Megorious

So yesterday afternoon I was at Black Ink, a punny little kitsch store in Harvard Square, when I came across something disturbing in the children’s section, oddly enough above the floating ball game…

I’m not sure if the manufacturer or packaging design team behind the “rubber coated real” binoculars are aware that they’re peddling a product to kids “ages 6 & up” that features an accidental goatse.

Upon discovering said item I asked the on-duty clerks if they were aware that the gripping, spreading hands on the binocular box bared a striking resemblance to something unusual. This prompted one of the clerks to ask, “Are you being lewd, sir?”

Apparently I was….

Tonight we’re having our annual Halloween party at The Hamilton Palace. The theme is the Presidential Election — Jokerized!

Sleepy’s on Boylston St. in Boston had quite a mess on its hands this afternoon. “The Mattress Professionals,” as they call themselves, had the sidewalk in front of the store showered with fliers advising potential patrons to think twice before shopping there.

(more)

Why is it every time a conservative pundit or columnist makes an attempt at humor they fail miserably? (Hello, Anne Coulter.) Do their frontal lobes lack the humor-processing pathway, thus rendering them incapable of successful satire? Fox News tried out its own conservative version of The Daily Show but failed due to lack of viewership and, oh what’s that other thing — comedy!

Maybe their comedy quandary originated from jealousy. It’s a little like Middle Child Syndrome, but instead of being in the middle, they’re on the right. When people who have a passionate desire to make others laugh simply cannot succeed, they become bitter and disillusioned. They cling to guns and religion and lame quips they obliviously assume are clever. Perhaps what’s most pitiful is that they don’t even realize it; they just assume the audience lacks a sense of humor. Conservative humorists — an oxymoron if there ever was one — can’t be Stephen Colbert because, whether they realize it or not, Colbert is making fun of them and their warped belief structure. That’s why he’s funny. You can only laugh at something that’s tongue-in-cheek if it’s clever. It’s a textbook case of thinking people are laughing with you when they’re actually laughing at you.

Howie Carr’s column from the Boston Herald (of the Apocalypse) “Newspaper” — “Test: How to Tell if You’re a Moonbat” — is a fine example of a botched attempt at humor. It’s basically a lump generalization and somewhat offensive stereotype of liberals, especially those that reside in Massachusetts, as observed by the conservative right. The clinker is not meant to be taken seriously but it’s also nowhere near clever. The delicious tragedy and poetic irony is that Carr isn’t quick enough to understand that he’s not even too clever by half. His delirious sense of self-satisfaction and accomplishment should suffice. Poor little fella.

The fact of the matter is that people like Howie Carr and Anne Coulter think they’re funny, while people like Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert know they’re funny. The sad part is that those who think they’re funny don’t know the difference.

For those who don’t know, moonbat is to a liberal as wingnut is a conservative. The difference here is that moonbat is not recognized as a word in the English language. Wingnut, however, was recently added. I guess the “liberal media” extends to dictionaries now, too.

Midnight can’t come fast enough.

A horrible multiple vehicle accident resulted in fiery death yesterday and all the Bostonist could do was crack jokes:

Hopefully you’re reading this on your iPhone or before leaving work, because you might have a crappy commute home if you go by Coolidge Corner. A couple of cars were involved in a fiery wreck right in front of the Gap store on Harvard Street. Maybe the drivers were distracted by some really nice chinos on display?

Classy.

It’s not just that the joke was tasteless — it was — but it simply wouldn’t have been funny in any context. It was just a lame joke that lacked even a trace of humor. And under the circumstances it was a lame joke with no class and incredibly tasteless timing.

The author of the post later claimed that she didn’t know anyone was in the vehicle at the time and was only making the joke based on the information that the accident happened in front of The Gap. Even though the post was accompanied by the above image of fiery horror.

I was inside the Walgreens in Coolidge Corner when the accident happened and let me tell you, when I exited I thought all hell had broken loose down the street based on the smoke and the amount of fire trucks, cops, and ambulances that were on the scene.

For the record, according to The Daily News Tribune:

A 79-year-old Newton man was killed and a 52-year-old Wellesley woman seriously injured in a fiery three-car crash in Coolidge Corner Thursday afternoon. Five children and a 32-year-old woman also sustained minor injuries, according to Brookline Police Capt. John O’Leary.

LOL!

Today marks the beginning of my least favorite time in Boston: Patriots Day, better known as the day of the Boston Marathon. (As usual, I’m sure a Kenyan will win.)

While the weather is beautiful and will remain pleasant until the hot, humid doldrums of summer, I simply hate this time of year in this city. There are people everywhere, the trains are slow and overcrowded (more so than usual) with tourists and Red Sox fans. And of course, with the Red Sox, comes the incessant, mindless screaming of drunk yeah dudes and their babbling bitches.

Last night I had to listen to said screaming while trying to read peacefully. For more that four hours all I could hear was piss-poor drunken singing, and redundant cheers of, “YEAHHHHHHH!” and “WOOOOOO!” and of course, “FUCKKKKKKKK YEAHHHHHHHHH! WOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

I’m not even sure if a game was on or if they were just watching Family Guy. Either way, it went on well into the night and resumed this morning just before noon. Even now as I type this at 3:30 in the afternoon, I can hear some form of affirmative response screaming coming from next door.

It’s a pity really; the weather is so nice out and all I want to do is open the windows and let in the cool, dry breeze, but I can’t because if I did, the volume of yeah dudes and babbling bitches would practically put them in my home.

“My home, Elaine. My home! The place where I sleep and come to play with my toys.”

Is it just me or does the Green Line seem to be teetering on the eve on destruction?

I’ve been riding the Green Line for three years now and it has always been an unpleasant and bumpy experience. Lately though, I feel like we could go flying off the tracks at any moment. I guess the Charlie Card’s image of a man hanging out of the window of an overcrowded trolley car is an accurate artistic rendering, perhaps even a chilling foreshadowing of what’s to come?

This morning I was jostled around more than usual. It’s one thing to nearly fall over when standing up and not holding on to the rails but I was sitting in one of the single seats on an old train. We obviously tilted off the tracks somewhat because the entire car jumped. We were all tossed around like toys. The driver didn’t make an announcement or anything, we just kept speeding and bumping and flailing along.

It’s bad enough that they can’t spray some WD-40 on the tracks near Boylston Station — that screeching is both deafening and nauseating — but now we have to be bruised and broken as well.

Last month nine people were injured in an accident after two Green Line trains collided. Next time we all might not be so lucky….

I think the tragic irony of the following image says enough.

MBTA-OK!

Last week when Jackie and I went trekking through the snow over at Hall’s Pond Sanctuary, we came across a picture hanging from a tree. It was really creepy to just randomly stumble across something like that. It was obviously attached to the tree by someone, but for what purpose? Does anyone in the Brookline/Boston area have any ideas as to what this could be about?

I’ve seen a lot of snow since living in Boston but usually the big snow storms and blizzards have nothing but dry, useless snow - the kind of snow that can’t be used to make a snowball. Well, Monday’s snow storm dumped close to a foot of moist snow over the Boston area. Jackie and I went out to explore. I took a ridiculous amount of photos, which can be seen on flickr:
full set | slideshow

And then there’s this video….

Well, the Boston Red Sox have made it to the World Series once again - a fairly impressive feat considering they were just there three short years ago. Funny how before 2004 they hadn’t won the national championship since 1918. Then I move to Boston and they make it to the World Series twice. Coincidence? Probably. We’ll see how they do once I leave Boston next year. Either way i could care less…

I normally wouldn’t quote the irritating Jar Jar Binks but I feel that his heartfelt line from 1999’s The Phantom Menace is appropriate for this situation. People in Boston know how to party. They love to drink and they especially love to get rowdy. The riot police were already out after the Red Sox’s victory over the Cleveland Indians earlier this week. You can bet they’ll be out in full-force starting tonight and every night until the World Series ends.

Back in 2004, after the Red Sox beat the Yankees, more than 80,000 screaming, belligerently-drunk fans crowded near Fenway Park. As the crowd grew more unruly they began breaking things, climbing on cars and lampposts, and swinging from trees. And that’s how they behaved when the Red Sox won. Imagine what would have happen if they had lost…

Naturally the city’s riot police came out in full-force. That’s when Victoria Snelgrove, a 21-year-old Emerson student, was hit in the eye with a pepper-spray canister. She died several hours later.

Regardless if the Red Sox win or lose, here’s hoping the police and, especially the people of Boston, can control themselves by exercising enough restraint for the sake of preventing another needless tragedy.

Boston used to be a city where people died for a purpose. I wish I lived in that Boston.

So I haven’t been able to post lately because my psychotic roommate, Funnel Dick, has hijacked the router in our apartment. I’m not exactly sure what he’s doing with his learned Apple Genius® knowledge but he completely shuts the rest of us out of teh internets. He claims to be doing nothing. He tells me the router, which I purchased just a few months ago, is broken, but he tells everyone else in the apartment that it’s me that keeps shutting it off. (He has a tendency to do this a lot.) Yet for some reason it only happens when he gets home. How curious… This morning he did it again before I was even awake, unless of course I did it in my sleep. Maybe that’s it!

Many of you probably know Pierre Hurel, the professor - he teaches History of Jazz and French at Emerson - but did you know he’s also one of Boston’s most talented musicians? C’est vrai! Il est magnifique.

Pierre will be performing Wednesday, October 10, 2007 at Regatta Jazz Bar in Cambridge. He’ll do two sets, the first starts at 7:30. Tickets are $12. Complete details can be found on Regatta’s website.

“Hurel is one of Boston’s real gems. His style is impressionistic and adventurous, coming off somewhere between Bill Evans and Keith Jarrett.”
- Steve Greenlee, Boston Globe

More on Pierre:

• All About Jazz: Pierre Hurel Trio at the Regattabar, April 8, 2004
• Amazon: The Pierre Hurel Trio

I warned you all last week but no one listened. Now it’s too late. The terrorizing turkeys of Brookline have struck again. The Brookline Tab reports that a team of two turkeys terrorized those trying to enter the BU Grad School of Psychoanalysis.

Universal Hub has another account of turkey terror. Watch as these terrifyingly hot ladies fight back with Brookline’s secret weapon. (Brookline’s secret weapon can be purchased at any local Economy Hardware.)

More video and the gripping story of survival can be found on Carol’s blog.

Last April I wrote Cold Turkey, a true story about my encounter with a giant turkey, who I named Freedom, outside my apartment in Brookline on a cold, rainy day. Well, this morning Universal Hub reported that the turkeys are back out in full-force. A contributing photographer for the Brookline Tab snapped a slew of photos of a wild turkey as it chased some poor woman around her car after she got out to check on the status of said turkey. Apparently the turkey, who is at least half the size of the six-foot tall Freedom, was just lounging in the middle of Beacon Street.

Just last week the Brookline Police Department issued a caution for parents and children to be on the lookout for turkeys while walking to school. They offered the following (hilarious) advice:

· Don’t feed the turkeys — Keep wild things wild! Feeding, whether direct or indirect, can cause turkeys to act tame and may lead to bold aggressive behavior, especially in breeding season.

· Keep bird feeder areas clean — Use feeders designed to keep seed off the ground, as the seed attracts turkeys and other wild animals. Clean up spilled seed daily. Remove feeders in the spring, as there is plenty of natural food available for all birds.

· Don’t let turkeys intimidate you — Don’t hesitate to scare or threaten a bold, aggressive turkey with loud noises, swatting with a broom or with water from your garden hose.

· Cover windows or other reflective objects — If a turkey is pecking at a shiny object such as a window or car, cover or disguise it.

· Protect your gardens or crops — You can harass turkeys searching for food in your gardens. Dogs are effective in scaring turkeys away. Netting is another option.

· Educate your neighbors — Pass this information along; your efforts will be futile if neighbors are providing food for turkeys or neglecting to act bold towards the birds. It requires the efforts of many to help keep the wild turkeys wild.

I think it’s more obvious than ever that the turkeys are planning some sort of preemptive strike against Brookline before Thanksgiving. Unless we leave the turkey’s land now, we can expect a surge in turkey attacks in the coming weeks as the buildup to war approaches.

I’m up at six o’clock in the morning because Linus gave me quite the scare. I should probably go ahead and state that I wasn’t even sleeping when said scare occurred somewhere around 4:30. I was lying in bed, suffering from insomnia as usual, watching Picket Fences. That’s when Linus started to heave like he was going to vomit. He didn’t. No, instead he seemed to be struggling. Then he started acting ever so strangely. He was raising his head up and down and back and forth, not at all unlike a snake being charmed. There was a considerable amount of stringy drool dangling from mouth as he did this. I thought he was choking. And maybe he was. He does swallow anything he can get his cute little paws on. Just a few weeks ago he threw up a pen cap. It was blue. He seemed to be breathing just fine. And, after a quick google search for “choking cat,” I learned that he probably wasn’t choking after all. I also learned what to do in the event he ever chokes for reals.

This is the second time he has acted this way. He had another episode like this a few months ago. It was almost exactly the same. He seems better now, just a little more guarded than usual. Has anyone ever heard of such strange behavior from a cat? Maybe I should go see Dr. Kim.

He’s eating now. And I’m tired.

If you ordered pizza and received this barely lukewarm, sloppily made, sorry excuse for a pie in a trampled box, what would you do? In the last six months, the service at The Upper Crust in Brookline has plummeted. While the service has been on the decline, the level of incompetence and contempt for their patrons has increased.

After an unacceptable amount of consecutive bad experiences I decided to email the general manager, Patrick Joyce. He responded by calling me the next day. He was horrified by the experiences I had. He generally seemed concerned and wanted to make it up to me. He even went as far to give me his cell phone number in case I had another bad experience.

Well, just five days later, I placed an order for delivery and, instead of receiving a pizza, I got the saddest pizza you have ever seen. But it’s not that it was just a botched order. It was intentionally tampered with and questionable to eat. It was so sad that my roommates wouldn’t even eat it.

Now, before you say I’m overreacting, read the emails that I sent to Patrick Joyce. They’ll set up the scene a little bit better.

Read more »»

DISCLAIMER: This post is in response to those who felt it necessary to ruin “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” by screaming out spoilers. Feel free to READ the entire post as it contains NO spoilers whatsoever.

It’s Friday night, almost Saturday. Around the world millions of people of every age are lined up to purchase the concluding chapter in the biggest selling book series of all time. Perfect strangers talk to each other like best friends. Different generations mingle, and though they normally wouldn’t have a single thing in common, for this one night they do. That so many people could be this excited about reading is a testament to the power of words and the magic of writers everywhere. Only a loveless being, like Tom Riddle, would want to rob the world of that power. But Tom Riddle is merely a creation of fiction. Surely there can’t be real people who would try to maliciously ruin a book for children and adults alike.

In cities all around the country last Friday people did just that without remorse. They saw people who wished for nothing more than to exercise their imagination and tried to take that from them. Who are the biggest losers here? The people who wait in line on a Friday night to purchase a book, or the children who are so bored and lifeless that they have nothing better to do than to attempt to ruin said people’s good time?

In Harvard Square, which was renamed Hogwart’s Square for the evening, a pack of prepubescent goons decided to go and record their gay old time: See their video (WARNING: spoilers.)

For those who watched the video: it’s not too impressive, now is it?

For those who didn’t watch it and don’t want to be spoiled, you didn’t miss much. The intelligence level of those who made the video is laughable. They didn’t even bother concealing their identities. In fact, they thought boasting about who they are was the smart thing to do.

Zak Broman (yes, that is really his name) is his name and posing is his game. His cohorts names are Jeremy Sanderson, Tom Morang, Jordan Grillo, and “some kid.” They go by the name of “Tha KKKrew.” Charming.

But it’s Zak Broman who desires all of the attention. After all, he made sure to claim all of the credit by including only his contact information on the video. He doesn’t need the extra baggage of his boys. This is his play. He knows how America works and that cruelty can get you places fast.

Zak Broman and company went to Hogwart’s Square with a megaphone to shout out spoilers. It took about four tries to get anyone to notice them. The first attempt, underground in the subway station, was embarrassing, but you gotta hand it to them because that didn’t stop them. They had to get some attention so they tried again and again.

They spoiled a thing or two but nothing epic, at least not like the last book, and only to a few people. They failed and failed miserably. They knew they were failing too because one of the kids in the video decided to shout out, “Hogwarts Square is closed due to AIDS!” AIDS jokes: always the dark mark of desperation.

What’s really funny is that they couldn’t even succeed at being dicks. I mean, how incompetent do you have to be to botch something as simple as YELLING THROUGH A MEGAPHONE?

What’s the most pathetic thing about Zak Broman and his fagot of twiggy, emo/trendy hooligan chums is that they didn’t even have the balls to go through with their intended malicious act. Each attempt was executed from a safe zone where only a few people, if any, could hear their whiny emo cries. You can see it in the video. There weren’t hundreds or thousands, as they claimed, within an earshot of where they stood. They were too frightened to go up to the actual line of people or even to the front of the bookstore itself. All they needed, all they were there for, was to make the video look convincing enough so that they could upload it to sites like YouTube and ebaumsworld. Then they could be placed on a pedestal and given virtual handjobs by anonymous juvenile delinquents. That’s exactly what Zak Broman did.

First he had to edit the video by inserting necessary feeble captions to better explain what they were doing, since it wasn’t obvious in the video, and of course he had to insert some whiny music and a self-promoting Myspace shout out too.

Then, Zak Broman, you uploaded the video to YouTube and sat back, walloping in your own bile, waiting for the comments to role in. But you didn’t like all of the comments because some of them hurt your feelings; so you deleted said offending comments, leaving only the ones that made you feel like a man.

Then you used the power of Google to go ogle yourself and admire your handiwork. Eventually you ended up on LiveJournal, where someone posted a picture of your muggle-mangled megaphone. The comments there were spot on and cruel but you couldn’t delete those, so you decided to join in by showing your fray. (The thread has since been removed.)Naturally, you typed in ALL CAPS, (because that’s the kind of person you, Zak Broman, are) and resorted to a variation of the only derogative word in your vast aspiring writer’s vocabulary: “FAG.”

ZAK BROMAN HERE.
SORRY POTTERFAG, I GUESS I RUINED YOUR HARRY POTTER BOOK

ALSO, GOOD JOB DESTROYING A FIVE DOLLAR MEGAPHONE FROM SALVATION ARMY. I HAVE NO IDEA HOW WE’RE GOING TO REPLACE IT.

ALSO, HAVE FUN TRYING TO SLAP A LAWSUIT ON ME. I WAS CONFRONTED BY THE POLICE THAT SAME NIGHT, AND WAS INSTRUCTED THAT I HAD THE COMPLETE RIGHT TO FREE SPEECH, AND AS LONG AS I DID NOT INCITE A RIOT, EVERYTHING WOULD BE FINE.

I DIDN’T SEE ANY RIOT. JUST LOSERS LIKE YOU CRYING OVER A CHILDREN’S FANTASY BOOK.

oh, and thanks to douchebags like you, i’m now the top ten highest rated video on youtube.com

couldn’t do it without you.

And with that little rant of yours, you admitted to the world the only reason you did this in the first place: attention. You showed us all just how far beneath contempt you and those like you are. You’re so ignorant that you didn’t even realize you were expressing your right to free speech (much like I’m doing right now.) That’s the reason, other than being genuinely frightened by people dressed up as wizards and witches, that you guys hung back from the crowds; you didn’t want to chance getting arrested, even though you couldn’t. You had to be informed of your first amendment rights by a police officer, or so you claim.

Finally, you, Zak Broman, claimed to have made it into the YouTube top ten; joining the ranks of such fine videos as: Do-it-yourself dentistry, Play with Your Pickle with Mike Mozart, and a review trailer for a video game that existed before you were even born. Wow! Quite the dubious honor.

I did my homework. It only takes a matter of seconds to Google someone to find out everything about him or her. In this case, Zak Broman, the sausage kind of Wilmington, wanted everyone to know his name.

Since when did the epitome of cool become having a LJ? Zak Broman has a LiveJournal. Don’t people who like Harry Potter and people who have LJs go hand in hand? (I like Harry Potter and I have a LJ and I’m a dork.) He also has a website that has been “coming soon kiddies” since last February.

Ironically, Zak Broman wants to be a writer. As someone who claims to want to be a writer you above all should appreciate the power of literature. The Harry Potter series has turned a generation of kids and adults onto reading. Those who were nine when the first book came out in 1997 are now 19. They grew along with the story as it evolved from a children’s book to a coming of age tale of self-discovery. It captivated millions.

What you, Zak Broman, tried, but miserably failed, to take away from readers the other night taints any words you could ever possibly excrete onto paper. For you to have no reason for your actions, other than a piss-ass attempt at humour, makes you the lowest common form of human being. You appreciate nothing of the art of writing. The simple fact that you want to be a writer yet shit on writing as an art form makes you a hypocrite, not a hippogriff.

All of us Harry Potter fans need to stick together. If, and it’s a big IF, Zak Broman ever gets published, we must unite in protest at the sheer hypocrisy that he stands for by telling the world what Zak Broman, “the writer,” thinks of his craft. IF that day ever comes, watch for word by keeping an occasional mad-eye on your D.A. doubloon.

Since the Brookline post office can’t seem to get their shit together and deliver our mail in a timely and orderly fashion, I have to read The New Yorker online most of the time now. Frankly, it’s rather annoying. I paid for a subscription but haven’t received an issue in almost three weeks. And I know no one is stealing them because the people that live in my building (read: dumb bitches) only subscribe to celebrity gossip magazines and Crate and Barrel catalogues.

We’ve been having issues with our mail for quite some time. It started last summer when our mailman lost the key to our lobby door. (To this day our landlord, The Hamilton Company, still hasn’t taken action to rectify that issue.) Without access to the mailboxes, the mailman just leaves the mail on the front steps of our building for us to sort through ourselves. The mailman still doesn’t have a key but now our front door is broken and doesn’t lock (another issue The Hamilton Company hasn’t taken care of) but even with building access the mailman seems to only deliver mail two or three times a week. We’ll go days without mail and then one day open up the mailbox to find everything jammed and crumpled up inside. My Netflix envelopes haven’t been the same since. Magazines don’t fit in the mailbox so the mailman just drops them in the church pew magazine rack with all of the junk mail, and let me tell you, sorting through all that crap is a real treat. The other day, there was a spider.

Anywho, back to the original point of this post….
The New Yorker has a little piece by Simon Rich that’s quite entertaining: What I imagined the people around me were saying when I was…

Did you know that the United States Postal Service has no official motto? It’s true! The famous mantra, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds,” appears in the works of Herodotus and describes the expedition of the Greeks against the Persians under Cyrus, about 500 B.C. The Persians operated a system of mounted postal couriers, and the sentence describes the fidelity with which their work was done.
Now you know…

Two summers ago I had a run-in with the Coolidge Corner Animal Abuse Lady. Since then I have learned that no matter what, there will always be a craxy person yelling at people in Coolidge Corner. It’s just too good of a spot. I haven’t seen the Animal Abuse Lady in a while but that doesn’t mean there’s been a lack of yelling going on.

Meet Milton Kapner, aka Brother Nathanael. He was born into the Jewish faith before converting to the Orthodox Church in the late 1980s. He brings a whole new meaning to the term “crosswalk,” now that he spends his time doing The Last Supper big arms thing while screaming about Jesus in public places where people don’t want to hear it - anywhere. I’ve seen him in various spots around Boston but up until the other day, I always found myself without a camera.

You can’t miss him. He’s always dressed in black with a blinging big cross dangling from his neck and a big fuckoff beard right out of the bible. Besides his divinity, he welds two weapons of mass distraction: a giant crucifix and the most devout weapon of them all, the American flag.

Upon preparing this post I turned to Universal Hub, a Boston community weblog that carried a few of my posts in the past. I didn’t expect to stumble upon the mother load of information on Brother Nathanael. I never even expected to learn his name. I was wrong.

My path to righteousness, or perhaps the opposite (lefteousness?) started at the Overheard in Boston post, Trader Joe’s may not love Jesus. Apparently two days after I saw Brother Nathanael, he was at the Trader Joes in Brookline yelling at patrons. His Jesusantics did not go unnoticed and the Brookline police were called

You do see why the customers might feel threatened or harassed when they enter or leave the store and you’re shouting at them about Jesus… and why they complained to the staff, who had to call us…
- Brookline police officer to Brother Nathanael

From there I followed the trail to Involuntary Slacker which had more information and some pictures on the disturbance, including a comment posted by adamg that lead me to Universal Hub’s Brother Nathanael node. Apparently he gets around. Back in January the Brookline Tab reported that Brother Nathanael had been shot at in Colorado. Just a few days after the drive-by BB gun shooting, Brother Nathanael was harrassed by Warren W. Smith, a Dillon Valley, CO man who was later arrested. Apparently Smith also has a knack for dramatics:

At the time, Smith was holding a flagpole with both an American flag and a pirate flag on it. A 3-foot sword and a skull were also on the pole.

It didn’t take long for Brother Nathanael to flee Colorado since, according to talonvaki’s LiveJournal, he was back in the Boston area in early February, shouting outside South Station at the intersection of Summer Street at Atlantic Avenue.

As it turns out, Brother Nathanael is no stranger to LiveJournal. He has his own LJ, Nathanael Speaks! “and everybody listens” which includes a timeline of his path to righteousness on his profile. His archives indicate that he’s been posting since 2005.

Now back to my encounter because it has a surprise ending….

I wasn’t able to get any great shots; mayhaps because I spooked him with my camera, though that’s highly unlikely since you typically can’t spook a spook, or because I have no photography skills whatsoever. (For some professional shots of Brother Nathanael, czech out Sara Piazza’s Photography.)

I must have come across him just as his shift was ending (around 6:00 pm) because he put away his crucifix and went over to pack up his stuff from underneath one of the median street signs.

Then Brother Nathanael took off across Harvard Street, in front of traffic mind you, in what I assume was an attempt to make the train.

Just before he jetted across Harvard Street, I noticed that he dropped something, so I went over to czech it out. What he dropped was this:

He didn’t just drop it like it was hot, he dropped it like it was gayhotmovies.com. What Brother Nathanael dropped was a prepaid card with a scratch box for 30 free minutes from a gay adult website. Now there are many reasons as to why he could have had the prepaid card: It could be a prop he uses when he preaches that everyone is going to hell, or just something that was handed to him by a random solicitor, or maybe it actually was his. (Though I suspect he might prefer gayhotmonks.com.)

I’m curious to know the answer but not as curious as Brother Nathanael appears to be.