CALL ME SNAKE

Today we're introducing a new feature called "Movie Ads You're Not Likely to See." This feature, sure to be one of our most popular, is pretty self-explanatory, as you shall see. Without further ado, here's the first installment:

PSYCHO: "a moving family drama about a son and his undying love for his mother.”

When I was in my 20s and early 30s, I used to throw big parties with a group of guys, one of whom is arguing a case before the U.S. Supreme Court today on global warming. I mention it because it shows how far this guy has gone--and how high his star has risen--since our youthful party days. And here I am, by contrast, at home, rather than in our nation's capital, still eager to go to those parties, if only I got invited.

I'm having wrist troubles lately (BORING), which has cut into my sudoku time. But I trained myself to do the puzzles with my right hand (I normally write with the left), and it's working out fine. I shouldn't make too big a deal of it, though, as I know a Boston area artist who lost the use of his right arm, as a result of a stroke, and had to learn to paint with his left. He even had a showing in Boston of his "Left Hand Work" last year, and it was spectacular. My right-handed sudoku triumphs pale by comparison.

I had my rollerblades on yesterday and felt like going somewhere, though I didn't know where. I returned some DVDs to the Central Square library and continued on, exploring the rapidly-expanding industrial area in Cambridge between Central Square, MIT, and the river--a realm I barely know at all, apart from the Good News Garage and a few other landmarks. It was strange, after having lived in this town for 30 years, to go through one unfamiliar block after another, passing a paint factory (California), biotech companies like Vertex, and the occasional park and residential enclave tucked in between. Being Sunday, it was a fun time to roam this alien landscape, as traffic was light to nonexistent. In addition to getting some exercise, I learned that the town I thought I knew so well still holds plenty of surprises.

The other day, I saw a strange sight--a well-dressed man in a business suit thumbing a ride on a quiet residential street in Cambridge and, not surprisingly, getting nowhere. I figure he was about 60 years old and probably hitched a lot in the 60s. I did my share in the 70s and had a number of hair-rising rides over the years, coming close to death on a few occasions. But the best and longest ride I ever got occurred when I was 19. My brother and I were making our way back from Aspen to Chicago and we got a ride from Vail, Colorado all the way to Joliet, Illinois. A nice guy with a poodle took a chance on two young backpackers, carrying us roughly 1,000 miles and leaving us just a short commuter train ride from the city. When I look back on my hitchhiking years, there were many low points--including being hassled by cops in L.A. ("what's a matter, no speaky English?")--but that cross-country trek was surely the high point.

Presidential candidate Mitt Romney is following the usual script--cutting services for the homeless and mentally ill, bashing gay marriage, and now invoking the name of God, or rather Ronald Reagan, in promoting small government and the virtues of the American people. (Query: How can the world's most powerful nation and world's largest economy be effectively run by small government?) It's all too familiar. It was not so long ago that another Republican candidate invoked the name of the hallowed Reagan in his bid for the White House, touting the example of said B-movie actor at every opportunity. The candidate, of course, was George W. Bush, and we all know how that turned out.

On our annual drive to New Hampshire each Thanksgiving, Mr. Mike's is a welcome half-way point, an oasis on a day of closed McDonald's and abandoned donut stands. On the drive north, as if in a dream, I think I saw two Mr. Mike's though the second one was a bit of a blur and perhaps apocryphal. My wife's aunt thinks she saw a second one, too, though she can't swear to it. On the return trip to Boston, earlier today, my mother-in-law claims to have seen three Mr. Mike's, which comes as a complete shock to me (the driver). I could only swear to one and figured there could only be two, at most, along our long-familiar route. Yet she, a woman who is not prone to hyperbole, claims to have seen a third. As to how many we'll see on the next journey, only time--and visual acuity (which may be in short supply)--will tell.

I haven't watched these shows but saw it in the TV section of the paper, while looking for Sudoku: On ABC from 9-10 p.m., viewers can watch Potter of "Daybreak" relive the same day over and over again. Then on NBC from 10-11, they can watch Allison of "Medium" relive the same bad dream over and over again. Which makes me wonder: Are we doomed to watch the same TV show over and over again? Is that what they mean by hell? Or is it just TV hell?

Mitt Romney wants to be president. What are his qualifications, apart from his phoney anchorman looks, the successful Ice Capades show he hosted in Utah some years back, and the fact that he is now the leading presidential contender in Utah polls? Well for starters he seems destined to be one of the worst governors in Massachusetts history, putting him in the heady company of Paul Celluci and others. And here's how the guv is saying happy thanksgiving to his constituents--by cutting support for homeless programs and through separate budget cuts that will prevent already-strapped state mental health centers from accepting any new patients. Well happy thanksgiving to you too, guv.

Over the next couple of weeks, a man living in Jamaica Plain (as reported in yesterday's Boston Globe) is planning to string 250,000 Christmas lights around his giant, castle-like abode. He keeps the lights--some of which were installed in October--turned on until 1:30 a.m., and they will stay on even later as Christmas nears. Some neighbors are less than thrilled about the luminous overkill, complaining that it's like living in Las Vegas. "Well, too bad. It's Christmas," says the man, Dominic Luberto, who's already planning an even bigger display for next year's holiday season.