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PublishedApril 22, 2012
J.P. DEVINE: Marking time on Planet Earth
The first reunion, 10 years after we walked the stage, was held, I was told, in the old gymnasium that still smelled of sweat and old sneakers.
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PublishedApril 22, 2012
One last roundup
The first reunion, 10 years after we walked the stage, was held, I was told, in the old gymnasium that still smelled of sweat and old sneakers.
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PublishedApril 15, 2012
J.P. DEVINE: No women? No J.P.
Many years ago, Arthur Marx, son of Groucho, was denied access to a Beverly Hills country club pool because, it was stated, he was Jewish. Groucho protested. "My son is only half-Jewish, so can he go in up to his knees?"
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PublishedApril 15, 2012
Inspired early to support rights
Many years ago, Arthur Marx, son of Groucho, was denied access to a Beverly Hills country club pool because, it was stated, he was Jewish. Groucho protested. "My son is only half-Jewish, so can he go in up to his knees?"
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PublishedApril 8, 2012
Style for the Masses
I’ll be in church this morning.
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PublishedApril 8, 2012
J.P. DEVINE: Mass transit
Behold this silver-haired devil in the pink and white checked shirt with blue summer blazer and pale-blue tie dotted with pink flamingos and thin titanium-framed violet-tinted shades, all propped up like a corpse in a Western saloon display, still waiting for God. Style is everything, is it not?
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PublishedApril 1, 2012
Now you see me … or do you?
As I write this column, the palm trees sway in the tropical breeze, the pale blue-green waves slip up the white sand and tickle my blue-tinted toe nails, as the beach girl hands me my margarita. Have you missed me?
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PublishedMarch 25, 2012
J.P. DEVINE: A country for old men
They sat at what most consider the best winter table, the big Formica-topped booth in the sunlight at a coffee shop outside of Portland.
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PublishedMarch 18, 2012
J.P. DEVINE: No more old men
It's here again. As I write this it's here, and as you read this, it's over. It's St. Patrick's feast day, that day when the first born on American soil celebrated by cooking up corned beef and cabbage, and when my grandfather slammed his beer glass down on the bar at Skeeter O'Neils and shouted, "Tell me again just exactly who it was who could afford corned beef?"
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PublishedMarch 18, 2012
Remains of an old Irish lot
It's here again. As I write this it's here, and as you read this, it's over. It's St. Patrick's feast day, that day when the first born on American soil celebrated by cooking up corned beef and cabbage, and when my grandfather slammed his beer glass down on the bar at Skeeter O'Neils and shouted, "Tell me again just exactly who it was who could afford corned beef?"
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