This amused me.
This amused me.
Well. April 15th is another day that it seems like so many things happened throughout history. And for the most part, it seems like it has been a date on which a lot of truly tragic things happened. Honestly, I can only think of one really cool thing that happened on this date: it was the day that Jackie Robinson first debuted with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. And as big a fan of baseball as I am, and as happy as I am about how far my favorite sport has come since that time, I can’t help but contrast that event with all the other terrible, tragic things that have happened on this day.
Of course, the most immediate thing for me is that this is the 3rd anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombing. Hard to believe it has already been three years. But I am glad that Boston had really come together and bounced back.
Although Seth Myers is not from Boston, he did spend a big chunk of his childhood nearby in New Hampshire. And as a result, he totally gets the whole “Hollywood can’t get the Boston accent right” thing. Admittedly, there have been times that I am watching a movie or a TV show set in Boston and the bad attempts at local accents really get to me – not to mention the brutally mispronounced names of Massachusetts cities and towns – (I am looking at you, Falling Skies).
So seeing this “trailer” was a real treat. He totally gets it.
And the cameo from Rachel Dratch is just… wicked awesome.
After the post I wrote most recently and some discussions I’ve had with people in various parts of my life, I’ve run across a fair number of people who seem to think that this schedule I’ve been living, this logging of 60-70 hours of work a week, minimum, is fun. That I do it because I like it and that somehow I’m not aware that it is inherently bad for me.
They are so, SO very wrong. But they refuse to understand that this has been a matter of survival. This has been the way that I’ve adapted to keep us afloat and alive and not living on the streets. So few people truly understand that our economy here in the US has fundamentally changed. Geoff and I are living proof that the old way, each having one job, having some security in that job, buying a house, and then eventually retiring just isn’t the way things work anymore.
To some extent, the same is true after Snowpocalypseageddon here in Greater Boston. Everyone has already fought for the last loaf of bread or gallon of milk, so the next thing to fight over is parking spots. And boy, do people get medieval about those.
The Cambridge City Council has voted in a policy order to make known that they are opposed to the 2024 Boston Olympic bid. I get the impression that no one in the group to bring the 2024 Olympics to Boston thought to discuss their plan with surrounding communities to feel the waters, so to speak.
I cannot believe that any serious person would think that hosting the 2024 Olympics here in Boston is a good idea. And with such a relatively small window to prepare, it is quite unrealistic. In fact, it is hands down one of the dumbest ideas I have heard put forth in a long time.
Where would we put it all?
Yes, I know Kelly has talked about this already, but I have to throw in my own two cents worth, because this is something that has actually gotten me quite a bit fired up and angry. It is yet another case of the privileged few dictating to everyone else.
Anyone who isn’t a moneyed plutocrat in the very tiny ruling elite here in Boston – Marty Walsh, John Fish, Charlie Baker, and Shirley Leung, I’m looking at you – likely understands that yesterday’s announcement that Boston “won” the USOC nomination for the 2024 olympics is a Very Bad Thing. The Boston 2024 group has existed for about a year and, chaired by Fish, has been trying to essentially shame the populace into believing that if we do not do this thing, invite the world to come here for a 3 week-long party 9 years from now, we’re provincial losers and that Boston isn’t fit for the world stage.
To put it bluntly, the people at Boston2024 are liars.
I’ll tell you right up front as I start this that I’m as much of a fan of First Night here in Boston as I am of the 4th of July. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say that I hate the crowds and accompanying stupidity for both just as much, but what the 4th stands for matters more to me. And, I’ve never been able to figure out why they call the celebration of the last night of the year First Night.
Anyway, New Year’s Eve here in Boston is celebrated with a giant city-wide party. You can buy a button that will get you into all kinds of things for free. There are concerts, ice sculptures, fireworks, skating, dancing, face painting, puppet shows, museums, all sorts of things. The list is almost endless and it is entirely impossible to do it all in one evening. This has been happening as long as I’ve been living here and, though it nearly went bankrupt and stopped happening a year or so ago, it is back with a vengeance now.
Enter politicians and police to screw it all up.
Last night the temperature dropped well into the teens, and it hardly felt any warmer this morning when I got up and went to work. So it’s safe to say that winter is no longer just coming, it’s here, and we got our new hot water heater just in time. Hot water is essential for winter survival – just ask the Starks of Winterfell.
Every winter is a new adventure here in Cambridge. Not for us, really, because we have seen New England winters, but for so many of the students around here that hail from sunnier climes. Many of them tend to not know what to make of serious winter weather, especially when they are driving.
One of my favorite things about living in Cambridge (and Greater Boston generally) is that I get to meet so many authors. I have met more authors in the last five years here in Cambridge than I have over all of the rest of my life combined. And although I have met a great many authors whose books I liked or even loved, sometimes I get to meet someone really, really great, whose work has a lot of special meaning for me. One of my literary heroes, as it were.
I got to meet Neil Gaiman.