The Week That Was

1194621935Chronicling the past week via quick links and pithy commentary (Boston Pops, Pats Win, Schilling Signs edition).

Pats to Colts—Cheaters! Can Gregg Easterbrook find a way to blame Belichick for the noise at the RCA Dome?

We’ve got a fever and the only cure is: More Ron Paul.

David Wade talks to us about going to WBZ: And a few other things.

Stalking Conan: We don’t know why anyone would either.

Keith Lockhart breaks it down: Talking Pops TV, John Mayer, and that fight last year.


There is no way you can argue police details are a good thing: Not that the Herald doesn’t try.

To the victors: Go the QVC appearances.

The T Chronicles, Part I: You’ll never achieve greatness if you don’t try stuff. Inspiring words.

Looks like Howie’s going back to RKO: Whatever will they do with the stick puppet?


Man, they’ll let anyone on reality TV: He’s all yours, ladies.

Election Day Blues, Part I: And that was before they saw the turnout.

Those crazy Harvard kids: Can we please be on the Beverage Authorization Team?


Schilling’s back: Care to put in a word with Mike Lowell, big guy?

Election Day Blues, Part II: Diversity loses. Felix Arroyo, too.

Happy Anniversary, Deval: If it was us, we’d probably try to forget the whole one-year thing.

Open season on the Pats: Meet the new Oakland Raiders.


You had us at sex and drugs: In praise of the genius that is the Herald’s front page.

The 4-letter word: You said it Scott, not us.

Chez Vous is still open: Which is great because we never get tired of hearing Boogie Wonderland while we’re on roller skates.


At long last, the hooligans’ essays are revealed: Is this graded on a curve because we don’t think the Northeastern kid is going to pass.

The Answer: Mitt Market: The Question: What happens when you put so much of your own cash into your campaign.

The Mashpees are playing high-stakes poker: This doesn’t feel like it will end well.

The T Chronicles, Part II: Please, God. No.

That’s all for us this week. We’ll see you on Monday.