Live Blogging

But for Robert Smigel, SNL is gazing at its navel and seeing Ashlee Simpson. Such is the decline of Saturday night as we know it.

We saw R.E.M. at the Fleet Center last night and Michael Stipe stretched his elastic body across old songs and new. Resilient and resonating. Dedicated “The One I Love” to the Red Sox and hoped for another Massachusetts victory on Tuesday: VOTE! And I sang along to Losing my Religion. God!

Saw the Red Sox Rolling Rally at the corners of Cambridge and Stanford in drizzle and the rolling thunder of motorcycle’s finest. Curt Schilling personally accepted my thanks and Luis Tiant made my day complete with memories of his ballet-like delivery. Oh, and David Ortiz high-fived my rally cheer with a million moves and a final walk-off handshake. Mount your Ducks, indeed.

I icon of a heart Huckabees is some quirky philosophical ice cream cone pitching the deconstructionist curve ball against the zen of Dustin Hoffman. Lily Tomlin meets Eminem and both agree that SNL needs triple bypass parmigiana.

Which by the way I had in the North End last night while Beverly had some dish that called to her. The minestrone was mighty and the chianti was Ruffino.

That was the best you got Karl Rove? Your corrupted party turns its eyes to you. What's that you say, W, a nation turns its fearful eyes away. And Joltin' John has left your oil in disarray. Hey, hey, hey.

I have an addiction lately for Red Sox caps and find poetry a little bit pretentious like the Moody Blues in their heyday. But that’s my direction in the coming days.

Today is the only day when you can really relive one hour of your life. Fall back!

And Happy Halloween to all you ships at sea.