Ghosts of Stephenheads Past

1. Corporate Death

The funeral procession trudged it's way up to the twenty-third floor. We strapped Simpson's corpse into his favorite swivel chair, opened the window and tossed him out. Someone rolled up an old fax and blew the Last Post through it. A nice touch. Respectful.
On these occasions it is generally a good idea to attach a large company logo and other promotional signage to the body as it plummets to the ground: why not achieve maximum exposure for your business during this time of grief? Remember, just because a human has died doesn't mean they can't still be a Human Resource.
It is also worth recording that it was elaborate preparations for death, neat embalming tricks and building pyramids that kept the ancient Egyptian economy solvent. Who cares if they extracted the deceased's brain through the nose with a pair of primitive forceps. These people knew the value of good product branding.

2. Travel and Tourism

In olden days, our ancestors grazed cattle on Boston Common. And they still do, considering the bovine expressions on the faces of many people wandering around the area today. Until 1817 public hangings were held on the Common, also. And again, you would think they still are, judging by the lifeless bodies sprawled on the benches thereabouts. The gallows stood on the exact spot where tourists with camera straps biting into their necks now ask directions to Quincy Market.
Stroll along the shaded, junky-lined avenues of Boston Common, and up above the treetops you can see the gleaming, golden tit of the State House. And I am sure the red-nosed people in the State House must be able to see you. Which means that those Irish Whisky drinking politicos in the State House can also see the poor, neglected Brewer Fountain (1868) that sits forlorn and neglected on Boston Common covered in pigeon shit.
No water flows through the Brewer Fountain this summer. A great shame since the fountain has three beautifully decorated tiers. Around the base are excellently sculpted bronze figures of four Classical figures: Neptune and his wife Amphitrite, and the lovers Acis and Galatea. At the moment they look positively suicidal. And no wonder, they are forced to stare into a bone dry and empty basin that is full of litter and still stinks of last years vagrant's urine. This fountain has not been cleaned in how long?
Far too long, obviously.
I sincerely hope Mr. Brewer is not rolling in his grave, but I'm almost certain he must be. Why donate beautiful things to the city if the authorities will not take care of them? Whoever is responsible for the upkeep of public monuments in Boston should be drummed out of whatever miserable organization he or she belongs to.

3. A Fistful of American Express Traveler's Checks

It is summer, and the tourists here in Boston have gone into heavy sunburnt, bleary-eyed rotation. Personally, I love tourists. It is nice to know that people want to visit the place you live, and I like to think I benefit in some small way from the money they bring into the city. However, since I live just down the street from the laughably named "TV's Cheers pub", I spend a lot of time advising people not to go there when they ask for directions. Although the exterior of the bar is the one seen on television, the interior is completely and utterly different in all respects.
One thing I have observed about tourism is that language phrasebooks are absolutely worthless. You spend hours locating the phrase you want to use and learning the correct pronunciation, then you speak it to the man in the hotel, and he answers you in the same language with sentences you have no hope of understanding - consequently the poor hotelier must act out his reply with gestures rather than words, or grab your phrasebook and locate the appropriate response which he then has to point out to you.
Can you imagine travel tourism in the future?
"I like to pack light: rocket boots with special Dr. Scholl's Ejector insoles; two silver togas, one with a red flash insignia for evenings; a utility belt and ray gun; and a Mars-Earth phrasebook chip implanted in my cerebral cortex. Many travel agents advise that it is a good idea to arrive at the launch pad eight weeks before blast off. That way you have plenty of time to undergo Anti-Gravity training before your departure."
Tourism in ancient times was just as bad. Romans were a neurotic group of travelers, they would never depart for a journey on a Tuesday since it was deemed bad luck to do so, nor would they leave at the end of the month for the same reason - unless, of course, the entrails of a sacrificed chicken augured differently.

Comments

[KHH]

My folks (originally from Worcester am I and the rest of my ilk) are in Boston now. Can't wait to hear their report.

As far as cleanliness goes, how do you expect them to keep the city clean when the janitors are the sons and daughters of the councilman.

True story: a good family friend was part of the local Democrat party machine. Both his sons were part time janitors for the county jail. By part them I mean they'd clock in a hour each day, but get paid $20 an hour for about 4-5 hours a day. Most of the time spent reading books or magazines.

The funniest story I heard (and unsure if it's true) but the doorman or one of the main workers for the Boston legislature was found to be making $50,000 to $60,000 a year even though he lived all winter in Jamaica.

All I know is that for all the time I spent in Boston as a kid my dad never took me to the Boston Garden. God I wish I had gone there. Hope to get back to Boston for the first time a decade this year. Keep it clean for me.

[Tonya]

Of course.