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In the middle of a full-head-of-steam rant on how slow torture would be too good for the Globe's telemarketing department, because it keeps calling him no matter how many times he says he doesn't want home delivery of the Globe, Charlie summarizes every local newscast ever, so you no longer have to rush home from work to catch the evening news:

... An abandoned warehouse caught fire in some town you've never heard of, out in the 'burbs. Firemen are still fighting the blaze.

There's a big traffic jam downtown. If you don't have a downtown, then a trailer truck jackknifed on the highway. Miraculously, no one was hurt.

The big local murder/fraud/divorce/jaywalking trial is about to begin. Opening arguments are scheduled for next week.

Police are looking for a suspect in a bank robbery. Or a B&E. Or a liquor store heist. Details at eleven.

There was a house fire, somewhere west of town. A child/dog/pet goat alerted the family. ...

T workers packin' heat

On the way out of South Station, Jesse notices two T guys refilling the token machines:

... Pretty typical overweight middle-aged vending technicians: sweaty underarms, world-weary expressions, just workin' another day, you know how it goes. But wait, what's this? Nothing much, just pistols slung on their cheap navy blue polyester workpants! Pretty big guns, too.

I wonder if there's a hierarchy of vending weaponry. Slingshot for Little Debbie's snack cakes, Bowie knife for Mountain Dew and .357 Magnum for those precious, precious subway tokens. Here's the question: what kind of weapon do you get if you're replacing the condoms and assorted 'novelty' items in men's restrooms and truck stops everywhere? ...

Requiem for WZLX

Carl writes a long RIP for the station he says is just a ghastly shell of its once great self:

ZLX logo... If I have to listen to one more of the same five Lynyrd Skynryd songs one more time, I'll have to smash my radio. The same goes for the Allman Brothers, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, George Harrison, Bob Seger, Fleetwood Mac, the Pretenders, Elton John... in fact, I've just about heard the same five songs from every artist in their 'largest music library in New England.' ...

Doin' the Dunkin' Dance

Alison, describes the unique dance performed when people with coffee in hand and people just entering meet at the entrance to a Dunkin' Donuts:

... Rather than just let the exiters struggle, however, the enterers (is that a word?) generally hold the doors. Which results in the exchange of a little hip swing, a little twirl around, a touch of jazz hands with the cups of joe, and a heartfelt "Thank you!" ...

Really pushy

JW describes a battle of wills that starts at Porter and doesn't end until Park Street:

... 'Move into the middle. There's lots of room in the middle.'

I'm used to hearing this over the intercom as a reasonable demand from the driver, to whom I've tacitly given permission to boss me around. This time, however, I turned to see a short, suited man, sporting the token IPod headphones and Oakley sunglasses on his forehead, barking orders into the train. Then the deal-breaker, when he looked at a group of women standing in his way:

'Move, or I will push you.' ...

The animal-abuse lady of Coolidge Corner

Marc tries to interview the woman who stands at Beacon and Harvard yelling "ANIMAL ABUSE!" on Sunday mornings:

... I walked up to her and said, "Can I ask you a question?" She replied, "I don't have time for questions!" and went on screaming "ANIMAL ABUSE! SIGN!" When I didn't move she asked me to move out of her way, as if I was going to block her screaming. ...

Spending the night on Lyndhurst Street

At-large city council candidate Kevin McCrea spent the night in the apartment building being re-claimed from the druggies by the Rev. Bruce Wall. He reports on how easy it was to arrange a drug deal even with all the cops and media types everywhere:

... I wanted to find out where the drugs were coming from, and so I asked a couple people whom I thought were likely selling drugs and sure enough, in a few minutes time I had two guys competing for my drug sale. ... The hispanic guy told me that I could get whatever I wanted, that the woman gets everything delivered to her and I could have it there in now time. The black guy kept saying he could deliver the product quicker, he was just up the street. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I only had $10 bucks on me. ... You know you have a drug problem when a white guy in a black neighborhood can get whatever he wants on a street where its been publicly announced that there is going to be a neighborhood watch and an increased police presence.