In which our unpatriotic narrator wants to know where you stand on mandatory sitting on the MBTA, wonders why custodians are so unethical, and tries to exterminate the landlords.
In which our mannered narrator reveals the rudest city official, debates Socialism versus Bigamy, and appreciates that respect is a two-way street, albeit one under construction.
In which our MIA narrator wonders in one newspaper where to find another newspaper, questions whether people with wheelchairs really need street poles, fakes a faker, wants to shape up the shape of the Rec Dept, and questions the best way to strap a baby to a bike.
In which our inebriated narrator asks readers to follow the money, or at least the trash barrels, uses "air" "quotes" to discuss brothels, agrees that working class are suckery, and wonders whether the price is too high to complain about the Journal. Plus, MEGA-Meta Speakout!
In which our famished narrator mocks the faux Italiana of Olive Garden, christens Slummerville as Slummerville, is upset about political correctness (or maybe just Tim Tebow), and learns that the best phone etiquette is not to answer a call for help.
In which our sentimental narrator resolves to establish a memorial street light, wonders if real estate can be evaluated on "funkyness" or "boxing-ness," has trouble remembering a few simple words that we fought for (and over).
In which our unmemorable narrator affirms that Local Fields are for Local People, introduces two new characters The Squirrel and Moneyball, asks questions that the Somerville Journal is too busy re-typing press releases to answer and offers to make the ultimate sacrifice -- sleeping with a prostitute.
In which our frazzled narrator secretly says a naughty word, asks for a PR firm to respond to criticisms, thinks about who should be blamed because Somerville lacks the retail razzle dazzle of Medford, and finally asks that you leave poor, unfortunate mobsters alone.
In which our frazzled narrator discusses the Armory's armor against accessibility, asks an Alderman whether fries go with that shakedown, proposes a reconfiguration of the City and wonders how Capen Court succeeded in syncopated urine smells.
In which our uncertain narrator threatens to expose a former drug user, hates on the Wal-Mart haters, imagines the tele-novelas that Speakout callers might be watching, and wonders whether bean steaming is an inappropriate or appropriate euphemism. PLUS, Meta-Speakout!