The New York Times is telling the unions at the Globe: give us $20 million in concessions, or the Globe will be no more.
And the Old Grey Lady isn't kidding.
I sometimes read the Globe and even though I don't agree with its editorial slant, I feel just a teeny bit smarter. The problem is that the Globe is geared to the upper-middle and upper classes of Boston; the Herald, while tabloidy and sensational, is for the more working-class of us.
The Metro? The bastard child of the Herald and the Globe that no one wants to admit is theirs. The Globe owns that too; maybe they should get an reasonably balanced editorial board and cut all the crap out of it.
4/03/2009
3/27/2009
Grandma got run over by the DOR
I don't condone smoking, but I just noticed that cancer sticks, over the past decade or so, have more than doubled in price. You could get a generic brand of smokes for $2, and a name brand for $3. Today, a generic pack costs $5.50 and a name brand pack is $7.50. This is due to our $2.51 state tobacco tax and the new $1 or so tax to fund children's health care. Cross the border into New Hampshire, and the prices are slightly less.
One industrious lady went the route of getting generic cigarettes from an Native American Smoke shop. One carton of their brand goes for the rock-bottom price of $14.89 - which comes out to 79 cents a pack. Pretty good deal, right? And the Native Americans, since they operate from a sovereign nation (aka the reservation), don't charge taxes on what they sell. You can get name brand cigarettes for $35 a carton - a huge savings over Massachusetts' $150 per carton.
But the Native Americans, making sure they keep kosher with the states, report whoever buys their cigarettes to the tax rolls of each state. As a result of buying 5 cartons of Seneca unfiltered cigarettes, this woman now must pay an additional $91.58 to the state. And, she's refusing to pay, even if they levy penalties and interest.
Let's calculate what's going on here. $14.89 times five cartons is $74.45. In order to tack on $91.58 to her bill, the tax on each additional carton must be $18.316, making her actual purchase (in the eyes of the Commonwealth) $166.03 - or $33.21 a carton. Why would the state chase this woman over cheap generic cigarettes at $33.21 a carton when there are bigger fish to fry - the people who fork over $150 for name brand cigarettes? Maybe it's because the Native Americans have a much better handle on freedoms and what it means, versus the health neurotics who can't seem to keep their germophobic mitts out of other people's business - and if they had a chance, not only would they not hand over names, they'd tell the states what rabbit hole to go down to?
When cigarettes and tobacco are banned from the state, I can tell exactly who's going to need the bigger nicotine patch - the Mass DOR, as billions of tax dollars generated from cigarette and tobacco sales fund everything the desire, and you bet they'll have a jones worse than a heroin withdrawal once that tax money goes away.
One industrious lady went the route of getting generic cigarettes from an Native American Smoke shop. One carton of their brand goes for the rock-bottom price of $14.89 - which comes out to 79 cents a pack. Pretty good deal, right? And the Native Americans, since they operate from a sovereign nation (aka the reservation), don't charge taxes on what they sell. You can get name brand cigarettes for $35 a carton - a huge savings over Massachusetts' $150 per carton.
But the Native Americans, making sure they keep kosher with the states, report whoever buys their cigarettes to the tax rolls of each state. As a result of buying 5 cartons of Seneca unfiltered cigarettes, this woman now must pay an additional $91.58 to the state. And, she's refusing to pay, even if they levy penalties and interest.
Let's calculate what's going on here. $14.89 times five cartons is $74.45. In order to tack on $91.58 to her bill, the tax on each additional carton must be $18.316, making her actual purchase (in the eyes of the Commonwealth) $166.03 - or $33.21 a carton. Why would the state chase this woman over cheap generic cigarettes at $33.21 a carton when there are bigger fish to fry - the people who fork over $150 for name brand cigarettes? Maybe it's because the Native Americans have a much better handle on freedoms and what it means, versus the health neurotics who can't seem to keep their germophobic mitts out of other people's business - and if they had a chance, not only would they not hand over names, they'd tell the states what rabbit hole to go down to?
When cigarettes and tobacco are banned from the state, I can tell exactly who's going to need the bigger nicotine patch - the Mass DOR, as billions of tax dollars generated from cigarette and tobacco sales fund everything the desire, and you bet they'll have a jones worse than a heroin withdrawal once that tax money goes away.
2/23/2009
Kate Jackson's battle with cancer, served up with a wink and a slice of sass
Kate M. Jackson was a graduate of the Boston Latin Academy class of 1988, and is currently undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer at the Dana Farber Cancer Institute.
Her blog, Pointy Universe, is a great blog that takes us on her journey with with interest, humor, and ruefulness about what happens when cancer occurs and how people deal with the hair falling out, the 15 hour sleep sessions, and the nausea.
Kate, should you read my blog between the sessions of red death and radiation, I graduated two years later in 1990...I'm the tall red headed guy with glasses. The DFCI people are fantastic and will help you through this journey...they helped my dad through his treatments until his final days. Ad aspera ad astra, and your hair will grow back!
Her blog, Pointy Universe, is a great blog that takes us on her journey with with interest, humor, and ruefulness about what happens when cancer occurs and how people deal with the hair falling out, the 15 hour sleep sessions, and the nausea.
Kate, should you read my blog between the sessions of red death and radiation, I graduated two years later in 1990...I'm the tall red headed guy with glasses. The DFCI people are fantastic and will help you through this journey...they helped my dad through his treatments until his final days. Ad aspera ad astra, and your hair will grow back!
2/03/2009
Memo to Globe: Grab Universal Hub NOW
Dan Kennedy from Media Nation has one demand: the Boston Globe, if it wants to shake itself out of its stodgy doldrums, must hence and forthwith acquire Universal Hub and Adam Gaffin.
First, I am a frequent blogger whose material frequently appears on Universal Hub, and whenever I see a post from my blog appear on Universal Hub, it gives me encouragement to post more here. I can comment there without having some obnoxious schmo (ahem, I mean, 'concerned citizen') try to convince the board that (insert wacky, obtuse pet theory or slogan here) and that I'm wrong for pointing out the error of their ways.
Second, if the Globe wants to get its credibility back (see: "g", the Mike Barnicle plagarism incident, supplying WTKK with most of its material), it should relentlessly seek Mr. Gaffin's talents. I like viewing his page because there is stuff for everyone. Real diversity there, all for the taking.
Finally, I know the Globe is hurtin' because no one's picking up the print anymore - or if they are, they're lining their birdcages with it. I'm not looking for the Globe to suddenly turn into the Phoenix (sans adult section - nothing spells embarassment than telling your seatmate on the train, 'I remember when I had a Rabbit - a 1981 diesel operated Rabbit that lasted me until 2002...') and be the beacon of fake hipster angst. But the Globe has to get out of its stodgy Beacon Hill/Blue Book doldrums, and Universal Hub is that grease that will spin that squeaky wheel on Morrissey Blvd.
First, I am a frequent blogger whose material frequently appears on Universal Hub, and whenever I see a post from my blog appear on Universal Hub, it gives me encouragement to post more here. I can comment there without having some obnoxious schmo (ahem, I mean, 'concerned citizen') try to convince the board that (insert wacky, obtuse pet theory or slogan here) and that I'm wrong for pointing out the error of their ways.
Second, if the Globe wants to get its credibility back (see: "g", the Mike Barnicle plagarism incident, supplying WTKK with most of its material), it should relentlessly seek Mr. Gaffin's talents. I like viewing his page because there is stuff for everyone. Real diversity there, all for the taking.
Finally, I know the Globe is hurtin' because no one's picking up the print anymore - or if they are, they're lining their birdcages with it. I'm not looking for the Globe to suddenly turn into the Phoenix (sans adult section - nothing spells embarassment than telling your seatmate on the train, 'I remember when I had a Rabbit - a 1981 diesel operated Rabbit that lasted me until 2002...') and be the beacon of fake hipster angst. But the Globe has to get out of its stodgy Beacon Hill/Blue Book doldrums, and Universal Hub is that grease that will spin that squeaky wheel on Morrissey Blvd.
1/30/2009
Class act Gil Santos silences his baritone voice for the final time
Gil Santos - long known as the voice of the New England Patriots and a fixture at WBZ-1030, said goodbye to his fans and listeners.
Gil Santos was a class act. Unlike sportscasters of today, who seem to scream over one another for attention, Santos knew how to grab his audience without turning them off. His excitement was genuine, not forced and followed by a plug for sketchy items like Cash4Gold or weight-loss scams. Like his news counterpart Gary LaPierre, who also retired not long ago, Santos was a fixture of the old style Boston news, one that told a story without flashy CGI graphics and teases for segments.
And, he doesn't have to get up at 3 in the morning anymore. That's a good thing.
Gil Santos was a class act. Unlike sportscasters of today, who seem to scream over one another for attention, Santos knew how to grab his audience without turning them off. His excitement was genuine, not forced and followed by a plug for sketchy items like Cash4Gold or weight-loss scams. Like his news counterpart Gary LaPierre, who also retired not long ago, Santos was a fixture of the old style Boston news, one that told a story without flashy CGI graphics and teases for segments.
And, he doesn't have to get up at 3 in the morning anymore. That's a good thing.
1/16/2009
It's the quiet ones you've got to watch, and the shy ones you've got to gently press
I posted an article about shyness in the workplace on Facebook from the New York Post (link here) and a few days later I got into a nice conversation from an old classmate of mine.
This classmate (female, if you want to know) said "I totally agree with you...I still blush once in awhile, but I'm beginning to become better at speaking up being more forward."
I think in all of my 37 years in existence, that message was like a tiny drop of water hitting a calm pool and reverberating throughout the pond. That simple message of "I know where you're coming from, I'm in the same boat" was nice, refreshing, honest, and direct.
For many years, I've held myself back, all because I thought the next words to come out of my mouth would either be a rooster's crow or something I would regret. I never went to dances, semi-formals, proms, or anything remotely resembling social gatherings because I was too shy to ask a girl out. Asking questions at my job takes a little bit of courage, but I always seem to preface it with a joke to take the edge off of that anxiety. Once the question's asked, though, I feel much better.
To "shore up" the shortcomings I have with the Cleary Squared tongue, I take solace in writing. I don't know if it's because the delete or backspace key is within easy reach, or I think better through a 110 key piece of machinery (I'm on my fifth keyboard in five years), but there's a certain satisfaction of clicking your way to a conversation, rather than coming up to someone face-to-face and going, "a-duh, homina, homina, homina" and actually insulting the one you intended to ask out for a coffee or a night out.
There are probably people who seem really bold, forward, almost obnoxious, who are actually as shy or reticent in person. The quiet kids who don't speak all that much actually tend to be funny and smart, but don't want to reveal all the cards they have in their deck until they know the proper time to use them. Sometimes people mistake the quiet people who don't say much for shy people who are too afraid to say anything.
This classmate (female, if you want to know) said "I totally agree with you...I still blush once in awhile, but I'm beginning to become better at speaking up being more forward."
I think in all of my 37 years in existence, that message was like a tiny drop of water hitting a calm pool and reverberating throughout the pond. That simple message of "I know where you're coming from, I'm in the same boat" was nice, refreshing, honest, and direct.
For many years, I've held myself back, all because I thought the next words to come out of my mouth would either be a rooster's crow or something I would regret. I never went to dances, semi-formals, proms, or anything remotely resembling social gatherings because I was too shy to ask a girl out. Asking questions at my job takes a little bit of courage, but I always seem to preface it with a joke to take the edge off of that anxiety. Once the question's asked, though, I feel much better.
To "shore up" the shortcomings I have with the Cleary Squared tongue, I take solace in writing. I don't know if it's because the delete or backspace key is within easy reach, or I think better through a 110 key piece of machinery (I'm on my fifth keyboard in five years), but there's a certain satisfaction of clicking your way to a conversation, rather than coming up to someone face-to-face and going, "a-duh, homina, homina, homina" and actually insulting the one you intended to ask out for a coffee or a night out.
There are probably people who seem really bold, forward, almost obnoxious, who are actually as shy or reticent in person. The quiet kids who don't speak all that much actually tend to be funny and smart, but don't want to reveal all the cards they have in their deck until they know the proper time to use them. Sometimes people mistake the quiet people who don't say much for shy people who are too afraid to say anything.
1/11/2009
Dear Patrick Swayze...
I watched your interview with Barbara Walters on YouTube.
I am the son of a lung cancer patient who died in 2005. When he was diagnosed in 2004, the cancer was discovered as osteosarcoma hit his femur and the bone snapped. The next day, tests confirmed that osteosarcoma came from a mass in his lung. We all got to watch cancer transform him the same way it's transforming you - weight loss, chemo, etc. You still don't look too bad, but those last few weeks he was alive, he was down at least 25-30 pounds. Not once, though, did he want pity, sorrow, or anything else. He still cracked jokes and did what he could to keep his quality of life until he drew his last breath on November 22, 2005. When my father finally passed away, however, I didn't scream or cry. I felt so relieved and happy that he didn't have to suffer through the monster that was cancer anymore.
When I watched that interview, however, not a single time did I say, "Poor guy, he's doesn't have that much time left." I said, "Wow, Patrick Swayze could kick cancer's ass and do a scene from Dirty Dancing at the same time!" (Or at least give it a temporary kick in the naughty bits.)
Certainly, it's going to be sad to leave your wonderful wife of 33 years, Lisa Niemi. It's still sad for my mother, as those past memories will rush up like a wave and crash at the least expected time. What's left over is not the body, not the voice that you hear when you wake up in the morning, but the memories and the love. That's the most wonderful gift you can leave before and after you die.
The late Bill Bixby once said, "People with cancer just die, give up...you can't do that." That's precisely what you're doing - keeping everything up just to maintain your sanity. We all die - that's a fact. When is the variable that makes us nervous - some die moments after they come out, others last for a century or more. Only God (or your favorite deity) knows for sure. When that moment comes, it will not be a sad moment. It will be a joyous one.
I wish you the best of luck during these times, and keep on with that uptempo attitude of yours!
Cleary Squared
I am the son of a lung cancer patient who died in 2005. When he was diagnosed in 2004, the cancer was discovered as osteosarcoma hit his femur and the bone snapped. The next day, tests confirmed that osteosarcoma came from a mass in his lung. We all got to watch cancer transform him the same way it's transforming you - weight loss, chemo, etc. You still don't look too bad, but those last few weeks he was alive, he was down at least 25-30 pounds. Not once, though, did he want pity, sorrow, or anything else. He still cracked jokes and did what he could to keep his quality of life until he drew his last breath on November 22, 2005. When my father finally passed away, however, I didn't scream or cry. I felt so relieved and happy that he didn't have to suffer through the monster that was cancer anymore.
When I watched that interview, however, not a single time did I say, "Poor guy, he's doesn't have that much time left." I said, "Wow, Patrick Swayze could kick cancer's ass and do a scene from Dirty Dancing at the same time!" (Or at least give it a temporary kick in the naughty bits.)
Certainly, it's going to be sad to leave your wonderful wife of 33 years, Lisa Niemi. It's still sad for my mother, as those past memories will rush up like a wave and crash at the least expected time. What's left over is not the body, not the voice that you hear when you wake up in the morning, but the memories and the love. That's the most wonderful gift you can leave before and after you die.
The late Bill Bixby once said, "People with cancer just die, give up...you can't do that." That's precisely what you're doing - keeping everything up just to maintain your sanity. We all die - that's a fact. When is the variable that makes us nervous - some die moments after they come out, others last for a century or more. Only God (or your favorite deity) knows for sure. When that moment comes, it will not be a sad moment. It will be a joyous one.
I wish you the best of luck during these times, and keep on with that uptempo attitude of yours!
Cleary Squared
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