Beat the Reaper

Like books? Read this one.

Like amazing characters and plot? Read this book.

Like knowing there are worse hospitals than the one you got your head stapled shut in? Read this book.

Josh Bazell does it right with his novel Beat the Reaper. The simple fact that he wrote this while doing his residency makes me not ever want to sit on a paper covered table with him and simultaniously makes me want to follow him on rounds.

Tough economy getting you down and can't fork over the dough for a new book? There's this thing in your town called a library. Use it.

Boston Phoenix Gets It Done

I have been hopeful that the journalism for the Boston Phoenix (and Portland Phoenix by extension) would become steady and constant. With the front page article in the most recent issue (5/28/09) they get it done. Legalize Pot Now delves in to not only the most recent battles of the speed bumps decriminalization and legalization advocates have experienced.

While the story fell slightly short of the goal line in my opinion by not exploring the possibility that since Mexican drug traders make up to 75% of their profits from illegal marijuana sales, there may be some extra pressure being put on those in power to keep marijuana on the books. Extension perhaps more for a book on the subject (there are many and I'm sure many more to come) but it was the cutting edge of the article I craved.

Mike Miliard did a great job at getting to the heart of the story and gave good supposition for what to expect in the future.

Open Letter to Kallmann McKinnell & Knowles

Dear Kallmann McKinnell & Knowles,


For the first time in my life I have had the (dis)pleasure of entering Boston City Hall this morning. I have often driven by, curious if the bowels of your structure were as horrendous as the exterior. Many things have been said about the building since it was unvieled. Ugliest Building in the World. "What the hell is that?" Historic landmark.

I agree with the first two.


My reason for visiting City Hall was to secure a marriage license. Some said it would never happen, yet it shall. My lovely wife-to-be Carol joined me for the excursion. Upon entering the building I wondered how long I would be incarcerated. Dark concrete is the bones and the skin. Admittedly I only made it down to the Birth/Marriage/Parking portion of the building. I cannot speak for the seven floors I didn't visit. How can a building be so physically clean and dingy at the same time?

Your city structure makes me wonder about how things got to be this way. I wonder how you won the contest to build the damn thing in the first place. I wonder about the mental acuity of the judges of said contest. I wonder about Mayor Menino's plan to sell off the building and surrounding plaza (in the middle of f'n Government Center) and building a new City Hall in Southie (now suspended due to the kickass economy).

I have never built anything on par with what you have created. I am not attempting to drive your collective heads into the sand and tell you how children weep in fright when they look at what you've done. I am simply here to ask why.

As I've told a few friends who asked me about their new tattoos, "What made you think that was a good idea?"

Sincerely,

Nick Seagers

John Walsh, You Magnificent Bastard

The story's been told a thousand instances over time, yet I cannot resist. Its pull to my heart is like that of a chef to his knives.

Man approaches police. Visibly distraught, he conveys to the officers his annoyance due to his former female cohabitant gaining entry to his abode. After much deliberation and production of physical and testimonial evidence, including the suggestion that a voodoo doll within the house would spread curses, those two men who not only protect, but also serve sided with the man in the ripped Nascar t-shirt. A temporary restraining order was called for and the woman with whom this man had shared a bed was escorted off of the property.

Joyous of his moral victory, the man invites one of the officers inside of his abode to explain his religion, for under the Constitution of the United States of America, by God, this man had a right to his religion. He would not specify his denomination or lack thereof. Confused as to why the front door would no longer open, the man hoists himself through his bathroom window and opens his house to the officers hoping to show off his snake collection. Fourteen snakes writhe within a coffee table made of glass and wood. A similar cabinet, reptile-filled as well, sits behind the couch. While grasping one of the snakes to show the camera, the man is bitten and begins laughing.

John Walsh, you magnificent bastard.

P.S. Woman locked in bank needs to use the bathroom. Calls 911 to help her get out as she felt the desire to smoke a cigarette. Caving under pressure she admits she smells like whiskey because someone threw the beverage at her during a food fight.