Gone Communicatin'

So. That happened.

As you may know, I've got a new gig communicating for City Council President Mike Ross. Since shortly after my unfortunate layoff, I've been doing some consulting for him, and it turned into a full-time position. Which is great news for my bank account, but less than stellar for pasquinade.

I love blogging. I relish reading your comments. Yes, even the nasty ones. Although my family is less than thrilled by my willingness to talk about my life here (my mother still prefaces some statements with "don't blog this"), I've really enjoyed oversharing with strangers. When I was making textbooks or acting as my own media personality, that was appropriate. Now that I'm representing a politician, it's less so.

This means pasquinade will largely go un-updated for a while. I'm under contract to write for NESN.com for a while longer, so you'll see my sports-related thoughts there. When I'm officially done, I'm hoping to have a Blogging Hiatus party at a location to be named later to thank you all for reading. (By gracing you with my presence, that is. I was unemployed, remember. I can't afford open bar or snacks.)

With all the challenges facing Boston, this gig will be an interesting adventure. I hope you'll keep tabs on what's coming out of City Hall in the next few months, and I'll be talking to you soon.

Beacon Hill Makes Me Doubt My Sanity

I spend one day writhing in agony due to a stomach bug, and wake up to find the whole world has gone mad. Bernard Cohen is "resigning," as Jon Keller so eloquently put it, and Gov. Deval Patrick hopes to replace him with James Aloisi. Who helped plan the Big Dig. Which is a large part of why our transportation system is royally screwed. How, exactly, is this a good idea?

I'm partial to Cohen, who hasn't been afraid to speak the truth about the state's doomed transportation systems, and am sad to see him go. (But, let me be clear—I'm unemployed, and wouldn't take that job for all the cushy benefits and pensions you could throw at me. It's like being made captain of a ship that is actively sinking.)

And in other crazy news, House Speaker Sal DiMasi has taken up the reformer's mantle in this transit funding brouhaha.

THE CHINESE SYMBOL for crisis is a combination of the characters for danger and opportunity.

I'm pretty sure that's how some of the sorority girls justified their ill-advised tattoos when I was in college. But after the cheesy start, DiMasi makes the case that a toll hike is a dumb way to try to save the Turnpike. Instead, DiMasi argues, we need to reform these agencies, then raise the gas tax.

Which is exactly what Senate President Therese Murray argued in a Globe editorial last month. So, if my math is correct, two out of three Beacon Hill leaders are on the same page about how to handle this crisis. While the third is busy appointing a man to lead the troubled agencies who helped put them on the road to hell.

This is going to get very interesting.

Tom Menino Gets Lit

For one of the last Go To Guide event newsletters I wrote at my old job, I made a joke about the holiday season being more stressful for Mayor Tom Menino than it is for the average citizen. Turns out, attending tree lightings from Boston Common to West Roxbury pays big political dividends.

His poll numbers suggest that showing up for tree lightings, school openings, ribbon cuttings, award ceremonies, and store openings is part of the popularity he has built during 15 years in office. Fifty-four percent of respondents in a Globe poll in April said they have personally met the mayor, who had a job-approval rating above 70 percent.

Somewhere in City Hall, rumored mayoral hopeful Mike Flaherty is crafting a press release in which he says he will supervise the addition of lights to every menorah display in Boston. For all eight days of Hanukkah. Suck on that, Menino!

It Wasn't Chuck

I've tried to give Chuck Turner the benefit of the doubt. To paraphrase what John Tobin told the Globe when the charges against the Boston City Councilor came out, he always seemed like a passionate ideologue, not a money-hungry politician.

Unlike Dianne Wilkerson, who most people always suspected was out for Number One, what with all the nonpayment of taxes and alleged perjury and whatnot.

But, Chuck. Come on, dude. Your assertion that the photo stills from the FBI video might have been faked is really far-out. Even for you.

"I've seen some grainy photographs. I don't know if that's me. They doctor photographs," Turner told The Associated Press. "I know it looks something like me, but the reality is I haven't seen the real photo. There hasn't been an analysis done on the photographs."

Yes, Chuck, a photograph can be faked or altered. Jezebel has a regular feature about the nefarious applications of Photoshop. But it's usually used to remove a blemish or take a couple of inches off the hips, not incriminate an innocent victim.

But, hey, maybe Turner is right. I'm no Photoshop expert. Because if I were, I would have added the following items to the incriminating still in question:

• A dimebag of weed
• One of those goldfish you win at a carnival
• A chocolate donut
• The latest Miley Cyrus CD
• Deep Pockets' Christmas list
• A Rubber Ducky
• A bootleg copy of Twilight

In closing, I leave you with this. Because if I have it stuck in my head, so should you.

John Buonomo Is Gone, But Not Forgotten

This weekend was the first time I remembered to get off the train at Lechmere and photograph the sign outside the Middlesex Registry of Deeds offices. Now, that might sound crazy. But check this out.



Wait... who is register of probate?



Not so much. Which someone at the Registry of Probate knows, since they gave the sign the "out, damn spot" treatment.




Somebody's going to have to power-wash the hell out of that sign before the new guy takes office.

The custodian may also want to sweep the discarded condom wrapper off the front steps of the building too.

Shocker: Mitt Romney Wants to Be President

I'm happy to see that former governor Mitt Romney has gotten smart. Instead of using his own money to further his political career, he's collecting funds from like-minded conservatives through his Free and Strong America PAC. Ostensibly, he's supposed to be using this money for Republican candidates around the country. But the Globe reports Romney is spending most of the money to position himself for a possible run in 2012.

The former Massachusetts governor has raised $2.1 million for his Free and Strong America political action committee. But only 12 percent of the money has been spent distributing checks to Romney's fellow Republicans around the country.

Although the broadsheet paints some of Romney's mailings as misleading, anybody who donated to the cause because their funds would go to some tight state senate race in Idaho is a bigger ditz than Sarah Palin. Donors like Romney's politics (or his hair) and they want to advance his cause in any way they can.

If a few bucks land in Saxby Chambliss' lap, great. But, really, contributors want to see Romney sashaying around, carrying the conservative torch until the next presidential election cycle begins.

License to Booze

Aside from giving us the greatest undercover video still since Plunder Dome, the investigation into Dianne Wilkerson also revealed what restaurateurs have known for years—that the process of getting a liquor license in Boston is harder to figure out than a Rubik's Cube. And much like those jerks who claim to have solved the puzzle but really just peeled the stickers off, most people who succeed are cheating.

Erm, excuse me. Have hired a law firm that has an astonishing success rate with the Boston Licensing Board. Which is just further proof that the system is in serious need of an overhaul.

The Boston Municipal Research Bureau, a business-funded city watchdog, says liquor licenses should be handed out by the city with more oversight.

"Why not give the city the authority to manage it?" bureau president Samuel R. Tyler said.

Here's what the city should do—hire me as Liquor Czarina. I'll allow any booze-serving hopeful the chance to obtain a license. I will judge these purveyors of drunkenness on the same criteria as the lawyers at McDermott, Quilty & Miller, but I'll be working for the city and judging everyone equally.

And each establishment will have to bring a signature drink to me to make sure they're properly serving customers. I have a taste for everything from Narragansett Beer to delicious designer cocktails, so I'll make sure every cheap beer is served cold and in a can, and that the balance between mixer and liquor is appropriate. Everyone (especially me) wins!

The Economic Downturn Hits Matt Amorello

Dear Matt Amorello,

Dude. I feel ya.

Today's Herald reports that your estranged wife and a judge say you need to get a job. Your Missus reports that you haven't brought home a paycheck since May. You're deep in credit card debt. You might even lose your Wenham home. So now you're under a court order to apply for 15 jobs a week.

Are there even 15 jobs to be filled in the Boston area? We have been in a recession since December 2007, after all.

But Matt, I know you've been trying. You joined Facebook last month to start networking with old contacts. It's hard for any Republican in Massachusetts to get a gig right now, nevermind one with a history like yours. It may come down to the accepting the position the Herald's designers helpfully suggest—slinging fries at a fast food joint. (Though I'm thinking I'd take a job at Dunkin' Donuts first. I'm afraid I'd scald myself with burning oil at McDonald's.)

Keep fighting the good fight, Matt. I'll see you on the bread lines.

Best,
Amy Derjue

D.C. or Bust

If you're not willing to sleep on someone's sofa, then you clearly don't want to attend the inauguration of Barack Obama as badly as you claim. Today's Globe is filled with stories about the scads of blue-state Bostonians who want to be in D.C. for the big day, but may settle for a Hub-based party.

My motto? No sleep till Washington.

There's no reason not to head to the nation's capital for this historic event. Amtrak links Boston and D.C., so you need not even fly. And it's not like you'll need a place to sleep.

Here's what you do: Get to Washington on Monday night. Head to one of the bars or raging house parties that will doubtlessly be going until all hours of Tuesday morning. Grab a cup of coffee and stake out a place along the motorcade route early on January 20 and enjoy the spectacle. Hit another party that night, and catch some sleep on the first train back to Boston on Wednesday morning.

Sure, it makes for an exhausting couple of days. But with the terror attacks in India and an economy that refuses to stop sinking, it won't be anything like the sleepless nights that await President Obama.

Rhode Island Treasurer Caprio Woos Massachusetts Shoppers

Greetings from the state of Rhode Island! Since I've spent the past few days camped out at my mother's house, I've been watching our local news. Amid the stories of the latest record-setting blood alcohol content (kudos for not dying, dude!) is this interesting item.

Rumored gubernatorial hopeful and current Rhode Island State Treasurer Frank Caprio has installed billboards near the border of Massachusetts telling Bay Staters to spend, spend, spend on clothes in the Ocean State, since there is no sales tax on clothing here. He's even spent some of his campaign funds to create a website, which features a video of the too-tan Caprio giving potential out-of-state visitors the hard sell.

But Caprio is really reaching with this. Massachusetts doesn't have a sales tax on clothes for the first $175. After that, the Bay State only taxes on the amount over $175. So if you spend $300 on some astoundingly expensive specialty item, you pay only $6.25 in tax. Unless you live in Attleboro or drive a hybrid, you'll spend more on gas to get here than you'd save.

Also: Why aren't Rhode Islanders really angry that their treasurer is using this opportunity to raise some extra money to better his political career? Rhode Island is facing a budget deficit of at least $357 million in FY2009, and perhaps as much as $486 million for FY2010. Legislators on Smith Hill are preaching the same breathless rhetoric about needing new revenue as their cohorts on Beacon Hill. Why not start taxing luxury items in the Ocean State to make a few extra bucks instead of cutting services for those who can't afford a mink coat?

Caprio will argue that Rhode Island will collect the various meal and lodging taxes from shoppers who come to enjoy a break from the tyranny of Taxachusetts. But maybe he should stop playing governor and start acting like a treasurer. Most Rhode Island voters will be happy to watch the state get some revenue from those who aren't as white-knuckled as they are during this economic meltdown.

Ethics, Schmetics

In an attempt to wipe the tarnish off its reputation, the Legislature has several competing plans to improve the ethical behavior of its members. Some ideas, like six-year term limits for the position of House Speaker, seem wise. Others, like ethics training every two years, are a complete waste of time.

(Can't you just imagine the retro film strip now? It will be titled "Ethics and you!" And just like the classrooms of yore, nobody would care.)

But none of the plans seem to address the major issue that's kept people like House Majority Leader John Rogers in place, even in the face of serious allegations.

There's no one agency or person who's responsible for investigating and prosecuting all the ethical violators on Beacon Hill.

Secretary of State Bill Galvin keeps track of the lobbyists, but does not have the power to compel them to talk. That's the responsibility of the Attorney General. Martha Coakley has asked a grand jury to look into the dealings of Cognos "strategist" and friend of Sal DiMasi, Richard Vitale. Galvin has also asked her to investigate the work Joe Lally did for the software giant.

For campaign finance violations, the Office of Campaign and Political Finance investigates and refers any criminal activity to the Attorney General. The FBI apparently keeps tabs on those who would use their position to help secure a liquor license. All this inter-agency volleying seems like it would lead to a lot of dropped balls. Perhaps we need one agency to keep tabs on all the players on Beacon Hill, be they lobbyists, friends of politicians with business before the Legislature, or just a good old-fashioned crooked salon?

I'm sure Gov. Deval Patrick's 12-member ethics task force will figure it out at one of their closed-door meetings.

The Derjue-Turner Disadvantage

For single people in their twenties, Thanksgiving Eve is the time when they go out to their local townie bar with the few people they've remained in touch with during high school and get drunk. The thought occurred to me last night as I was emailing my former colleague, Joe Keohane, last night.

I was sitting in my Mom's house on Thanksgiving Eve, alone. Stone-cold sober. The people I still talk to from high school were out of town, and I feared to brave the dive bar alone. The only person lamer than me was Keohane, who was emailing while on vacation.

"Do a post about who's worse off, you or Chuck [Turner]," Keohane suggested. Hmm. The embattled Boston City Councilor and I both had a pretty tough week. It seems like a worthwhile experiment as I rest my stomach between Thanksgiving meals.

• Chuck Turner has the FBI meddling in his affairs.
• I had to deal with the less than cheerful staff at the Unemployment Insurance TeleClaim Center. Did everyone get laid off two days before the holiday? Because I was on the phone for an hour.

Disadvantage: Turner

• Chuck Turner spent the day before Thanksgiving handing out meals at a Goodwill in Roxbury with City Council President Maureen Feeney, who's looking to oust him. Awkward.
  
• I spent my day before Thanksgiving explaining to a classmate from high school that I'd just lost my job. At least Tom Brady and Gisele Bundchen were bringing sexy to Goodwill.

Disadvantage: Derjue

• Chuck Turner was caught with his fly down. Literally.
• ::Checks zipper:: I'm good to go!

Disadvantage: Turner

• Chuck Turner is viewed as a raving lunatic, except by his army of sign-toting supporters.
• Nobody has come forward to say as much about me.

Disadvantage: Turner

• Chuck Turner still has a job.
• Me? Not so much. (Email's on the sidebar!)

Disadvantage: Derjue

So there we have it. In a squeaker, Chuck Turner has had a worse week than I have. While I may not have an income for the time being, at least I didn't have to pony up a $50,000 bond. Just another thing to be grateful for on this day of thanks.

Recollections of Election Night

I didn't get to experience CNN calling the election for Barack Obama first-hand. Some friends and I had just left the Sonia Chang-Diaz celebration at the Alchemist Lounge (read the work blog here) to head to the MassEquality party at Club Cafe. We were fervently hailing a cab on South Huntington when a huge, boisterous cheer went up inside the bar.

Just then, a cab pulled up. As we piled in, we heard the muted voices of NPR, and asked our driver if Obama had won.

"Yes," he said. My friends cheered, and our Ethiopian cabbie joined in.

As we sped through the South End, the NPR broadcast continued, with several cheers audible from the studio. As one of my friends, who volunteered for Obama during the primaries, called her parents and cried happily, I thought about what we'd just experienced.

When I was a kid, I was told that anyone could become president, even a person of color or a woman. But it always seemed remote and impossible, like hovercrafts or the idea most people would one day own cellular phones.

Last night, I saw a man be elected not because of the color of his skin, but in spite of it. There was plenty of ugly race baiting throughout this nearly two-year campaign, but most Americans didn't fall for it. Instead, they voted because they think this awkward-looking guy will be the one to pull the country out of its many problems.

I've never experienced the mind-blowing elation that many Obama supporters exhibit, largely because I'm the hard-hearted cynical type that the president-elect railed against in his speech last night. But I hope that he can make good on the promises he's made to help the little people and make the presidency something other than the world's punchline.

Civic Doodie

Everyone from Brian Williams to your Mom has told you to get out and vote. If you'd indulge me for a moment, I'd like to add my voice to the chorus. Vote. I don't care what or whom you vote for, as long as it's not yes on Question 1. Because that shit is crazy.

Now if you need me, I'm going to finish watching SNL's pre-election show, go to bed, and crawl into a bottle of tequila until we've got a new president. But, hey, free coffee!

Hillary Clinton Has a Vagina, As Do I. So What?

Most of my political reflection has been confined to the work blog lately. But one thing that's been bothering me during my endless searching around the internet for Mitt Romney's latest misstep is the idea that women may feel like a traitor to their sex if they don't vote for Hillary Clinton.

Finally, I've found a story about how black women voters are sick of hearing about their internal conflict over who to vote for. CNN ran a story about black women voters who must be so torn about whether to vote along racial or gender lines. The reaction was quick, with one CNN viewer hitting it right on the head.

"Duh, I'm a black woman and here I am at the voting booth. Duh, since I'm illiterate I'll pull down the lever for someone. Hm... Well, he black so I may vote for him... oh wait she a woman I may vote for her... What Ise gon' do? Oh lordy!"

I can't speak for a racially motivated vote, but Hillary Clinton's gender doesn't really matter to me. Yes, as a woman I'm happy to see a viable female candidate. But that doesn't mean she automatically has my vote. I'm still not sure who I want to have the Democratic nomination, but I'm going to decide who to vote for based on their stand on the issues, not by the candidate's genitalia or skin color.

It's Monday. Do You Know Where Your Civil Liberties Are?

No, you don't, because over the weekend they were further eroded by a new law that expands the domestic wiretapping program. All the fun of the old wiretapping with none of the pesky judicial interference or justifiable reasons!

First, the law requires telecommunications companies to make their facilities available for government wiretaps, and it grants them immunity from lawsuits for complying. Under the old program, such companies participated only voluntarily -- and some were sued for allegedly violating their customers' privacy.
Second, Bush has said his original surveillance program was restricted to calls and e-mails involving a suspected terrorist, but the new law has no such limit.

Okay, so that sounds bad. Surely there is someone responsible in charge of deciding who can be wiretapped?

As a check against abuse, the law requires Attorney General Alberto Gonzales and Michael McConnell, director of national intelligence, to design procedures for the program and to submit them for review by a secret national security court that normally approves warrant applications for intelligence-related wiretapping on US soil.

Well, Alberto Gonzales is such a bastion of justice and truth that this plan can't possibly be abused. Even though there's a provision that allows dirt found about American citizens to be kept if it could be evidence of a crime.

If you need me, I'll be deleting old incriminating emails and learning how to use a carrier pigeon to keep my messages private.

Said I Think I'll Go To Boston, Where No One Knows My Name

Like the many Rhode Islanders before him who turned to Massachusetts to get away from the smallest state in the union but still be close to home, Vincent "Buddy" Cianci is moving to Boston. Once he gets out of the pokey, that is.

Former Providence Mayor Vincent "Buddy" Cianci will work in sales and marketing at a luxurious Boston hotel when he gets out of federal prison on corruption charges, The Associated Press has learned. . . .

"He's going to have an office right inside the hotel. He's obviously an expert in sales and marketing. Look what he's done for downtown Providence," Regan said. "We think he'll be a great addition."

I am shocked, shocked, that Buddy isn't going to run for mayor of Providence right away. Buddy still has so many supporters in Rhode Island that I'm relatively sure they'd lobby to have a special election between Buddy and Cicilline and that Buddy would win in a landslide. Even my mother, who hates Buddy Cianci, has started laughing at his shenanigans before cursing him as a low-life thug.

Can you imagine Buddy Cianci trying to sell you something?

"Hi. I'm Buddy Cianci. You may remember me from such convictions as my 1984 assault using the very original combination of a lit cigarette, an ashtray, and a fireplace log, as well as my 2001 host of work, including mail fraud and conspiracy. All of this crime led to Providence, Rhode Island's revitalization, and now I'm here to revitalize your weekend with a stay at Fifteen Beacon, Boston's newest luxury hotel. In the shadow of the Massachusetts State House-- that I do not gaze at every day, tapping my fingers together like Mr. Burns, planning my domination of New England's most populous state-- you can stay in the lap of luxury. And, as long as you don't tell Taricani, I'll see to it my cousin has a real luxurious lady in your lap, if you know what I'm sayin'. So give me a call back, and we'll work somethin' out that's agreeable to both of us."

Yes, it's going to be a boon for business for Fifteen Beacon. Not only do I get to celebrate my birthday on July 28, I get to celebrate Buddy Cianci's release into society. Marinara sauce for everyone!

Doucheblog

The internet is the cesspool of the modern world. For every useful website, for every awesome blog like the ones on my sidebar, for every Amazon.com shopping cart full of cheap stuff, there is a child molester, a credit-card scammer, and a political blog.

I don't mean a political blog like mine, which I've been told is political but I don't know how political my hatred of leggings is. I mean one run by an actual politician's handlers, with "content" actually generated by the "candidate." From MySpace profiles with Hilary Clinton to Howard Dean's famous 2004 grassroots action, politicians are encroaching on what was once only a den of hipsters and perverts. And me.

I'm pretty sure I've discussed Mitt Romney's MySpace page before. However, KCee just alerted me to Five Brothers, which is Mitt Romney's progeny's home on the web. (Why they didn't name it Mitt Romney's Progeny is beyond me.) The Romneys, Mitt and Ann, and their boys Ben, Craig, Josh, Matt, and "Tagg" (I use air quotes because COME ON) write about their media appearances, Mitt's values-based campaign, and how tall they are. No. I'm not kidding.

OK, I admit that Matt and I are actually each 1/4" short of 6', but we've always felt better about rounding to the nearest inch. We don't know why the other 3 brothers got all the height, and we are definitely bitter about it.

Well, thanks, "Tagg." I'd be pissed if I weren't quite 6' and my name was Tagg Romney too.

Here's Ann Romney's attempt at a MySpace picture.


Mitt Romney also forces his children to hide their location from him.

As a high school and college student, my Dad developed a reputation for being a great practical joker. His sons have all heard the stories now dozens of times. Believe me, you don't want to get him started.

I had heard the stories so many times of funny things he did to relatives on their wedding days that I went to great lengths to conceal the location of our hotel reservations on our honeymoon. I actually made reservations at 2 separate hotels and left a confirmation letter I received from the second hotel somewhere I knew he'd find it. My wife thought I was crazy, but if you had heard the stories, believe me, you would have done the same thing.

Can you imagine if you were gay, young Tagg? First of all, your first name would be especially cruel given some of the potential rhymes. Also, you'd be trying to hide your legally acquired marriage license from your anti-gay father. "No, Dad, I married 'Roberta!' See? Here's the certificate! No, the 'a' isn't in my handwriting!"

You go to Mitt Romney's Progeny for the height/weight stats, and stay for the unbiased political commentary, replete with an Apprentice-level of sports metaphors.

Wow. Dad was awesome tonight. I know that I'm biased, but, come on, that was a clear win. He looked presidential, articulated a clear vision, and was able to showcase his strength and his grasp of the issues. He was himself and it came through.

In my opinion, it was a lot like the fundraising efforts of the first quarter. Some of the other candidates did a respectable job, but Mitt Romney brought an A game and knocked it out of the park. It's clear to me who the Republicans should want on the stage to debate Hillary or Obama if we want to win.

I really hate this "he looks presidential" argument. First of all, they all look presidential compared with the bumbling fool who currently occupies the office. Secondly, Hilary Clinton doesn't have a dick, and that's had a lot to do with "looking presidential" as well. I can see why we're on a looking presidential kick after the failed "he's an everyman!" experiment, but let's get someone who has an actual thought rattling around inside his or her head this time around. Mitt Romney doesn't follow his head, or even his little stone heart. He follows what he thinks will get him the most votes. Look at his record. He's vacillated so wildly in his opinions from election to election. It's clear that he's banking on looking and speaking smooth. And we've seen where that gets us.

I see why politicians use blogs and MySpace and all the "social computing" that businesses have yet to figure out. It's like kissing babies of people who don't yet have babies. It puts a politician on a human level and makes them relateable to the coveted and unpredictable younger voter. However, it also smacks of opportunism, which is what it really is. Instead of campaigning on ideas, Mitt, and, to be fair, the other candidates, hope to pick up votes by simply being themselves. It also allows someone else, namely Mitt's children, to do his relating for him. I mean, Chelsea Clinton doesn't have a blog extolling her mother's virtues.

So add Mitt Romney's waste into the cesspool of the internet. Try to stay on the other side of the bowl, folks.

Confessions of a Broken Mind

Dear New Work Orientation:

You win. My brain is full.

Owie,
Amy

. . .

End. Motherfucking. Times.

Hopefully, the data is flawed.

Romney's rivals, however, attacked the poll's credibility. They point out that Survey USA used computers to phone voters and ask questions rather than the industry standard of live operators, and challenged the poll's result that only 3 percent of the electorate is undecided -- a substantially low number compared with other recent New Hampshire polls recently.

Still. A journey of a million bad decisions begins with a bunch of rednecks with phones.

. . .

I am PSYCHED that Paris Hilton is going to jail. PSYCHED. I am naive enough to believe that maybe her brain and ethics will grow three sizes in jail. I am practical enough to know this isn't going to happen, but I'm an optimist.

. . .

I need a drink. I'm leaving now.

Bush Is Wacked, and So Am I

President Bush is ruining my dating life.

. . .

Let's say I meet a guy. Kinda cute in an affable way, with a twinkle in his eye and an accent. He gets me with some sweet talk, and I agree on a date. The guy's charming, pulls out my chair, asks me about my job, and pays the tab. I call my friends and tell them I think I like him. They squeal with delight for me. After a few more dates, I elect to make him my boyfriend. Once he gets that title, things get odd.

He starts picking fights with random guys who check me out. There was this one night which was really terrifying, when these two guys started hitting on me when Affable Guy was in the bathroom. They were ruthless, pulling at my clothes and groping me. A third guy was coming at me until some of his friends headed him off at the pass and pulled the other two guys off me. When Affable Guy came back from the can, he looked dumbstruck as I explained the situation. After ten minutes, he dragged me out of the bar, fuming mad and eerily quiet.

At first, he started beating up Irish guys who hit on me. He'd catch one follicle of a hairy eyeball and then his fists would be flying. It was a couple of drunk Irish tourists who skeezed me out that night at the bar, so I guess it made sense. But shortly after that, he branched out. Italian guys. Latino guys. Middle-Eastern guys. He especially hated those Middle-Eastern guys. When he was calm at home, he'd tell me he was preemptively defending my honor. I told him he should maybe rethink this. He'd roll over and go to sleep and murmur things about his daddy.

Once the assault charges started rolling in, I told him he needed to stop hitting people. But he wouldn't ever say he would. He'd say he'd think about it, that he hoped he could some day stop hitting people preemptively, but while there are guys out there who want to ogle my ass, he can't stop his war on pervs. I said that I have a nice ass, and probably people would always want to look at it. But he said that he couldn't stand for that. I started leaving a diary of his craziness in my desk drawer at work in case I went missing.

Finally, my friends sat Affable Guy down and had an intervention.

"You've got to stop this. You're hurting so many people," my friend Nancy said.

"No sir. Can't let Amy's freedom be limited by the forces of lust."

"But Amy doesn't want you to keep defending her," Barack added. "She can fend for herself with some training. Maybe a self-defense class?"

"I can't leave her abandoned in a time of need. I have to stay the course."

"Maybe you can defend her when she goes to seedy bars until she knows how to knee a guy most efficiently in the groin? Trust me, women can learn that," my friend Bill said with a laugh.

"Stay the course. Not fair to her if I leave. She wants me here."

"No I don't," I interject.

"She needs me here."

"No, actually, I don't. All I need is a locksmith to keep your crazy ass away from me."

Affable Guy finally let out a sigh. "I hope we can reach a common ground, Amy. But I am not going to stop defending you. I can't leave you without financial and personnel support. But I'm open to compromise on how to deal with this impasse."

"You mean, aside from admitting you were wrong to hit all those people?"

"Right."

. . .
It's going to be a tough row for us to hoe, ladies.