Train in Vain

Something important was lost when the MBTA got new trains for for the Red Line. While the robo-announcer's voice is always chipper and intelligible and courtesously reminds you to remember your belongings when exiting the car, I miss the personal touch that a real, weary human voice (amplified by the tinny PA system) provided.

Consider this my tribute to the world that was.

All aboard!

(My wife claims that the automated turnstile didn't double charge her Charlie Card during her last inbound trip from Quincy Center, so my info may be out of date. The last time I rode south of the Dot, it was to have a root canal procedure done, and the less I think back on that experience, the better.)

Threat or Menace?

If you follow my other blog on a regular basis, you might have noticed that I tend to make a lot of references, directly or indirectly, to comic books. With pronounced WOO-BIN, my intentions were to adhere to a clearly defined focus -- regional matters, provincial observations, and, of course, my occasionally impenetrable Boston accent -- instead of the stream of consciousness meanderings that characterize Armagideon Time.

Comics, an easy fallback topic and frequent crutch, were not to be featured here unless they were specifically germane to the subject at hand...such as fulfilling a request by one Michael Sterling of Ventura County, California. "Mikester" asked to hear my dulcet tones applied to the opening captions of 1990's Spider-Man #1, the Todd McFarlane production that proved that being a fan-favorite artist is no substitution for actual writing skills.

Comics fans being comics fans, however, the comic sold a shitload of copies and played no small part in instigating the "hot" artist-driven boom (and catastrophic bust) cycle of the 1990s comics market. "ADVANTAGEOUS," indeed.

So here you go, my dramatic recitation of Todd McFarlane's unforgettable contribution to literature....

Advantageous!

...and if my slapdash effort fails to sate your appetite, here's a Kevin Church remix that oozes with the kind of ambiance that you just don't get with a Karaoke Revolution pack-in USB headset and a freeware audio editing program.

Advantageous Remix!

Kevin also put his unparalled talents to use in whipping up this rave-tastic repurposing of my inaugural audio sample.

Gee Scarlett (Remix)

I couldn't ask for better internet friends.

Waxing Poetic

The Bay State has a rich poetic tradition, from Anne Bradstreet and Phyllis Wheatley to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Emily Dickinson to Elizabeth Bishop and Sylvia Plath.

All are wonderful in their individual ways, but there is one piece of verse concerning this fabled region that stands above all others. It speaks to my soul as few works are able to, perfectly capturing a the essence of a place both geographically and spiritually familiar to me.

Here's an excerpt...

Modern Poetry

...though it pales in comparison to the complete genuine article that no person of culture should be without.

Proppah Parenting

While the rest of the country might claim that we Bay Staters are culturally out of step with Good Ol' American Values^TM, the following recitation, taken from an item in the September 17 edition of the Daily Times Chronicle, reveals that we are less removed from the mainstream than certain parties would have you believe.

The Importance of Family Values

Notes: Nahant is a beachfront community in Essex County, approximately ten miles east of Woburn.

Hart ( or "Haht") Street runs parallel to the Middlesex Canal between Hammond Square (my old stomping grounds) and Central Square.

Non-rhotic Geography

The lion's share of local news personalities, with the exception of sportscasters or muckraking political commentators looking to maintain a populist veneer, adopt at least some form of the (depressingly bland) General American accent. R's roll off their tongues with practiced ease and their use of glottal stops and low vowels has been willfully suppressed.

Blood will tell, however, and what has been bred in the Bay State will come out whenever city and town names need be enunciated. It's the easiest way to tell the natives from the out-of-towners, as the former can't help pronouncing "Worcester" as "WOOS-TAH" and the latter strain mightily to keep from saying "WUR-CEST-ER." It's a trivial thing even among my list of petty irritations, but whenever I hear local place names rendered in accent-neutral Nebraskanese, I get a sensation similar to the feeling you get when you bite down on a piece of tinfoil.

"Woe-burn," my ass.

As a modest way of remedying the problem, I present this brief lesson in geographical pronunciation. Newscasters take note.

"Heading out from Boston, you will find Somerville, Revere, Everett, and Medford."

"Gloucester, Danvers, and Peabody are on the North Shore."

"Down on the South Coast, you can visit Dartmouth, New Bedford, and Fall River." (It's also where Comrade Thirdmate is currently berthed.)

"In the northwestern suburbs, one can find Billerica, Haverhill, Winchester, and most importantly, Woburn."

The Wikkid Truth

If you have been following my other ongoing project for any length of time, you've probably noticed that I have a strong sense of regional pride -- for Massachusetts, for Boston, and especially for Woburn, the middle-ring suburb that sits ten miles northwest of the Hub, astride the interchange between I-93 and I-95.

My pride isn't a matter of blind parochial chauvinism born of sports rivalries and narrow-focus bias. I'm well aware of the faults and follies of the region and its residents, but despite the occasional (okay, frequent) bouts of teeth-gnashing and directed torrents of profanity, I find those idiosyncracies to be part of the total endearing package. We're an impatient breed of inveterate complainers who stick it out today for the sake of finding something else to complain about tomorrow. Taxes, bad roads, local politics, the fortunes of the various home teams -- we are spoiled with objects of potential ire.

Yet despite the inferiority complexes and grousing, I wouldn't leave this place if you paid me. I'll take a nonsensical tangle of streets based on 17th century cowpaths or a treacherous rotary over a neatly laid out road grid any day. We don't need logic or transparency. We've got character born of nearly four centuries of history.

...and that brings us to the subject of the Boston accent, oft imitated (and mocked) by outsiders, but rarely duplicated successfully by the same. Rooted in Colonial Era English and filtered through the various immigrant groups (especially the Irish) that settled in the area, it is more than just a broad impersonation of Kennedy-speak (and honestly, only the Kennedys talk that way) or a vaguely Brooklynese patois featuring dropped r's and liberal use of "wikkid." It is a creature unto itself, my native tongue, and the most obvious manifestation (next to aggressive driving habits) of our shared sense of regional identity.

Which is why it pains me when I hear my nieces and nephews speak in the generic accent of Nickelodeon sitcom characters. Within the space of a generation, the global media village has made massive in-roads in panel-beating regional speech patterns into flat neutrality. While previous incursions by exotic dialects into the region, like the 80's "val-speak" fad, have been handily assimilated into the local accent ("Oh my Gawd, he bahfed in the back of my cah!"), this new strain, aided by the decline of regionally-based media, has been steadily supplanting the native one.

"Are you cutting keer-its?" Maura's nice asked her recently. "No, I'm cutting kah-its," was Maura's reply.

I accept that one man swinging a rusty sword will not hold back the incursion. What I can do is present to you, my dear readers, a sampling of audio clips spotlighting the glories of the Boston accent as applied to a variety of material, and offer it to you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So feel free to email me any requests for things that you wish to hear rendered in the language of bean and cod.

Our inaugural clip comes courtesy of a suggestion by a Mr. Christopher Sims of South Carolina, whose unhealthy fascination with (and hysterical laughter over) my pronuciation of "Star Wars" livened up many an XBL multiplayer session and was the true inspiration for this project. The context behind the choice of material can be found here.

Gee, Scarlet!

Short, sweet, and right to the point. See you on Wednesday!