NEW YORK. When President Donald Trump announced today that he would nominate New York Jets owner Woody Johnson to be U.S. ambassador to the United Kingdom, he did so in a way that reflected his scrappy “bridge and tunnel” upbringing in the borough of Queens, where the football team had its home for many years.
“Woody’s gonna be great, just great, okay?” Trump said. “He’s gonna go over there and remind them we had a war and they lost, so they’re losers.”…Continue
At the impressionable age of 17 I left the rural town where I grew up to attend college in the big city. There I soon learned that movies weren’t just a convenient occasion to feel up a girl and, if she turned you down, to blow into your empty Milk Duds box and make a fart noise. No, they were “films,” a form of entertainment that, when molded by a master director–an auteur–could achieve the status of art.…Continue
It is 7:20 p.m., time for the last train from South Station to the western suburbs of Boston. My point of embarcation, a once-proud civic landmark, is despite its grandiose re-christening as the Michael S. Dukakis Transportation Center, a scene of degraded desolation. Over there, a homeless man mumbles to himself. Here, a familiar street person approaches me to compliment me on my suit–a boxy chalk-striped number. “You lookin’ sharp, guv’nor–nothing like charcoal grey,” he says. I wonder…Continue
The day of your wedding should be the happiest day of your life, or at least the day of your first wedding. But the customs, folkways and by-laws of matrimony are so darned confusing, it is easy to “slip up,” with disastrous consequences. Ms. Wedding Lady is here to help sort it all out.…Continue