Not to get too David Simon about this, but the Boston Globe's coverage of the past two weeks has really been outstanding. Like the Times-Picayune, post-Katrina, they'll win a Pulitzer for their coverage of the Marathon bombings, and it will be entirely justified. But what they deserve as well is our subscriptions. Be it Sunday, or online, local newspapers deserve the ability to fund exactly the sort of in-depth reporting the Globe has been giving us — because we, in turn, deserve news coverage of a quality far greater than what the national outlets (think back to how lost CNN was a few weeks ago) tend to spoon out to us.
It would appear that the trouble with labeling the Boston Marathon bombs "weapons of mass destruction" seems to be only that there is no National Pressure Cooker Association to successfully lobby Congress on behalf of the rights of lawful Americans wanting to use crock-pots for sporting purposes.
Because bombs don't kill people; people kill people. Do I have that right, Wayne LaPierre?
India is not subtle. Every venture into public space is a constant assault on the senses, and the number of things that makes one stop and say "Holy shit!" — especially when driving (or, riding, as it were) — is constant, and staggering.
True-life examples from only my first four days commuting in country:
Holy shit! That truck has three guys standing on the back bumper! And it's going 50!
Holy shit! So does that truck!
Holy shit! And that one! No, wait. Five guys!
Holy shit! That motorcycle is going against traffic on a four-lane highway. At dusk! With two passengers! And no helmets!
Holy shit! Those three guys have rifles!
Holy shit! That bus just missed hitting us by half an inch!
Holy shit! That must be the sixth guy I've seen today peeing by the side of the road!
Holy shit! We just missed hitting that cow by a half an inch!
Holy shit! That guy is squatting bare-assed and crapping in full public view!
Holy shit! These cars on either side of us are less than a foot away. And we're all going 40!
Holy shit! TWO three-legged dogs!
Holy shit! A camel!
Holy shit! A parakeet!
Holy shit! There are monkeys all over this town!
Holy shit! They're gutting a cow right there on the side of the road!
Holy shit! The statue of that god is tall enough that it has an airplane beacon on top of its tri-tipped sceptor.
Holy shit! That tiny motorized rickshaw has eight people in it!
Holy shit! A mall advertising a Dunkin Donuts!
Holy shit! That open payload truck is carrying heads of cauliflower stacked 12 feet high!
Holy shit! That bus is stopping to pick up a passenger from the middle lane of a three-lane highway!
Holy shit! A guy three stories high on single-ply bamboo pole scaffolding!
Holy shit! That sari is amazing!
Holy shit! That motorcycle is going 40 with mom in an amazing sari riding side-saddle. Holding a baby on her lap! And another kid is sitting on the gas tank! And, again, no helmets!
As the most glorious and holy day of the year approaches, I just wanted to take the opportunity to wish you and yours a peaceful and joyous time this Sunday. Enjoy, folks. Be safe. Share the game with those you most cherish. Praise Touchdown Jesus.