Today’s Boston Globe headline: Tancredo pulls out, backing Romney

I made this shirt for what turned into a failed design contest at work, but I bet this thing can have a second life somewhere. (Note to non-Bostonians: It’s a play off the subway’s Blue Line, which is shaped that way on a map.) So whattaya say, MBTA? They’ll be all the rage. You could sell these shirts and pay off your debt, and I’m happy to trade it to you for, oh, free subway rides for life. Seems pretty generous on my end, I think.

I went to an advance screening of the mock-musical biopic “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story” last night, which was far better than I expected it to be. It was unnecessarily heavy on the dick-n-fart jokes (including some full-frontal male nudity, which got the most sustained laughter of the night), but it survived on its clever and smart parody of all things musical.

The low point of the night came from two pimply, college-age chuckleheads who sat next to me, and spent the whole evening alternatively complaining about the movie or laughing hysterically at their own jokes. As they blabbered their way through the film, it became clear that, despite “Walk Hard” being an in-your-face parody, they didn’t really understand what was going on. Whenever the film would take an intentionally corny, cliche, biopic-style twist, the guys would groan about how predictable it was. And during a scene set a few decades ago, when they spotted some modern-day cars driving around in the background, one huffed, ”Those cars aren’t even old!”

Revenge was childish: One of them forgot their sweater on the floor, which I discovered when I accidentially stepped on it. I left it there.

I sat down on the Red Line last night, and saw, diagonally from me, a man wearing a large envelope on his head. My first reaction was to whip out my cell phone and take this picture, because this is funny stuff:

As soon as I put the phone back in my pocket, the guy sitting next to me got up, walked over to the man and gave him a knit hat. And so: I’m an asshole.

From the work blog: Why newspapers shouldn’t love short stories.

It was a hot, boring day in July, 2003, when I was considering quitting my lousy newspaper job and going full-time freelance, when I came upon Sarah Hepola’s hilarious and alarming ”The Key to a Successful Freelance Career.” It did not (and nor did it intend to) convince me that freelancing was the way to go — and although I’d soon forget that lesson and quit my job for freelancing anyway, the story stuck with me, and so did her name. It became one of those bylines I took notice of: If I happen upon ”Sarah Hepola” atop a story, I’ll generally read what comes after. I don’t know anything about her and don’t go Googling for her latest work, but then, nor do I seek out N.R. Kleinfeld, and yet I’ve read a ton of his work, too. And once you’ve read enough of someone’s work, and become familiar enough with their name, you start to feel like you get to know them — not really, of course, but just with that kind of casual familiarity, like all those people you said “hi” to in college but never actually stopped to chat with.

And then one of them takes their shirt off for you, and puts their boobs up in your face. Hey there!

Luckily, it wasn’t N.R. Today I followed a The Morning News link to “Busting Out,” a funny, thoughtful piece Sarah wrote for Salon about her apparently enormous boobs, and her quest for self-acceptance and a fitting bra. Had I not recognized the byline atop this piece, it would have just been an entertaining read, and an insight into large-breasted women. But now I feel a little weird. Creepy, really. Now I feel like I’ve stalked someone on the Internet, and unearthed naked pictures of them. Oh, Sarah. This is awkward. Our relationship is moving faster than expected. What will we say in the morning?

That’s from today’s Gardner News, kindly forwarded to me by a former colleague. You might recall the paper from these great hits, and this tale of woe.

Mitt Romney has used corny jokes to deflect issues and charm voters all campaign long. But his comedic stylings seem awfully familiar. Which leads me to my latest post for the work blog: Can you tell the difference between Romney and late-night comedians?