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When he was 17 years old, Joseph Donovan made the first of two stupid, and even reckless, mistakes. On the evening of September 18, 1992, in a brutish act of machismo, the East Cambridge native and minor-league delinquent punched out Norwegian MIT student Yngve Raustein.
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On July 30, the New York Times revealed that David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez — heroes of the Red Sox' 2004 and 2007 World Series wins — are on the (supposedly) secret list of a hundred-plus major leaguers who tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs) in 2003.
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Politics, an old cliché holds, is the art of the possible. Achieving the possible is a matter of power. And in a media-saturated democracy, power flows to those with good poll numbers.
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Shepard Fairey spins at Obey Experiment REDUX at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston
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Watching folks eat at national fast-food outlets depresses me. Not only are they paying for advertising, but they're getting so little give-a-damn in their food. You sense that acutely after dining at a neighborhood place like Ali's Roti, a 22-seat counter-service Trinidadian restaurant at the western edge of the South End.
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Merce Cunningham's death on July 26 wasn't unexpected. He'd been in frail health since this past winter. He was in a wheelchair for his 90th-birthday celebration in April at Brooklyn Academy of Music. In June, the Cunningham Foundation announced plans for the future of the company and the repertory after his death.
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When he was 17 years old, Joseph Donovan made the first of two stupid, and even reckless, mistakes. On the evening of September 18, 1992, in a brutish act of machismo, the East Cambridge native and minor-league delinquent punched out Norwegian MIT student Yngve Raustein.
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On July 30, the New York Times revealed that David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez — heroes of the Red Sox' 2004 and 2007 World Series wins — are on the (supposedly) secret list of a hundred-plus major leaguers who tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs) in 2003.
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Watching folks eat at national fast-food outlets depresses me. Not only are they paying for advertising, but they're getting so little give-a-damn in their food. You sense that acutely after dining at a neighborhood place like Ali's Roti, a 22-seat counter-service Trinidadian restaurant at the western edge of the South End.
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It's too bad Skip Gates didn't have Schuyler Towne's cell number on that fateful day last month. If he did, the Somerville-based lockpicking champ likely could have gotten in to the good professor's home in no time at all, and a national controversy (and international beer summit) might have been averted.
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