Peter Berdovsky (the one with the hair) is originally from Belarus. His mother's still there. YourArlington.com reports (scroll past the poll) on a benefit show March 8 to help her get out:

... While staying in the United States I have been finding out that most of my family in totalitarian Belarus have been dying one by one in mysterious circumstances. Now, only my mother is left from my close relatives.

"And the authorities have recently locked her up into a mental institution for not complying with them. She was facing an uphill legal battle to try to preserve her land and property and has made a decision to immigrate to Poland. ...

Bostonist reminds us what happened one year ago today, with an e-postcard sent out by one of the participants (hint) . Also, local artistes remember with LED art all over the city. The one saving grace: Couple the anniversary with the news that Bruce Willis is coming to Boston to film a movie about run-amok androids or something and it gives me a reason to run this great trailer again:

Mooninites! Boy, that's a word I was hoping I'd never have to hear again. But Associated Press did a whatever happened to? story on Peter Berdovsky, one of the Lite Brite boys, and the Herald followed up with its own story on how Berdovsky must be made to pay as hard as he can and now Geoff Edgers at the Globe is busy deconstructing what he calls "an exercise in journalistic knee-jerkism" and an example of why "why younger people are abandoning newspapers in droves" by the Herald's Joe Dwinell. He also provides a sample of the sort of art the Herald seems to imply Berdovsky should be making.

Meanwhile, over at Boston Magazine, Amy Derjue tells Berdovsky to just shut his yap and grow up already and sternly advises Boston City Council President Maureen Feeney, who wants to send Berdovsky to bed without any dessert, to stop being such an enabler.

Bonus inside-baseball fun fact: Edgers and Dwinell used to work together at the Middlesex News in Framingham (I'm also an alum of the paper, but don't hold that against me).

The boys have done some community service at Spaulding Hospital, they showed up in court all contrite and polite and stuff and so now they're free to go.

Greg Reibman reports the Walnut Street parking lot at amazing Newton North High School was shut down - and a state police bomb robot (and the mayor) brought in - after the discovery of several potential bombs hanging on a fence. They turned out to be backpacks advertising some Web site - with fake money attached:

Police are comparing today's bomb scare to the promotional gimmick which shut down much of Boston, Cambridge and Somerville in January.

A parent reports the school was not evacuated.

So the Boston City Council will consider requiring marketers to get city permission before "pushing products." Michael Femia thinks the Council needs some craft projects to keep themselves busy:

... Does this mean all the flyers on all the lampposts in Allston will be regulated? Signs advocating electing a new slate of City Councilors? ...

Does this mean everyone whose commercial airs on television within the city limits falls under the City Council's jurisdiction? And finally - and most importantly - can we preemptively revoke the license that allows Ernie Boch Jr. ads to run in the city? ...

If you only see one movie this year, make it this one (Bostonians will love the clip of Brian Williams reporting with the fake Boston skyscraper over his shoulder):

Rod Begbie is going around Cambridge putting Not a Bomb stickers on objects to make life easier for local bomb squads.

Earlier:
Bomb squad detonates traffic counter.
Mooninites.

If you get arrested for planting light-up cartoon characters and then hold a bozo press conference, don't count on getting the charges dropped anytime soon. If you plant what looks like a real bomb, but keep your mouth shut, you have nothing to worry about.

Jim Samples tells network staffers he's resigning because of the uproar here in the Hub, not because the stunt failed to lift ratings for the show.

Via John Cass.