With a reminder that it’s Lent and you have to give something up, J.P. Devine reviews a litany of patron saints and the peculiar potency of religious jewelry.

Here's a list of television shows and movies to avoid if you want a restful evening, and heartwarming films you can download for comedic protection, from yours truly, J.P. Devine.

Does a desk define a man? What does the desk in the Oval Office say about the man behind it, and what curiosities does it hold that a desk from years ago did for me? asks J.P. Devine.

When J.P. Devine was a boy, basements were called cellars, and they were dark, dank places where things were kept and forgotten.

It’s enough to upset a breakfast of Cap’n Crunch, or a deep sleep, or a call to duty — but in Maine? J.P. Devine asks.

It’s everywhere and all it takes is a touch of a hand from a smiling clerk or a sweet innocent to catch — yes, that’s right — the flu, says J.P. Devine.

In a train yard near Lake Michigan, waiting for a bus in Manhattan, on guard duty in Texas, but never cold and afraid like the other day at 5 in the morning, says J.P. Devine.

Agent Mishka, who sounds a lot like J.P. Devine, talks with a fellow colluder in Hollywood about how well he’s settled in to his niche in Waterville.

After the bustle and warmth of six happy people on Christmas, quiet and cold descend during the wait for the phone call from those safely home to the two of us, just the two of us, says J.P. Devine.

As sure as the 9-year-old angel with cardboard wings who lives inside him, J.P. Devine says that he believes something happened 2,000 years ago that changed the world.