Who is the real story?

Iraq is a dangerous place. Ok, a very dangerous place.

The world has watched as troops are wounded, killed, and abducted. Every day, the liberal media churns out stories and news reports about roadside bombs, car bombings, and other IED's (improvised explosive devices).

The aforementioned slanted media reports on the explosions, violence, and the so-called "civil war" they claim is happening, but what about the real stories? How about writing an above-the-fold piece on every American soldier that is killed or has his/her life destroyed by a horrific injury?

But instead of remembering the lives of our American heroes, the left-wing media writes about its own. When ABC News anchor Bob Woodruff was severely injured by a roadside IED a few months back, I felt bad. I really did. But since when did the storyteller become the story?

In early April 2003, NBC reporter David Bloom collapsed while covering the Iraq War. He died shortly after of what doctors said was a pulmonary embolism, basically a blood clot that restricted bloodflow to his lungs. The media had a FIELD DAY with this one. Hours of coverage, tribute programs all over MSNBC (or MSLSD as my buddy Mark Levin calls it), and countless newspaper and magazine stories. All of this for a reporter?

What about the brave American men and women who have died fighting for freedom? Has our biased media forgotten about them? Instead of writing about the IED's that explode in Tikrit, how about a nice piece on the 20-year-old kid that died while trying to rescue a comrade? Or about the 34-year-old father of two who was shot by an insurgent sniper while on routine patrol? Or, heaven forbid, producing a segment for the nightly news on the PROGRESS that we have made in Iraq?

When Jill Carroll, journalist for the Christian Science Monitor, was released yesterday, it was a great moment for everyone. She had been held for three months by an unknown group and it looked like she would not be seen alive ever again. But again, our not-so-straight media has covered her story extensively since news of her freedom was spread.

I am not trying to dishonor these people in any way. Journalists covering the war face danger every second of the day and I admire their courage and desire to seek the story. But please, do not dishonor the lives of our American heroes by doing nothing to remember their sacrifices.

-Jason

I am back!!!!!

Hey folks. The staff of Jason's blog is back after a two-week hiatus of sorts. Call it a "vacation," although I have only made about 5 bucks off this site so I can't yet call it my "job."

It is currently 4:15 a.m. and I just got back from work, so what better way to waste some more time than to write a column? Fortunately for you, my loyal readers, this one is brief.

I got some emails from some of you and others posted messages asking where on earth I have been. The answer is that I was right here all along, except I wasn't posting anything. You know how people say, "I have writer's block?" Like when I was a freshman in college and was trying to write a five-page paper on how to properly tap a keg ... while taking massive amounts of advil to relieve myself of the massive headache I had thanks to the previous night's festivities ... you know, times like that.

I no longer drink quite like that, but my point is, well, I actually do not know what the point of this is. I guess you could say I had blogger's blog writing block ... or something. Yeah.

I've actually been quite busy the last few weeks. I have a new lady in my life, who is absolutely wonderful, work has been crazy, and my sleep schedule remains in its random state. But not to worry, you can now feel better about yourself because Jason's blog has returned!

Expect a column in the next day or so. In the meantime, check out some of the blogs under my links section to your right.

-Jason

Blueberries anyone?

Uxorious.

Excessively fond of or submissive to a wife. Uxorious.

That, my friends, is the dictionary.com word of the day. Yes, I am a nerd for visiting this site. But I am a writer! If I am stuck trying to think of a better word than "happy," I click on dictionary.com and let it do its magic.

I remember from my days at the Boston Globe that some of the copyeditors would have fun with dictionary.com. If one of the writers used the word of the day in his or her story, that would be the greatest thing since the invention of the automobile. Or pastuerization. You get my point.

If dictionary.com ever has a word of the day I actually know, I will use it in this space. But uxorious? Never heard of that one.

-Speaking of the Boston Globe, I have a funny story to tell. I was working there on a Sunday morning one autumn day, compiling my high school football stats and players of the week. Having worked late the night before, I made a stop at Starbucks on the ride in to pick up some java.

After answering a few phone calls and entering some stats into my laptop, my coffee suddenly got cold. I decided to put my ultra-cool 'Bucks travel mug into the microwave located on the edge of the sports department because drinking cold coffee is like kissing your sister ... or worse.

Mug goes in, I type "2:00" into the keypad, and I walk away. But wait. What is that smell? It smells like ... smoke! Uh-oh.

I raced over to the microwave faster than any man has ever gone, opened the door, and peered in as smoke billowed out of the contraption. And then it all became clear to me. My coffee mug was made of metal and had a rubber bottom. Not a good thing to hit with nuclear waves. The metal flared up, igniting the rubber, and the ENTIRE newsroom floor (and trust me, it is a big place) smelled like burning rubber for the rest of the day. It took a long time before I stopped taking heat for that move.

-I have been receiving death threats recently from an old high school friend. Her name is Aimee Martin and she is quite frightening. Every night when I check my IM messages, there is another one from her.

"Still waiting for a blog about me" ... "When are you gonna write something about me?" ... "Nice column today ... too bad you didn't mention my name in it."

Fed up with this bombardment, I am finally mentioning her. And I'll tell you a few stories while I am on the topic. We went to the beach one July day back in 1998. It was hot. No, it was scorching. "It's a scorchahhh out there," the Bostonians were saying. Indeed it was.

Unfortunately for Aimee, she didn't bring her sandals or shoes with her. As we walked on the 376-degree sand to a spot where we could set up camp, she started yelling. "My feet! My feet!!" The sand was so hot that she burned the soles of her feet. No, I am not lying. I helped her back up to the wooden walkway to relieve the pain, but I could not stop laughing. Whenever I talk to her, I still make fun of her for that.

Another time, she was at my house with a few other other friends and I gave her some blueberries to eat. She was hungry so I was trying to be nice and give her something. But again, unfortunately for her, the blueberries were bad! I was not aware of this fact by the way. She spit them out into the sink and there was mold all over them. As bad as I felt about the episode, I found myself laughing hysterically once again. Good times Aimee.

I am proud to say our little friend Aimee is getting married in April and I couldn't be happier for her. I may show up at the after-party and crash it. Maybe sprinkle some less-than-appetizing blueberries onto the wedding cake?

-Jason

The greatest person I know

Since I created this blog in December, I've talked about my own experiences and things that amuse, anger, or baffle me. And I have enjoyed sharing my thoughts to you all.

But today, er, tonight, I have decided to write about something else. Someone I have not yet mentioned in this space, but someone who deserves to have an entire book written about her. She has done more for me than anyone else, and she means the world to me.

My mother.

I know everyone says this about their mother, but I will say it about mine: She is the best mother in the world. Caring. Supportive. Loving. A peacemaker. A role model. The list goes on. Mrs. D is the greatest person I know, and I want to thank her for everything she has done for me and the rest of our family.

I received a package in the mail yesterday from her, which completely surprised me. But I like surprises. It reminded me of my college days when she would send me care packages, cards, and postcards in the mail. Because we all loved to get mail in college! Anyway, I brought the package into the kitchen and examined its contents. There were homemade cookies, some pasta (wheat of course :) ) soup, mint milanos (one of my guilty pleasures), cans of tuna, pouches of salmon, and a few other things. Oh, and she also included a book I had asked her to send me.

Staring at all of these items on the counter, I couldn't help but feel so thankful to have a mother that cares about me this much. I moved away from Massachusetts in July 2005 and although I have only seen my family a few times since, I still feel like I live close to them. Sometimes I call my mother on the phone without anything to say ... I just like to hear her voice and say hello.

My mother's good deeds go beyond the family though. During the Christmas season, she is the director of the Holiday Helper Program in our hometown. This program provides needy families with food, money, and presents during Christmas. I remember over the years when I would help pack up boxes of food for each family, divide presents up for the children, and even make ribbons for plastic bags that held hats and gloves.

But it all goes back to mom. Ma. Mother. My mother.

I don't think I've said this to my mother in quite some time, so I'll say it here: I love you mom. You are the greatest thing that ever happened to me and I am so thankful to have you. Remember when I broke my collarbone and you stayed home with me? We played Dr. Mario on Nintendo to pass the time. How about the sinus infection I had freshman year in college? I drove home that week and you took care of me. Or when the Red Sox won the World Series and I couldn't get the champagne bottle open because I was shaking so much?

Your birthday is more than a month away and Mother's Day even further out, but I just wanted to say thank you for everything. Thank you for being you.

-Jason

RIP Edgar Stiles

The folks over at "24" have done it again.

As you all know, Jack Bauer is my favorite character on the show. Whatever danger he is faced with, he figures out a way to get things done. I've given him plenty of kudos in this space these past few weeks, so let's move on to what has been troubling me all night: Edgar Stiles.

I loved Edgar. We all did. He saved millions of lives in season 4 by shutting down the nuclear reactors before the terrorists gained control of them. As an intelligence analyst at CTU, he has played a key role in stopping the terrorists this season. Sadly, in tonight's second episode, he was killed when nerve gas was released into CTU's ventilation system.

I can't believe it. He was my second-favorite character on the show, along with Special Agent Curtis Manning. Edgar was a portly fellow -- ok he was fat -- but he had so much heart. He broke down in season 4 when he found out his mother was going to die in the nuclear meltdown near her home. Him and Chloe got along so well, even though Chloe sometimes had a strange way of showing her admiration. At any rate, Edgar was a great guy and I am going to miss him terribly.

Seeing him running toward the conference room tonight, yelling for Chloe, and seeing tears streaming down Chloe's face as she called out to him ... wow. I took that one pretty hard.

When the gas was released and the fan started blowing it into the air ducts, I had a feeling Edgar was doomed. He had run down to check on Kerry, who was last seen checking out some suspicious activity in the basement. When he stumbled upon her body, he obviously knew something was up. He ran back to the main level of CTU to save himself from a quick yet painful death, but he was too late.

I still can't believe it. One of the main characters on the show is dead, along with countless other CTU personnel. In a clip from next week's episode, it was revealed that the agency lost 40 percent of its personnel in the attack. What will happen now? With the surviving members of CTU holed up in the sealed-off conference room (and some still out in the field), what the heck can they do?

We love you Edgar. I know you are just a TV personality, but this fan will miss you. And I'm sure millions more will too.

-Jason

Coldplay

How long before I get in? Before it starts, before I begin?
How long before you decide? Before I know what it feels like?

Coldplay. MCI Center. March 2. Yeah, I was there.

Incredible show last night. My buddy Andy and myself secured tickets months ago to see this rock band from the UK, and believe me when I say we were not disappointed.

The set began at 9:30 p.m. with an aggressive version of "Square One," off their new album "X & Y." The lighting folks had a numbered countdown scrolling in the background before and during the song, making it that much better. The band followed with "Politik," from the previous album and a stalwart on past tours.

One of the more interesting songs was "Yellow," one of the band's early favorites. Huge yellow balloons fell from the rafters halfway through and when they were broken onstage by leadman Chris Martin, bright golden stars rained down. This, of course, was by design, as a line in the song reads, "Look at the stars, look how they shine for you."

New single "Speed of Sound" was next, followed by a mix of old and new tunes. One of the best parts of the show was a three-song acoustic set of Johnny Cash pieces the boys performed toward the tail end of the main set. "Til Kingdom Come," "Ring of Fire," and "Trouble" definitely took this show to the next level.

The first set closed out with an insane version of "Clocks," followed by "Talk." After a five-minute encore break, Martin (rhythm guitar, piano, lead vocals), Johnny Buckland (lead guitar), Guy Berryman (bass), and Will Champion (drums) retook the stage and performed for another 20 minutes. The highlight of the second set came during "In my place" when Martin jumped off the stage, sprinted down the left aisle, and finished singing the song in the middle of screaming fans at the other end of the floor seating area. "Fix You," a balad from the recent album, finished the show.

Martin's brilliance on the piano was amazing, and his guitar playing was rhythmic and flowing. Berryman and Champion held the band together on the rhythm side, and Buckland added guitar riffs and fills that brought life to every song.

Having been to numerous (more than 15) Dave Matthews shows, I am used to seeing 2.5-3-hour concerts. Last night's show was brief (95 minutes including encore break), but lacking excitement it was not. The intricate lighting added character to the band's aggressive but melodic style, and Martin's unpredictable onstage antics had audience members asking themselves, "What will he do next?"

This was my first Coldplay show and I assure you that it will not be my last one.

-Jason

A little off the top

I got a haircut today. Actually it was yesterday, but I just got home from work and today is now yesterday. Huh? Exactly.

Now that you're all confused, read on about my exciting 15 minutes at the Hair Cuttery ...

I strolled into the store, gave the front desk person my name, and was immediately called by an Asian woman named Phan. She was funny looking too; must have been atleast 50-years old, but her hair had been dyed bleach blond. Frankly, it wasn't a good look for her. Like, not at all. I thought it was a wig when I first saw it.

"How you want cut?" she asked me. I told her my standard directions to anyone who cuts my hair ... No. 2 blade here, No. 3 blade here, a little less than half off the top with scissors. Simple. Basic. Every time I sit in that swivel chair that moves up and down, I worry. Call me a metrosexual, but my hair is very important to me. I like it a certain way and if it is cut too short, it looks terrible. So whenever I give those easy-to-follow directions, I use my hands to demonstrate as I speak.

The cut started off fine, our friend Phan buzzed with the No. 2 blade and quickly moved to the No. 3. Then she rounded the back (as I requested), and touched up my sideburns. Oh no. The sideburns! I usually tell the stylist to leave my sideburns alone because I like to shave them and shape them to my liking. But something about that mini buzzer gets to the stylists. They all want to trim the 'burns just a bit.

Not wanting to offend Phan, I let her lightly touch them up. When I turned my head to the side to see her work, the left one was completely screwed up. Not straight and angled towards the ceiling, it looked like someone had snuck up behind me with an electric razor and put a big hole in the side of my face. Not to worry Devaney. I can fix that with the ol' Mach 3 later.

After a quick shampoo, Phan led me back to the chair and cut the top. And I have to say, she did a pretty damn good job. I was a little distressed after the sideburn mishap, but I tried to remain calm and have confidence in our little blonde friend. Is anyone else like I am? I watch those blades as if my life were at risk. I always worry about the stylist getting razor happy and cutting a huge line in the back of my head. Because if I was cutting someone's hair, I think it would be quite entertaining to shave my name in his or her hair. Luckily for me though, Phan staved off the urge.

The cut looked fine in the store's mirror, but what does that tell you? Nothing really. My hair was flat, still damp from the wash, and I was constantly itching at those tiny little hairs that stick to the back of your neck. No, these mirrors don't say much; the real test comes at home after a shave, shower, and some wax.

But alas Phan, my 15 minutes of trimming were a success. See you again in a few weeks. And FYI: I'd lose the blonde look.

-Jason