A small favor to ask of all the mothers, helpers, and others who may be wheeling around babies and other young’uns: If your child is crying — and not just crying but wailing — and you’re about to get on a crowded T during rush hour, please think twice.
Don’t be like the woman who wheeled a crying baby onto the B line this morning and did nothing to quiet the kid down as we rode all the way down Comm Ave. Continue reading
I’ve been working on an article about soccer — sorry, I mean football — in Milan, and happened upon this clip of Tiziano Crudeli, who is like Milan’s version of Jerry Remy. I know it’s old news when an announcer goes nuts for a goal, but there’s something about Crudeli that just cracks me up. He actually looks a little bit like Remy, so I was trying to picture RemDawg going this bezerk when Manny or Papi or someone hits a homerun. Can you just imagine? Watch this clip and tell me you can see it too. I particularly love the guy who appears at the 49-second mark to the left who is pretty much oblivious to the mayhem right next to him. Good stuff. And if you don’t know RemDawg, I’ve got a classic clip of him below the Crudeli one. Enjoy.
Sometime in June 2005, I was asked at the Virgin Megastore on Newbury Street (before it was a lame Best Buy) if I wanted to buy a $1 wristband to support One, the organization founded by Bono to combat world hunger, poverty, and other global issues.
I’m on record as saying I don’t support hunger, so I said yes, and almost instantly, I put the wristband on my wrist.
Over the years, people would ask me what the white wristband meant, and I would often use the same line: it’s my way of identifying myself as a single person. That, or I’d say a census taker came by, saw I was single, and told me to wear the wristband.
I enjoyed extending the story to explain that if I ever saw someone on the street wearing one of these wristbands, I’d know she was available and a potential mate.
I guess it’s safe to say that I supported the cause of ending my single status more than that of ending world hunger. And to that end, I always wore the wristband.
Always.
Annoyingly and unattractively so, it never came off. (Except for my sister’s wedding, when she asked me to remove it. Hey, you don’t mess with a bride.)
For good.
No, it’s not because I’ve started dating someone. And amazingly enough, its not because I realized the wristband was probably counter-productive to getting women to go out with me (though I suppose there may be something to that).
It’s just that, um, er, well, ah, I finally decided that the wristband’s kinda lame.
And I think everyone agrees because I never see anyone wearing any kind of wristband. Not white ones, not red ones — not even the yellow ones that were so ubiquitous a year or two ago.
In fact, I don’t think I ever saw another person wearing a white wristband in the entire three-year period I had one on.
But passing fad aside, what happened?
Those yellow Livestrong bracelets were everywhere. Now they’re nowhere.
I’ll admit, my wristband came off partly because it was just not cool anymore to wear it. But that’s me and I’m lame like that.
Where are all the other people who are less impressionable than me? What happened to their bracelets?
Yup, that’s me again on Boston.com. They’ve posted a link to my post last night about the T. If you’ve come to my site today from Boston.com, welcome. I hope you’ll stay a while and come back often.
I suppose the good news is that there’s hope for the rest of us.
That’s because the bad news is Will Smith is not perfect.
His latest movie, Hancock, is one of the bigger disappointments of the season.
The concept’s great: Smith stars as sort of an anti-superhero hero. While the bad guys are shooting ’em up, Hancock is passed out drunk on a bus station bench.
When he does save the day, he causes more damage and destruction. People view him not as a good guy but as an asshole.
(Sorry, Dad. That’s what they call him in the movie.)
So when Hancock inadvertently saves actual good guy and unsuccessful PR agent Ray (Jason Bateman), the hero becomes the unwitting participant in a makeover campaign to improve his public image. Continue reading
Martin's Musings 