How the Midwest's stupidest sport is taking Boston by storm
When I left Chicago for Boston three years ago, I expected to leave a few things behind. Friendliness, for one, and deep-dish pizza, and modernist architecture, and perfect hot dogs, and . . . cornhole.
Mikey Connors of Peabody growls at his opponents from across the folding table. Whipping the crowd into hysterics, the beer-pong heavyweight steps back from the edge and starts to kick his heels up like a bull about to charge.
Because you can only spend so much time reading Dan Brown novels on the beach
Midsummer television has a terrific offering of new and returning shows about aliens, firefighters, crystal meth, and more to turn that beautiful brain of yours to Play-Doh and keep you thoroughly entertained.
The Elvis Presley–themed musical All Shook Up has all the makings of an entertaining train wreck: a bunch of Elvis songs strung together with inane dialogue; silly characterization; an implausible plot.
Summer art in New England means driving up Route 1 in Maine with the car windows down, past the odd and amazing roadside metal giraffes and caterpillars, and discovering — as I did a few summers back — a nondescript house that turns out to be Fawcett's A
Summer in Boston traditionally means exploring the city, getting sunburned, and ironically (but totally seriously) drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade. But now that meals-on-wheels mania has put the boot on our fair city, it also means chasing down every foo