fool would think otherwise. I'd certainly apply that description to most politicians, but I think it's illogical to believe that the election process never attracts anyone with any integrity. I mean, it's not that hard to get on the ballot; a few people must do it without selling their souls to Satan. Experts on a particular subject are often wrong, of course. Tremendously well-informed people got us into Vietnam, ignored warnings about terrorism before 9/11, and have repeatedly guessed wrong about the stock market. The best doctors make misdiagnoses, and the best chefs use too much garlic. People in ivory towers can know everything about global warning and not have enough sense roll up their car windows in a rainstorm. So I'm not arrogant enough to claim that my political opinions are always right. In retrospect, I can think of plenty of times that I've chosen the wrong candidate, whether for president or for school board member, and I'm sure that I'll keep making bad choices. But one thing that I have learned over the years as a journalist is that politicians do not all have the same character. If I can offer just one idea as an expert, it's that saying "they're all the same" is not a sign of cynicism. Instead, it's the most naive attitude of all.

Fears of a clown

A British think tank finds that kids hate clowns, particularly in hospitals:

"From children's perspectives," the researchers explain, "the babyish feel of hospital décor is something that child patients between seven and 16 tolerated, rather than appreciated." Interestingly, all children disliked the use of clowns in the décor, with even the oldest children seeing them as scary. "Given that children and young people do not find hospitals frightening per se -- and only express fear about those spaces associated with needles and associated procedures -- ­ this finding is somewhat ironic," Dr. Curtis points out.

My theory is that this is part of the mainstreaming of gay culture, as bad drag queens tend to look like clowns. They may be fun when it's late and you've had a few drinks, but they're not exactly comforting under harsh lighting and the looming threat of a tonsillectomy. Clown wallpaper may be especially alarming to young boys, who must contemplate tucking before they're mature enough to handle it. Construction workers, policemen, and American Indians would be far better images for children's ward wallpaper.

Fear the wrath of downtown Malden's Christmas lights

When the the city of Malden turned on these lights at the beginning of the holiday season, I assumed that I was looking at a giant ribbon. But since they're still on a month after Christmas, I see that I was wrong. The lights are supposed to represent a giant angry eagle in flight, about to swoop down and gobble up pedestrians (much as the rooftop sunbathers were snatched up in the film classic Q).

Where Shih Tzus rule

The American Kennel Club lists the top 10 dog breeds in the US and in the 50 biggest cities. Shih Tzus are relatively big in Las Vegas (the toy dogs do look like something designed by Liberace), Salt Lake City, and Washington, DC. San Francisco likes poodles and bulldogs, which doesn't exactly dispel sexual stereotypes. New York City is a haven for dachsunds (you do need a dog who can run between legs there), and blue-collar Baltimore welcomes pugs. Rottweilers are popular in the tough towns Chicago, Detroit, and Miami. Something called the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel is a contender in Atlanta, Dallas, and Honolulu. I don't see dalmatians, collies, or Jack Russell terriers on any of the cities' list, despite their advantages in being all over movie and TV screens. (See 101 Dalmations, the TV show Frasier, etc.) I guess no one wants a potential prima donna as a pet.

Gays for Hillary, journalists for Barack

I'm falling behind on my TV watching, and just about every other activity, as I read everything I can about the presidential campaign. I'm struck by the schism between my gay acquaintances and my colleagues in journalism and publishing. The former group is almost unanimous in its praise of Hillary Clinton, saying that her hardball politics is a sign that she'd be able to win a general election and be a effective president, maintaining an upper hand over Congress. But most journalists I've discussed the race with are more favorably disposed toward Barack Obama, saying that his thoughtful and conciliatory speeches suggest that he'd be better able to bridge the red vs. blue divide in the United States, and that his better relations with the press indicate that he'd have a more open and transparent governing style than either Clinton or the current president. See today's Globe column by Scot Lehigh to get a feel for how many journalists, left and right, view the Clinton campaign. As there are more gay people than journalists in the US, I get the feeling that Clinton will wrap up the nomination on February 5 regardless of what she says or does before then.

The Clintons meet the Klingons

Hmm... I watched the Democratic presidential debate tonight, and if the polls are correct I'll have no problem staying nonpartisan for the general election. I expect that any damn I might give for who wins will be eliminated on February 5. In other TV news, I've been catching up on shows I've never or rarely seen in order to come up with a "best" list. Without a Trace is pretty bad, based on the episode I just saw -- which followed the Murder, She Wrote rule that any guest actor who gained fame as a sympathetic character (in this case, Chad Lowe from Life Goes On) is going to have a juicy confession scene. But the original CSI is easier to take, going from the few episodes I saw over the long weekend. Less preachy than Law and Order, less melodramatic than Without a Trace. The original Star Trek is as silly as I remembered it. I can't get over everyone in the universe speaking English.

"The Wire" moves to Mayberry

The Wire, which is now No. 12 with a staple gun on my in-progress list of Top 100 TV shows, has become more accessible to casual viewers, thanks to the addition of a laugh track. Radosh.net has a sneak preview. Of course, when Bunk accidentally locked himself and McNulty into "the box" this weekend, it was an obvious homage to Barney Fife repeatedly locking himself and Andy into a jail cell on The Andy Griffith Show. I can't wait to see The Wire's equivalent to Opie start earning some money on the corner.

A blogger's wet dream

A few days ago I revealed what print journalists dream about. Last night I found out what causes nocturnal bliss for a blogger. I dreamed that I went to a popular pizza/sandwich shop for lunch and ordered some kind of pasta that came with a choice of side dish. The guy behind the counter, without asking me, started to put a green salad on my plate, and I interrupted him with "I don't like that salad, I want the steamed vegetables." Twelve or twenty minutes go by (who knows in a dream?) and I realize that people have been moving past me in the line while my plate of food sits on the counter unattended. I finally say something to the guy at the cash register, and he says, "Oh, we decided not to serve you because you said something negative about our salad in front of the other customers." I'm shocked, and I ask, "You weren't even going to tell me? You would have let me stand here forever if I didn't ask what's going on?" "That's right," the guy says with a sneer. I'm outraged by this treatment, and by the fact that my lunch hour is over and I haven't eaten anything, but as I leave the restaurant I'm suddenly cheered. I'll blog about the incident! They'll be sorry they mistreated me when hundreds -- no, thousands of potential customers read my blog and decide to boycott the restaurant. In fact, my post about Panacea Pizza, or whatever it's called, will bring thousands -- no, a couple hundred thousand new readers to my blog. And one day, I'll walk back into the restaurant showing them my stats. They'll be mystified because none of them of heard of the Internet, but in some dim way they'll realize that I had something to do with their descent into bankruptcy. Sadly, I woke up before I could take my revenge. But I've always believed in dreams as a guide to behavior, so I guess I'll have to start looking for abusive pizzeria staff in order to write the greatest bitchy blog post ever. Suggestions welcome.

Michigan primary aftermath

See my thoughts on the plight of the independent voter at Beyond Red & Blue.

Nightmares in Helvetica

A lot of people dream about their jobs, according to an unsurprising survey conducted by Staples. (Click here for psychoblather about the topic.) I can't imagine how anyone could avoid dreaming about his or her job. I dream about pretty much anything that I spent more than 20 minutes doing the previous day. This means that I have a lot of nocturnal thoughts about riding trains that may not have anything to do with sex. (Sometimes a tunnel is just a tunnel.) And if I scrub my kitchen sink during the day, I'm sure to have thoughts involving rubber gloves and Comet that night. More common are my dreams of Excel spreadsheets, coming after a day of entering data at work. And then there is my recurring dream in which the magazine that I co-edit comes back from the printer riddled with typographical errors: misspellings, missing punctuation, and more widows and orphans than the complete works of Dickens. Sometimes my dream self will foolishly hope that no one notices the awful carnage, but even then I'm gripped by the fear of discovery. Is this how Tony Soprano spends his nights? PS: Journalism fans should be sure to catch the last season of The Wire, now running on HBO. In one episode, the city editor of the Baltimore Sun wakes up in the middle of the night, suddenly fearful that he transposed some numbers in a story about shipping traffic in the city's harbor. (As it turns out, he hadn't made any mistakes.) Welcome to my nightmare!

But I've lived here my whole life!

I like to start off the week with a laugh, and Kevin Cullen's column in the Boston Globe today was just the trick. It's about a Charlestown native smart enough to buy a four-story brick house near Bunker Hill for a pittance ($16,500!) in 1963. Her tragedy? Someone is building another house next door:

She is 74 now, and still works as a flight attendant. She expected to enjoy her later years in the house at Monument Square. Instead she is locked in the latest battle of Bunker Hill. When she looks out the back window that for 45 years afforded a view of the city skyline, she sees the house Bill Pizzurro is building.

Doesn't that SOB realize that paying $16,500 for a house entitles you to keep the same view from each window for 50 years? If you don't think so, wait until the poor woman brings out the ultimate Boston argument:

"I've lived in this town my whole life," Pat Ward said. "I've seen them all come and go. When I was a kid, it was the absentee landlords. Then the BRA. Then it was the condo flippers. Now it's these guys filling in every open space. They make money but they don't have to live with what they do."

I've lived in this town my whole life. If only I had the foresight never to move a mile from my parents' house, I'd be on the right side of every debate over development in my neighborhood. Sadly, I made the mistake of seeing a little bit more of the world (well, a little bit more of the East Coast), which makes me an interloper anywhere I choose to live in Massachusetts.

According to Cullen's column, the builder of the new house has told Pat Ward to buzz off, and she doesn't seem to have legal grounds to prevent him from going ahead with construction. I guess we're supposed to feel sorry for her, but how many of us expect to live in the same house, in an unchanging neighborhood, for a half-century? Hey Pat: Just sell your house, take the money, and run!

Are you having 100 laughs?

Another Top 100 list, this time of the supposed funniest movies of all time, courtesy of the Chlotrudis Society for Independent Film. I've copied the list below with my own opinion in code: ** Deserves to be on the list. * Overrated but defensible. ! Undeserving. ? I haven't seen it or have seen it so long ago I forget how much I laughed. 01. Monty Python & the Holy Grail (1975) ** 02. Young Frankenstein (1974) ** 03. This is Spinal Tap (1984) ** 04. Some Like it Hot (1958) ** 05. Bringing Up Baby (1938) ** 06. Airplane! (1980) ** 07. Annie Hall (1977) ** 08. Dr. Strangelove (1964) ** 09. Groundhog Day (1993) ** 10. The Princess Bride (1987) ? 11. A Fish Called Wanda (1988) * 12. Pee Wee's Big Adventure (1985) ** 13. The Big Lebowski (1998) ? 14. South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut (1999) ** 15. Best in Show (2000) * 16. Blazing Saddles (1974) * 17. Animal Crackers (1930) * 18. The 40-Year-Old Virgin (2005) * 19. Duck Soup (1933) ** 20. Little Miss Sunshine (2006) ! 21. Lost in America (1985) * 22. Fargo (1996) * 23. Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988) ** 24. The Producers (1968) * 25. O Brother Where Art Thou? (2000) * 26. His Girl Friday (1940) ** 27. Hairspray (1988) ? 28. The In-Laws (1979) * 29. Mystery Science Theater 2000 - The Movie (1996) ? 30. The Christmas Story (1983) ** 31. Richard Pryor Live on Sunset Strip! (1982) ** 32. The General (1927) ** 33. Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986) * 34. Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988) * 35. Happiness (1998) * 36. Election (1999) ** 37. It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World (1963) * 38. Pink Flamingos (1972) ? 39. Flirting with Disaster (1996) ? 40. Nine to Five (1980) ! 41. The Muppet Movie (1979) ? 42. Office Space (1999) ! 43. The Ladykillers (1955) ** 44. Victor/Victoria (1982) * 45. Juno (2007) ? 46. There's Something About Mary (1998) ? 47. Modern Times (1936) ** 48. The Fabulous Destiny of Amélie Poulain (2001) ** 49. Animal House (1978) * 50. Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928) ** 51. The Philadelphia Story (1940) ** 52. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (1988) ? 53. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) ? 54. Noises Off (1992) ? 55. Wallace & Gromit in the Case of the Were-Rabbit (2005) ? 56. Auntie Mame (1958) * 57. La Cage Aux Folles (1978) ? 58. The Tall Guy (1989) ? 59. Raising Arizona (1987) * 60. Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan (2006) ** 61. Old School (2003) ? 62. City Lights (1931) ** 63. Monty Python's The Life of Brian (1979) * 64. What's Up Doc? (1972) * 65. Bedazzled (1967) ? 66. When Harry Met Sally... (1989) ? 67. Chicken Run (2000) ? 68. Defending Your Life (1991) ? 69. To Die For (1995) ** 70. Ghostbusters (1984) ! 71. Waiting for Guffman (1996) ** 72. Arthur (1981) ! 73. Sleeper (1973) * 74. The Jerk (1979) ? 75. School of Rock (2003) ? 76. The Thin Man (1934) ** 77. Clerks II (2006) * 78. Help! (1965) * 79. Chasing Amy (1997) ? 80. Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989) ? 81. The Blues Brothers (1980) ! 82. Bad Santa (2003) ? 83. Monkey Business (1952) * 84. All of Me (1984) * 85. Start the Revolution Without Me (1970) * 86. Love and Death (1975) ** 87. The Palm Beach Story (1942) ** 88. Midnight (1939) ? 89. Beetlejuice (1988) * 90. The Saddest Music in the World (2003) ? 91. Miracle at Morgan Creek (1944) * 92. My Man Godfrey (1936) ** 93. Born Yesterday (1950) ** 94. Clue (1985) ! 94. Arsenic and Old Lace (1944) * 96. Les Comperes (1983) ? 97. Risky Business (1983) * 98. The Bank Dick (1940) * 99. Walking & Talking (1996) ? 100. The Unbelievable Truth (1989) ?

I want more than a jewel case!

Today's Boston Globe has another story about how CDs have become more unpopular than the clap. "New year brings new challenges for recording industry," written by AP reporter ALex Veiga, also reminds us that newspapers have got a lot of new challenges -- such as better headlines. Veiga says that the music industry is hoping to turn things around with "experimentation":

Music fans are also likely to see ... more albums pre-loaded onto small, portable storage devices. Consumers may also see a bigger push this year for CD singles, dubbed "ringles," that include mobile phone ringtones and other digital content...

Hey, here's another idea. Why not package CDs with liner notes or, better yet, booklets with lyrics and information about the music we're listening to? Maybe something equivalent to the director's commentary on DVDs? One reason I stopped buying CDs was that I got sick of shelling out $15 for a compilation disc (often of jazz performers) and finding nothing inside that told me when tracks were recorded, who played on particular songs, etc. It seemed foolish to buy CDs when I got nothing more for my money than if I downloaded songs from iTunes. (Actually, I got less, since CDs take up valuable space in my apartment.)

Sorry, I'll take a pass on those ringles.

The start of a wonderful or terrible new year

Happy new year to my six readers! Sorry for the lack of posts, but I've been: --Putting the latest issue of CommonWealth magazine to bed, and then having nightmares about finding typos all over the finished product. --Getting my Christmas shopping done in one day. --Going to New York for a party and to see a play by this new comic named Mark Twain. --Getting obsessed over the 2008 presidential race and tonight's Iowa caucuses. (Sorry, my day job doesn't allow me to post my preferences.) More to come soon, but in the meantime, television fans should check out this great list of the top 100 series of all time, with plenty of video clips and trivia to go along with the well-reasoned arguments for each show. I have been working on my own top 100; right now, 47 are also on the South Dakota Dark list.

The gift of gluttony

Blogging may be light over the next two weeks, as I'll be trying to copy-edit a 100-page magazine (and write some of it) while eating, sleeping, washing clothes, and reading 1000 blogs on a fairly regular schedule. Another chore at this time of year is holiday (do your worst to me, Bill O'Reilly!) shopping. Along those lines, I recommend this Slate.com posting on the madness of "gift cards." Some are better than others (Starbucks is OK because I can just buy friends coffee until the card runs out), but in general gift cards are just cash with strings attached. ("No, you may NOT spend this at Liquor Land! Get some school supplies at Staples!") Gift cards do have the advantage of not taking up a lot of room in a small apartment. But the best gifts are in the food-and-drink category. Anything edible or drinkable isn't going to hang around my apartment for too long. If I don't like it, I'll serve it to a visitor, and if none of my friends like it, I'll bring it to the office.

The shocking truth about the Orange Line

I believe that man landed on the moon, that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, and that Marisa Tomei won an Academy Award fair and square for My Cousin Vinny. But I don't believe that any "signal repair" work is being done on the Orange Line this weekend. Or that there's any good reason for substituting buses for subway trains from Malden to Boston, as the T has done for all but three weekends since I moved to Malden three months ago. Or that there's any legitimate reason for "diversions" of service on the Orange Line to last almost four years so far. I could have single-handedly laid down completely new tracks from Haymarket to Oak Grove in less time. Alas, the MBTA's award-winning Web site doesn't explain why a "fully functional state-of-the-art signal system" should take so long to install. Can we at least get some diagrams on there? If the problem is giant rats undoing most of the day's work after quitting time, I would gladly pay a little extra for my Charlie Card if the T could post a graphic novel about the subterranean battle between orange-vested public employees and rogue rodents. Crocodiles would be good, too. An alternative explanation is that we Orange Line prisoners are unknowlingly dealing with something like this, as reported last month by the Metro:

In the past two months, commuter rail employees have been participating in a covert “working strike” — holding up service and causing significant train delays — in retaliation for what they consider poor treatment by management, according to sources who spoke to Metro.

Conductors and engineers have been refusing to work overtime when the commuter rail is short staffed, or operate trains when there are minor maintenance issues, like a burned out bulb, in order to stick it to their employer — the Massachusetts Bay Commuter Railroad — the company contracted by the T to run the commuter rail, a source told Metro.

Furniture bars

One friend has explained to me that the men who once went to gay bars are now spending all their time at Home Depot and Crate & Barrel. I guess the advantage is that you can see whether a guy clashes with your couch before you take him home.

A good face for radio

I'm scheduled to appear on Michelangelo Signorile's satellite radio show this afternoon at 3:30 to talk about my article on the disappearance of gay bars. I've been warned that Signorile can be a provocative interviewer, but at least I don't have to worry about being outed. I do hope, however, that he hasn't come across my kindergarten essay on how I want to be president someday. I haven't been very good at following up on that.

Straight fan of gay bar

Thanks for all the feedback on "Last Call," my Boston Globe piece on the decline of the gay bar. Erik Lindgren, from the group