Megorious

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.

I woke up early this morning, much earlier than I had hoped, so I decided to make it a relaxing and casual morning. I read The New Yorker, played with Linus for a bit, and then caught the last half of Best in Show on Comedy Central. Good mornings don’t get any better than that.

After my shower, I tracked over to Peet’s Coffee and Tea to do some homework. After I stalked out my table, I sat and enjoyed my tasty and refreshing coffee. There was this older gentleman there, asking customers to fill out a survey about Peet’s. He was highly organized, with clipboards and pens and moxie. Actually, he wasn’t very good at persuading customers to fill out the survey; not because people turned him down, but because he hadn’t bothered to ask many people. After about ten minutes of actual work, he asked me, not noticing the stack of scripts I needed to read for class. I agreed to the survey because I knew I would score a free coffee card. It only took me a couple of minutes.

Then, something happened. I’m not exactly sure how it started because it happened so fast. He randomly volunteered some information about his occupation, then asked me a simple question, “Do ever go to downtown Boston?” I informed him that indeed I do, since I go to Emerson College. Now, what are the chances that this old man had once worked for Emerson College?

What follows is mostly accurate. I paraphrased bits and pieces based off of what I could remember. Since most of the information is repetitive it was fairly easy to remember most of it. None of it has been over-exaggerated.

(Read more »&raquo)

There is this little store in Coolidge Corner that sells, well, crap. The store is so cluttered that you literally knock things over while walking through. It’s a great place to find eccentric and rare items though. For instance, the window display contains lots of novelty action figures and a Lite Brite. They also sell canes…

I was passing by the other day and saw that the store was closed…

Sunday morning Rebecca and I went into Peet’s for our morning coffee and decided to burn off the last few exposures from an old roll of film. We snapped three pictures of our favorite baristas and then went on down to Walgreens to get the film developed. The camera was one of those “free film for life (of camera)” cameras that I purchased back home from Kaboom!’s Walgreens. Basically you pay ten bucks for a plastic camera and every time you drop it off at any Walgreens they refill it for free with a new roll of film. Walgreens will continue to do this until you or the camera dies. It’s a very clever business idea; it basically ensures that Walgreens will always have your business.

Rebecca and I approached the PHOTO COUNTER inside the Coolidge Corner Walgreens and were greeted by an associate.

Associate: Hello.
Ryan: Hi, I’d like to get this film developed. (Presents film.)
Associate: Okay. Would you like one hour or overnight?
Ryan: One hour please.
Associate: I’m sorry we can’t do one hour today; we don’t have a photo tech working.
Ryan: I see.
Associate: I can have it back in 24 hours.
Rebecca: Why would you offer one hour if you can’t do it?
Associate: We normally do.
Rebecca: Do you do one hour?
Associate: Yes.
Rebecca: Just not today?
Associate: No.
Rebecca: I see-

At this point I had to restrain Rebecca from lunging at the associate; she’s been biting people lately and the state says they might take her away if she can’t learn to control her thirst for immigrant blood.

We left Walgreen’s and headed to the nice CVS in Coolidge Corner. (There are two CVS’ within a block of each other.) Inside there was this old Asian couple playing on the Kodak Picture Maker; the woman was holding a Yorkshire terrier in her arms and the man was frantically punching the soft-touch monitor. I’m not a big fan of CVS, they are extremely overpriced and normally really slow to check you out for something as simple as a pack of gum. Add to that that stupid CVS Extra Care card that they only ask you for when buying something that it can’t be used for (said pack of gum, bottle of water, ect.) but when you’re buying something that you could save money on they don’t ask you. AND then you don’t just get a receipt you get a scroll of parchment saturated in frivolous coupons that have inspecable stipulations. (Save $3 when you buy 9oz. of shampoo.)

Much to my chagrin the CVS photo clerk was very helpful and was actually developing pictures, unlike the EVIL Walgreens. We dropped off the film and went strolling around Coolidge for the hour. After that hour we returned to see if the film was ready, even though he told us it would take a little longer than an hour (I ordered digital prints.) The film wasn’t ready but the old Asian couple was still standing at the Picture Maker with that damn dog.

Another hour passed and we went to reclaim the film and this time it was ready and the Asian couple was now sitting in chairs and that damn dog was in a buggy. Apparently they were going to make a day of cropping and enlarging photos.

Now to the point of the story. Wednesday morning I returned to Peets to show barista Gina the pictures snapped in Peets Sunday morning. That’s when she invited me to join in on a coffee tasting, where she was sampling all sorts of exotic coffees from around Africa. We tried a bitter blend from Ethiopia that smelled like bong water and then a few other African blends. Lastly we sampled the Kenyan blend.

Ryan: This is really smooth.
Coffee Guy: You can really taste all the different flavors coming together.
Gina: I can sort of taste a hint of citrus.
Coffee Guy: There is a little bit of citrus in there. The roasting brings it out beautifully.
Gina: It really does.
Ryan: I like it.
Coffee Guy: Kenya dig it?

It’s gone international!

Sunday evening, whilst on their way to get delicious ice-cream from JP Licks, Ryan and Rebecca were stopped by a man on the street, a homeless man. This homeless man was different than most of the rest though, he was offering something in exchange for money: poetry. The homeless man was somewhat of a poet and had a folder full of sheets of his own original poetry. And not just the same poem, different ones. All typed on nice crinkle-free white paper and even some on fancy orange paper.

The homeless man handed one to Ryan and said “This is my poetry you can take this and share it with your girlfriend.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.” Said Rebecca.
“Yeah she’s more like the sister I never wanted.” Said Ryan.
“Oh all right.” Said the man with no home. “Well I’ll give you this poem, it’s my favorite.”
Ryan glanced down at the paper. “You misspelled ‘patience’.” Said Ryan.
“I did? Ohh man. I wrote this in a hurry.” Said the impatient man with no home. “Well you give me money and I’ll give you my poem.”
“Wouldn’t that be selling?” Asked Rebecca
“I guess so. I’ll sell you my poetry then.” Said the poet with no home.
“Well I don’t have any cash.” Said Ryan, the boy with no cash..
“And neither do I.” Said Rebecca.
“But I’d love to take this poem and read it.” Said Ryan, who is a kind person that cares about others.
“Well it ain’t free!” Screamed the annoyed poet with no home.
“Well nobody is going to buy your poetry if you act like that.” Said Rebecca.

At this point another bystander, let’s call her Eve, came by and listened to what was going on. The man with no home asked her if she wanted to buy some of his poetry and she said she also did not have any cash. The homeless poet became irritated and snatched the orange sheet out of Eve’s hand. Then Eve, Ryan and Rebecca all began to walk away when the poet with no home or patience yelled “How am I ‘pose to pay for all these copies!?”

Upon hearing this the three pedestrians halted and turned 180 degrees back towards the ranting poet with no home, questions had just been raised. How did this man make the copies? Do homeless people go to Kinkos? Are homeless people allowed in Kinkos? Where did he get the money? Why is a homeless man wasting what little change he has to make copies? Why so many copies? Why would he spend extra to get colored paper? Is colored paper really necessary? Did he think it would impress the people he would harass? And if this man did have access to a Kinkos or a computer and printer why in the hell didn’t he spell check?

The world may never know.

There is this woman who stands on the corner or Beacon and Harvard in Coolidge Corner some Sunday mornings screaming “ANIMAL ABUSE!” She is tall and lanky, with military short light brown to gray hair, grayish skin and a look pure carnage. She has two poster board signs, one in her hand, which reads “Sign for Animal Abuse,” which she proudly showcases when screaming “ANIMAL ABUSE!” and another that hangs on the little table she brings with her that reads Abandon Kittens. I’ve never been quite sure if she’s protesting animal abuse or offering it.

Last Sunday morning I decided to approach her and find out what’s going on. I recently decided that I wanted to get my own kitten and I figured she might be a good place to start. Not really, I’m just a shit. I walked up to her and said, “Can I ask you a question?” She replied, “I don’t have time for questions!” and went on screaming, “ANIMAL ABUSE! SIGN!” When I didn’t move she asked me to move out of her way, as if I was going to block her screaming.

Now before I continue I would like to state that it could appear to mean three different things when you’re holding a sign that reads “Sign for Animal Abuse” and you’re screaming “ANIMAL ABUSE! SIGN!” Those three things are:
1. You’re protesting animal abuse and you want people to sign against it.
2. You’re offering animal abuse and you want people to sign up.
3. You’re trying to draw attention to the animal abuse sign and that’s it.

The word sign has different meanings, kind of like the word draw.

I left the woman alone and went to regroup, she turned out to be more of a match than I ever could have imagined. After walking around, a quick bite to eat and a nice double espresso I returned, determined to engage this woman in conversation and find out what exactly she’s doing.

I came at her from a different direction and was right in front of her before she knew it, that way she couldn’t wave me away before I got close. Her teeth were coffee and cigarette stained and her breath smelled of capitalism.
“I’d like to sign,” I said.
“Ok a membership costs $25 dollars or you can donate $10 just to sign,” she said.
“I don’t have ten dollars.” I said.
“Anything will help, for the price of a cup of coffee you can save one cat’s life.”
“Well I have two dollars.”
“Do you have one more dollar? I can’t let you write the letter without another dollar.”
“I don’t. I don’t carry much cash.”
“Do you have change or anything?”
I checked my pockets and had 90 cents and offered to her, she said that would do. Then she moved my body to the other side of her little table and slapped a pen and pad in my hand. She handed me a piece of cardboard and said,
“You’re coping this onto this. Sign your name and then print it and put your address.”

The cardboard read:
Dear Senator Kennedy,
I am speaking for the ones who cannot speak. Please do your part by signing the Humane Treatment of Animals Act into legislation.

Sincerely,
SIGN YOUR NAME
PRINT YOUR NAME
PRINT YOUR ADDRESS

While I was doing my part a cute girl came up and said she wanted to sign as well. The woman told her she needed $10 to write the letter to Senator Kennedy and I said, “That’s some expensive stamp.” The girl said she didn’t have $10 and I said she only really needed $2.90. The woman was starting to dislike me more. I finished my letter, gave it to the woman who just glanced at it for a second and then stuffed it into an envelope already addressed to Senator Kennedy. Then I asked her where I could find a kitten and she said, “I don’t know. I’m out of New York but you can check the city pound, that’s where they kill them.”

The cute girl gave $3 and copied her letter and then the woman told me to move along because I was blocking her; then she reminded me to come back later in the day with the other $7.10 that I owe her. Just before I departed a man who obviously knew the scary woman came up to her and handed her a cup of Starbucks coffee. “Does it taste like kittens?” I asked and walked away.

Dear Senator Kennedy,

I am speaking for the ones who cannot speak, no not mimes, animals! Well not parrots, because they can speak just fine. Please do your part by signing the Humane Treatment of Animals Act into Legislation. Did you know that for the price of a cup of coffee you could save a kitten? Well the woman who made me write this looks like she’s had four kittens today. Thanks…oh yeah, send this lady $7.10.

Sincerely,
Marc Jakobs
123 Fake St.
Brookline, MA 02446

PS: You have a really big head.