Yikes. When did Boston College become Florida State?

Over the weekend, Brady Smith became the latest Eagle to have his mug shot taken when the defensive end was charged with sexual assault. If that wasn’t bad enough, he was also accused of breaking and entering.

If anyone over at BC is reading, it might be time to have a talk with your players. Because running afoul of the law is becoming a habit. (more…)

While we here in America are wondering if the internet will kill print journalism, people in Japan are wondering whether text messaging will destroy the novel. In the Land of the Rising Sun, half of last year’s bestselling novels were originally cellphone novels, originally composed in text message format.

We thought the Boston Police Department was incredibly forward-thinking when we skimmed over this announcement for its “Text For Peace” contest. Alas, the BPD didn’t lift the idea and is sticking with the tried-but-true poster contest.

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We have fond memories of our first summer jobs. Back before we had rent or credit card debt, we could spend the money we earned herding elementary school kids on CD’s and gas that cost 99 cents a gallon. Those were the days.

So we were sad to read that Boston’s teenagers may not get the opportunity to earn some cash this summer. The agency in charge of the program that gets kids off the streets and into entry-level jobs at some of the city’s biggest companies says it only has enough money to fund 500 jobs for an estimated 4,000 kids who want them.

But rest easy, kids. We’ve got a solution.

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Look at this photo from today’s BU Daily Free Press. Now let me ask you something: When did college kids become so lame? I ask because, you know, last year I was one and if memory serves, I was lame—some might even say sophomoric and all to willing to fall back on a good fart joke—but I wasn’t this lame. Come on BU students. You have got to be kidding me. Don’t you have some form of alcohol or drug you could be intaking somewhere?

And do your parents know they’re spending $35K a year so you can run around with a broom between your legs? (more…)

You know who’s fun? Karl Rove.

I’m not kidding. Ever since he dropped his day job as a torture enabling evil genius, not only has he emerged as an ace TV analyst, but he just seems like a swell guy. A friend of mine still in college reported that when Rove was on campus giving a speech recently, he dropped by to sit in on her political journalism seminar—”and he couldn’t have been nicer!” I think that means he didn’t threaten to waterboard anybody.

It was apparently in that spirit that Krazy Karl agreed to sit down for an interview with On Harvard Time, a student-run online comedy news show. (Yes, it goes as badly as you’d expect.)

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I don’t remember worrying that much about my college acceptance letters. Maybe I was less driven than my peers, but I only applied to three schools and got the thick letters of acceptance from all of them. (Thanks again, Emerson!)

So maybe I’m not the best person to tell kids at Newton South High School that they should calm down about their rejection letters.

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Parents these days are busy. Whether they’re working to pass Proposition 2 1/2 overrides or forcing their kids to give up their birthday presents for charity, it’s hard to fit in the mundane tasks of raising a child. Which is why etiquette classes for kids are becoming wildly popular.

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No matter how many safeguards we put in place, kids are bound to have a horrible teacher at some point during their educational career. Someone I know still has night terrors about his sixth grade teacher who smelled of cigarettes and hazelnut coffee, and who made her students feel responsible for her inability to teach.

Once an incompetent teacher is in, the teachers’ union makes it nearly impossible to get rid of him or her. But the state wants to allow more stupid people to teach your kids.

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We love Elizabeth Edwards. Whether she’s fighting cancer or Ann Coulter (not that there’s much of a difference between the two—ba dum dum) she appears to be a smart, savvy woman.

So our day was brightened a bit by the news of her accepting a visiting fellowship at Harvard.

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I only spent only one year of my college career in a dorm, and in that time I had three roommates. The first was a friend of mine from high school who liked to lock me out of the room when her boyfriend stopped by. The second liked to hook up with her guy friend when I was still in the room. The third spent all of her time in her boyfriend’s single. She was my favorite.

But never during those nine months of tumult did I ever wish I lived with a guy.

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