I’m from Massachusetts. I grew up in a small town outside of Boston, about 30 miles north. When my family would visit relatives in Pennsylvania they would ask us, “how’s Boston?” We’d scoff and say that we didn’t live in Boston. We were snot nose kids with dirty fingernails who’d just traveled 15 hours in the back of a truck.
But, the truth is, when you grow up near Boston, it’s kinda Boston. Most in our general vicinity are born with this special attribute of being “in on the joke,” filled to the brim with sarcasm. Most of us. It’s dickish, I know. And the accent. What’s unfortunate is that they always get it wrong. Unless you’re from here. We always watch the movies and make loads of fun of it. The Perfect Storm of terrible. And there have been a lot over the last few years. It’s the tax credits. Usually about bank robberies, boxing, and bagpipes--with some hysterical woman with a gutter mouth and rippin’ butts. The obvious stereotypes. Thanks, though, to the Afflecks, and the Wahlbergs, and the Dropkick Murphys--all of whom seem to appear in most of those movies. The Fucking Departed. The movie about Whitey Bulger. I shouldn’t say that. The Jack Nicholson character modeled on the misdeeds of one Whitey Bulger, reportedly, and directed by Martin Scorsese. I will not even pretend. I love this stuff. No word of a lie.
But this isn’t a podcast about Boston, specifically.
What else? I am a Radio DJ. I foster and adopt dogs--mainly English Bulldogs through Long Island Bulldog Rescue. They handle the north east region.
Obviously, I am a true crime enthusiast whose decades of interest and useless knowledge has finally been put to use. I listen to a lot of podcasts. I know unnecessary details about things that make people uncomfortable.
Thanks for checking out the show. And lock your damn doors.