You think today is a novelty — just an extra day in February, a one-in-four-year shot? Hooey, we say. Some folks and I are busily promoting a far better alternative. We may just take it to congress. Here, from our Facebook group, Anti-Leap Day Advocates for the Creation of AWESOME WEEK (which you should join right this second):

The only thing worse than February is an extra day of February. Leap day sucks. We propose that instead of having a ridiculous and unsatisfying 29th day of the second month of the year, we have a leap week every 28 years. This week would be positioned in the summer (I think most likely in July) and because this leap week would be such a rare and momentous occasion, it would have to be declared a week-long national holiday. There would be fun, vacation and awesome good times for all. And thus it would be called AWESOME WEEK!

Brilliant, right? Let’s make it happen, people.

Comic via Cooler Heads

We flew from Boston to Philadelphia on Friday evening, during the tail end of a snowstorm. The airport was pretty empty, so the TSA folks were bored and punchy. When I got to the security checkpoint (where there was no line), I did all the right things–took off my shoes, placed everything in bins, carried my ID and boarding pass with me through the metal detector.

“Good for you!” said the TSA guy, a tall dude in his 20s, as he examined my boarding pass. “You’ve followed government orders. You’ve conformed!”

“I don’t want to stand out,” I said.

“That’s right,” he said, a perfect mix of joking and absolute truth. “Just follow the crowd. Be a sheep.”

I guess it’s true: The TSA does have some actual humans working for it.

Portfolio ran an item about outsourcing Valentine’s Day, and it featured a hedge-funder named “Jason F.” who goes by the name “Douche.” To which New York mag wrote on its blog:

But a hedge-fund guy named Jason F. whose friends call him “Douche”? That sounds completely plausible. In fact, we bet that some of you readers know guys named Jason F that are — or should be — called “Douche.” Submit their names in comments below.

Somehow, somewhere, this is going to lead to an embarassing Google search. I just know it.

In this month’s Boston, I have a short piece about Bill O’Reilly potentially helping a local college newspaper—which meant, amusingly enough, that I got to talk to Bill on the phone for about 10 minutes. I still have the audio, but pledge never to listen to it again: Against his booming voice, I sound about as meek and stammering as I ever have. He was perfectly pleasant on the phone, but I was struck by how commanding he can be even when he’s not trying. I just blogged about it at work.

From a napkin-holder at The Other Side: 

Because you never know if they’ll bring a recorder and put your party on the air. A two-week-old, football-watching party at my place can be heard at the beginning of this report. The “Yes! Yes! Yes!” comes not from some untold debauchary, as it might sound, but instead from the strong lungs and Patriots enthusiasm of my colleague Amy.