Word: whoever
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Crescenzi still keeps a sign that several years back was left on one of the mannequins, reading, “Whoever put this here is blasphemy against God and his people...
...cares about the thrill of the playoffs. We’ll just put Duke and whoever happens to be No. 2 in the rankings into a one-game championship. No Cinderellas. No upsets. No justice. No chance to win a title on the court. Perfect...
...Whoever the Sandrine’s guitarist was that night, apologies from FM. Douthat’s song and Modigliani’s impression were both louder than all hell. When Sarah Darling stepped up to present, she started by saying, “I don’t have that much to talk about,” so she broke out her viola. The guitarist should have just packed it up and gone home as soon as she drew her bow. The group exhorted her to ask the guitarist to stop, and he wisely complied. Sarah played variations...
...Whoever ends up with the franchise will face the daunting but sacred task of bringing a World Series championship back to Boston. To that end, the first order of business must be to fire Sox GM Dan Duquette. Though the Duke brought superstars Pedro Martinez and Manny Ramirez to the Sox, Duquette proved he has no sense of team chemistry by publicly taking the side of outfielder Carl Everett in conflicts with the manager. The Sox need a fresh start after this year’s tailspin, and it cannot be done with Duquette at the helm...
...toward newspaper clipping myself. There is one cartoon I tore out of the New Yorker and then promptly threw away because I hated it. I remember it anyway. There is a woman standing by the fridge with a carton of ice cream open in her hand. Her husband (or whoever is the balding man in her life) sticks his head around the corner. “I’m not eating, I’m self-medicating,” is the catchy punchline italicized at the bottom. Subtext: Hah. Silly woman. Clearly self-medication is pathetic rationalization. Eating...