Let's be honest: it wasn't really a fair fight.
Anyone who follows #mapoli knows that the dean of the Massachusetts political twitterati is the Phoenix's own David S. Bernstein -- the man responsible for such runaway hits as #mapoliwithanimals (now a popular Tumblr, as well), #ScottoSawIt (after Scott Brown was fooled by fake Bin Laden death photos), #HowCambridgeShouldPickAMayor, #FakeMATown, #ReplaceItWithMitt, and #FakeMAPoliExitPolls.
If you're a journalist in the trenches, chances are you're too busy and too poor to attend (and your publisher is too poor to send you to) SXSW Interactive, the annual to-do where all the smart, well-funded bastards go to interact with other smart, well-funded bastards who can afford to think for five minutes about how to get us all out of this goddamn mess we're in.
Wired reports that Homeland Security agents recently contacted a member of Occupy Boston to discuss one of the stranger incidents from OB's tenure in Dewey Square.
As first reported by the Phoenix's Chris Faraone, in the bleary early-morning hours of December 10 -- just an hour or so before Boston Police raided the Dewey Square tent city, ending the longest-running #OWS encampment in the country -- an unidentified man either smacked or punched Robin Jacks in the face, grabbed her iPhone, and took off.
My favorite piece in the fishwrap this week, by a long shot, is former staffwriter Chris Wright's lyrical snapshot of September 10, 2001 -- the day before the day that would live in infamy. It's under 800 words, and it never once mentions September 11. But in the way that it holds New York City suspended in time, it is both the most beautiful and the most terrifying piece I've read in this over-saturated week of 9/11 coverage.
A tropical storm is laying some serious wood to the Bean. The horror. The horror. Photos after the jump.
Yes, this post consists of Tweets you could easily get by starting at Twitter. But if the Globe can do it and pretend it's news, so can we. Irene already ruined our weekend plans, so we're holed up in the deluxe Boston Phoenix emergency bunker with a bottle of vodka and the iPad glued to #MAIrene. We'll be posting the best photos via Storify in yet another post with "blow" and "Irene" in the headline, because that's what newspapers do on a day like today.
which is actually known as UGG Australia (so that's who makes these
things), has finally deigned itself to open a store on Newbury Sreet.
For the boots most popular with high school girls in the more popular
cliques what could be better to celebrate the grand opening than an
ironic cocktail party co-hosted by GQ
We didn't think it could get better. But it got better.
Not to be outdone by the Patriots Day Twitter meme #PRCMOMS -- a/k/a "Your Mom Is So Cambridge" -- @joegrav and @ChuckGiuffrida today struck back with #YourMomIsSoRevere
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Not since the catholic church scandal have so many revealed so much about .
While one side of the river is either running the marathon, getting drunk and watching the marathon, or stumbling out of Fenway Park after the annual 11am Red Sox game, the other side of the river is enjoying our fakest spring holiday the way nature intended: by starting hyperlocal hashtag memes.
En fuego right now: #prcmoms, which caught us off guard at first -- who knew the Photographic Resource Center had a mom? -- until we realized it was shorthand for "People's Republic of Cambridge Moms."
Only in a meta-riffic modern world could Mashable write that these non-existent social network shelltoes (pics above and below) "aren’t available for purchase," and, thanks to Facebook and Twitter (and Gawker, to a degree), still inspire countless heads to (potentially) comment them into existence.
Chris Brown's mom is not doing a dang thing to help her baby boy's
already tarnished reputation. On Tuesday she "accidentally" tweeted
something very incriminating (and frankly nonsensical) that had the
Internet in a big tizzy. Something about the late MJ being the sacrificial lamb/spiritual collateral that allowed Brown to continue to tread the cobbles of Hollywood.
By now you've all probably heard the news that The Big Aristotle has touched down in Boston. And while the Shaq of yesteryear (pictured above)
would've launched us into the Miami Heat stratosphere of odds-on
favorites to knock off the Lakers, there's really no downside to this
man of many names accepted a two-year contract worth far less than what he's
accustomed to -- somewhere in the vicinity of $19 million less than the 20
he banked with the Cavs last season.
He's alive and he is sick of all the death gossip-mongering, ok? He didn't drown facedown in a kiddie pool filled with delicious JELL-O pudding. He didn't giggle himself into cardiac arrest over something a precocious 5-year-old said. He is alive, damn it. Another death rumor went viral this Monday (on Twitter, where else?) ringing the fourth death knell for the 73-year-old funnyman.
Kanye West's online activity is weird and erratic. Just like the self-appointed king of awesomeness himself. The messiah of all that glitters recently stood up from his diamond-encrusted throne, set down his golden chalice of talent-juice and took a moment to survey his kingdom. His subjects gaped up at him through thankful, teary eyes, hands raised beseechingly, and waited.
A first glipmse of the Ovo egg. For more info, follow us at twitter.com/BostonPhoenix
In the wise words
of food critic Robert Nadeau: "Being a good dog is the essence of a
thing; being a good person is a garnish on top of a thing." But what of
being a good egg? Well, if that egg happens to be Cirque du Soleil's Ovo, it might just be the one thing that can unite us all