A [Expletive Withheld] Love Letter to Boston

Go Sox.

Dear Boston,

Don’t worry, this is not a “love letter.” What are you, some fawning schoolgirl who’s going to blush at my little puffs of poetry? I don’t think so. For one thing, you’re nearly 400 years old. And I know you’ve been with a lot of writers, some of them, uh, pretty good…so I don’t imagine I’m going to impress you with literary flash.

You know who writes “love letters” to Boston? People from other cities. Public displays of affection aren’t exactly your thing. Indeed, in all the years I’ve spent with you, I only saw you with a real spring in your step once—for exactly seven days in 2004, between the Red Sox sweeping the World Series and hometown boy John Kerry losing the presidential election—after that, the grumpiness was back and, frankly, it was a relief. Bostonians aren’t supposed to walk around smiling at and congratulating each other. That’s fine for other cities, but it’s not our deal.

Our deal, in short, is this: You kick our asses and burst our bubbles. We grow up tough and smart and grateful for it.

Am I creeping toward sentimentality, Boston? You may want to point out that most of my formative years were spent in your more affable suburbs—I’ve barely set foot in your meaner streets. In fact, I probably couldn’t find most of them. You don’t make it easy with your one-way lanes-to-nowhere, counterintuitive curves, dead ends, and neighborhoods that seem physically designed to reject outsiders. You still retain plenty of mystery for me. But I’ve done my time with you. I have surely sat in about a hundred of your Dunkin’ Donutses, known every color and branch of your T.

I have seen your snowbanks piled high, seen them quickly turn from pure white to revolting dirt-and-exhaust brown, little mounds of which cling to the curbsides impossibly long, like, well into summer. And I have known your “post-” winter sucker punch, when you allow us the complacency of several gorgeous spring days only to toss off one more outrageous afterthought of a blizzard. Most of all, I have complained about you alongside your world-class drunks as the bars shut down unreasonably early and some young person moans pathetically that the bars stay open until 4am in New York. To that, I say: Well, young person, go ahead, seek your fortune in NYC, if you must. It’s a fine city, [expletive withheld] Yankees aside. But Boston made you and me both. That very crappy attitude you’re expressing—that’s our crappy attitude.

And then...I’ve only left out the most important thing—your elitists! They walk among us, indistinguishable from the general populace. That jerk trying to save the parking space she shoveled out by leaving a folding chair in it, or that other jerk removing your folding chair so he can steal your space, or the Red Sox nationalist glued to NESN on the bar’s big screen...any of them may well be a professor at a well-regarded university. Or at least an egregiously underpaid teaching assistant. And you are not you without them.

“Elitist”—it doesn’t have a nice ring, does it? I never thought I wanted to be one, until we spent some time apart and it was pointed out to me that I already was one. Now, I’d like to think that I wasn’t an entirely condescending schmuck…but you taught me to believe that there were valuable things in this world beyond whatever decadence my television might show me. That being creative was cooler than being rich.

I grew up assuming everyone knew that striving for something outside the norm was a worthy enterprise. But, having spent plenty of time away from you, I’ve seen that notion dawn on people, usually a happy revelation. How did they live without that ideal? Who would I possibly have been without it? Well, Boston, I promised I wouldn’t embarrass you with the “l” word, so I’ll just say that all that damned shoveling and windshield-scraping…all those hours spent circling for a nonexistent parking spot…every passing frown on the street…they were all worth it. I’ve moved away and back more times now than I can count, Boston, but I’m yours, now and always.

Go Sox,

Andrew Bujalski

Andrew Bujalski is the writer and director of the films Funny Ha Ha, Mutual Appreciation, Beeswax, and Computer Chess. He types 89 wpm. The Boston Globe describes him as "unerringly polite and somewhat disheveled."


The global climate change strikes on Friday are said to have been the largest protest for climate change in history. An estimated four million people participated in 2,500 events across 163 countries on all seven continents. That included an estimated 300,000 Australians, but a total of zero were in Hyde Park in Sydney, despite a viral photo that claims otherwise.

Australian Youth Coal Coalition, a pro-coal Facebook page, posted a photo showing trash strewn across a park after what appears to have been a large event. "Look at the mess today's climate protesters left behind in beautiful Hyde Park," the photo was captioned. "So much plastic. So much landfill. So sad." The only problem is, the photo wasn't taken after a climate change protest. It wasn't even taken in Australia.

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via GOOD / YouTube

Last Friday, millions of people in 150 countries across the globe took to the streets to urge world leaders to enact dramatic solutions to combat climate change.

The Climate Strike was inspired, in part, by Greta Thunberg, a 16-year-old girl from Sweden who has captured worldwide attention for her tireless work to hold lawmakers responsible for the climate crisis.

The strike gave people across the planet the opportunity to make their voices heard before the U.N. General Assembly Climate Summit in New York City on Monday.

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Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash

As world leaders meet to discuss new ways to tackle climate change at the U.N. Climate Action Summit, they might miss one very big part of healing nature – nature. In a new short film, youth climate change activist Greta Thunberg and George Monbiot, a writer for the Guardian, talked about how we need to use nature as a solution to climate change.

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Climate Action Tracker

In 2016, 196 countries signed the Paris Agreement, pledging to combat climate change by taking action to curb the increase in global temperatures. The Paris Agreement requires countries to report on their emissions and what steps they're taking to implement those plans. Now that the countries are coming together again for the U.N. Climate Action Summit in New York City, it's worth taking a look at what kind of progress they've made.

The Climate Action Trackerkeeps tabs on what each country is doing to limit warming, and if they're meeting their self-set goals. Countries are graded based on whether or not their actions would help limit warming to 1.5 degrees C.

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Screenshot via (left) Wikimedia Commons (right)

Greta Thunberg has been dubbed the "Joan of Arc of climate change" for good reason. The 16-year-old activist embodies the courage and conviction of the unlikely underdog heroine, as well as the seemingly innate ability to lead a movement.

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