I look to your weekly as my one-stop news source for edutainment and the hit-or-miss nuance that is The Perry Bible Fellowship. That being expressed, you could imagine my surprise when I read the April 25 entry for Oh, Cruel World! (“Dear guy who shook up a beer and sprayed it all over the bartenders at Middlesex”). I immediately called my cousin and told him that his actions @ Middlesex that night were etched in editorial infamy due to said grouse (and by “grouse,” I mean “plump chickenhead”).
Which brings me to you, Ms. Griper. I was the guy who asked your docile male companion if we could get some space @ the CROWDED Middlesex bar so we could order some drinks. It was YOUR mate who reasoned it would be a wise decision for you guys to move, but instead of leaving with your drinks, it most likely was YOUR idea to shift your barstools just enough for my cousin to squeeze his right arm, incidentally holding his beer, onto the bar. Only after my cousin’s repeated attempts at gesturing with his right arm for the bartenders’ attention did he yell, “Hey, you!” Once we noticed that he deliberately avoided us for other thirsty patrons who came after us, is when he caught the shake & spray.
Now, I could have used a clever adjective to describe your kind of snobbish false sense of privilege and uppity type of persona your “posse” portrays. Such as: crackers, trailer park, white trash, white bread, honky, etc. But my experience since moving to Cambridge from Boston changed all that.
That is, until I read your reference to me & my dudes as being ghetto. Well, you’re absolutely right! Because in the ghetto, if you’re not getting your just due, you have to take it. Especially when those that act as the establishment in the ghetto also act as if they own the place.
Hey, we just came to party. Get the facts straight. You weren’t bullied. You didn’t call my cousin an asshole. We most certainly did get the attention and faster service from the bartenders. And NO ONE tried to grab ya flat ass, as it ain’t worth the uptight, stank twat you sit on.
Keep dreaming, BEEYOTCH!
P.S. Shout out to Mark Poutenis. Perfect detail, wrong complexion.
We need skills, not philosophy degrees
Excuse my punctuation and spelling. I do not have a B.A. (thankfully).
I’m just writing to praise you for the article you wrote in the Weekly Dig, “Working Class” (4.18.07).
I went from a voc school in high school to an art school in Boston, where I only have a Cert. So I see your view and the points you’re trying to make and can relate and agree with your argument on my personal levels.
I only wish I was a teacher in a B.A. program so I could have my students read said article.
This will be an article I will be pulling out of the mag and putting in my scrapbook.
It was really nice to see your article on trade schools. I have to say that, on the way into my own cushy job at BU every day, I feel more respect for the guy jackhammering the sidewalk than for any given kid on the street, sweatpants tucked into her Target rainboots.
However, I was disappointed when I first saw the cover claiming that “voc/tech kids are smarter than” we Dig readers. As if these are two mutually exclusive categories … That’s a sad assumption; let’s hope it isn’t the case!
We love art, not tuition
I was shocked to see my neck of the woods make it to the Dig This spread of this week’s Dig (4.18.07). The artist’s work, a picture of upper Comm. Ave. on the BU campus, was like a Where’s Waldo? of comedy, except at the end I wasn’t a 12-year-old (if I were, I’d be reading the Metro).
Thanks for making me laugh, because similar to what the banner proclaims in your picture, BU will be taking over my bank account until I turn 1,839.
Keep it up, and don’t listen to those heartless bastards who think you’ve gone soft, Mike. The Dig is as good as ever.