What I’m glad to be rid of for a few months are the rude, aggressive drunks that plague this city every summer.
On December 14th, 2004, I wrote a heartfelt post about Boston’s homeless. “Heartfelt” is a bit of a stretch, actually. “Evil” would be a far more appropriate word. It seems a tad insensitive in hindsight, but that’s easy to say when you’re as far removed from life in the Hub as I now find myself. When you live downtown your suburban, ‘We are the World’ sensibilities are quickly worn away by endless begging, an omnipotent urine stench and constant verbal abuse from disappointed drunkards. I had a hard time scolding myself when reading this back today and will have to stand by my opinions at the time. Besides, it’s still pretty frickin’ funny.
“I sure am gonna miss you, Marmaduke, but it’s not every day you find half a bottle of A1 and a rusty hibachi in the same dumpster.”
Was that too much? Perhaps. There’s no denying the fact that Boston has a serious problem for such a small, tourist-friendly city. I’d rather all these folks were fed, warm and employed somewhere, obviously. Until that day I’ll have to continue to never give them money… and eventually die of a head wound from an airborne shopping cart.
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