Gotham City Networking, which brings together "service-oriented professionals," now has a Boston chapter.

Via TJIC, who reports on his first meeting.

Mr. D is in major de-clutter mode and is trying to figure out if he should keep or get rid of a variety of items he's bought for the classroom over the years but never used, including a disco ball:

... This is the sort of novelty lighting you buy at Spencer's in the mall. I've always had this vision of roller-skating around the classroom with disco ball going, and what a memorable moment that would be, but I haven't been able to come up with any legitimate reason for doing so. ...

Can you?

Erin McElveen details the case of David Donatelli, an executive at our very own EMC, who left for a better deal at California's HP, only EMC sued and now he can't go because of a non-compete clause in his contract, which is legal in Massachusetts but not in California.

And yes, of course, there's a bill to outlaw non-compete clauses in Massachusetts.

Folio reports that Boston/Framingham-based IDG today cut 8% of its US staff and smushed all of its business-to-business publications into a single unit. This comes atop 10% pay cuts for B2B employees last month.

Paul Conley (who actually broke the story), discusses.

Ed note: If anybody needs to hire an outstanding online video and audio editor suddenly free of his previous responsibilities, let me know.

The Crimson reports on preparations for faculty buyout offers at Harvard.

Candelaria Silva discusses the dead-man-walking phenomenon and other aspects of getting let go in these times.

Mandatory week off without pay all around, the Boston Business Journal reports.

This morning, apparently. Anybody know more?

Mr. D recounts fail moments, from seeds that won't germinate in wet paper towels to the student who showed up covered from head to toe in his own feces.

Tom LeCompte recently became a Boston cab driver. He's blogging the experience:

... Then, from the back, I heard bodies shifting in the seat, the sounds of murmuring and kissing, of clothes being pulled at and unbuttoned. I glanced up at my rearview mirror, but saw nothing. They were clearly taking advantage of the rear seat couch.

"Say it," she whispered.

"Huh?"

"Say it," she repeated, followed by the sounds of more kissing and some slurping noises.

"Never," she said. "Never ever leave me."

The goings-on in the back were becoming a serious distraction. I really needed to fixate on the road. But soon, I was faced with another problem: I didn't know where I was going. I was hoping these two would finish up so I could ask for directions, but after another couple blocks I couldn't wait.

"Excuse me," I interrupted at the next stoplight. "Can you help me out with some directions?" ...