To those who would try to rock my city to the core, and scare us?
(read this with the broadest Boston accent you can imagine)
You’ve heard it lots from the TV folks, but let me tell you as a native. This is a city with heart. We’ve lived through lots of bad stuff, much of it self-inflicted (busing, anyone?), and we learned. We saw what we looked like in the eyes of the nation and the world, and we changed. That’s something that lots of people could benefit from. Seeing themselves through the eyes of others and learning from it. Boston is much less “mean streets” than it was in the 70s thanks to learning from mistakes.
Boston opens its arms and its rather crusty heart to many thousands of students from all over the world every fall. Each September the city’s population swells with students from as close as Brookline and as remote as the farthest flung areas of the globe. These students come to learn in a city that prides itself on being the place where people come to learn. Many then stay to earn their livings afterward. And you know what we Bostonians do? We say, “Okay.” We’re not the most demonstrative of people. You try living through February in Boston and you’ll understand why we have an edge. But we take care of our own, including those that settle here. Which is why these idiots who visited mayhem on the most Bostonian of Boston events did nothing more than Royally. Piss. Us. Off.
To the little bastards that bombed the Marathon? Here’s what Bostonians think of you. You’re punks. Nothing but punks. We welcomed you, you selfish little ingrates. You came here as kids, and we all said, “Oh how cute!” We welcomed you at the middle school, at Cambridge Rindge & Latin. We were only vaguely annoyed as you skateboarded around the entrance to the Harvard T stop at rush hour, slowing us as we walked to Out of Town News, the Coop and the Brattle Theater. We smiled at you on a beautiful Monday afternoon as you dropped your backpacks of death in crowds of innocents. We took care of you, you selfish little assholes. And you know what you got for your pressure cooker bombs? You got a whole city angry. And this is the city that notoriously holds a grudge. Don’t believe me? Ask New York. We like New York, really we do. But we also really like wearing our Red Sox and Patriots gear in New York, just to needle them, just because it’s fun and we still carry a chip on our shoulders about all those years that we were the “lovable losers”. Screw that, we prefer to win. And this week, you didn’t defeat us. We won.
And as befits a city of winners, we still welcome people. You won’t scare us. You don’t scare us. We’ll welcome others, 99.99995% of whom will be glad to be here, and will add wonderful things to this vibrant city. Little shits like you can’t make us change. You are nothing to us. You don’t scare us, and you won’t stop us. The president said it best: Boston will run again. You didn’t accomplish anything other than bringing the wrath of Boston down on your stupid, sorry heads, and you will be brought to justice, convicted, and forgotten. Next year the Boston Marathon will go on. Boston will run again. Boston will cheer the victors and the people who just cross the finish line. We’ll cheer for those who carry the spirit of this city. We’ll remember those who died and were hurt. But we’ll forget you. You will have accomplished nothing. But then, that’s what you are: nothing.
So I say it again in my finest Jamaica Plain accent: