I’ve been struggling with wanting to post something, but not wanting to disrespect the victims and survivors of the Boston marathon bombings by being as frivolous as is my default here at neverland.  I’ll keep this brief, so as to not get too distracted from my main point, which is my affection and respect for Boston at all times, and most poignantly over the last couple of days.  The time I enjoyed spending there taught me some lessons about Boston and Bostonians.  For example, I come from a metropolis where people are fastidious about braking for pedestrians.  Not so, Boston.  They’ll run you down in a heartbeat, crosswalk or no.  I learned that it’s not that they are contemptuous of pedestrians.  They do not wish them harm.  It’s simply that they trust that pedestrians are tough and savvy enough to know better than to cross a street in front of oncoming traffic.  It’s certainly not that they aren’t looking out for each other, but rather they count on each other to be smart and exercise common sense survival instincts.  In the time I’ve spent in Boston I witnessed a lot of honking, a good deal of yelling, and a fearlessness about casual confrontation.  I also enjoyed random Bostonians striking up friendly conversations with me about my tattoos, why I was there in the city, if I knew about the best places for connoli (none of these things would ever occur in my uptight and icy hometown at the time).  Unlike other places I’ve lived, I found Boston not at all shy, not reserved, neither in swearing at you for being in the way or shooting the breeze with you about where you got your ink.

While the bombings will undoubtedly leave a lasting impact on Boston and the rest of us, I have to think that there’s something fundamentally bostonian that it is tough as hell, practical and pragmatic, unafraid of confrontation, and not at all reticent to reach out to a stranger with genuine interest and friendship, that no assholes with explosives can make a dent in.  And I can think of nothing more appropriate than for said assholes to be identified and dropped on the streets in South Boston just after the bars close.  I’m not a fan of state-enacted executions of criminals, but somehow I don’t seem to have a problem with the idea of some man-on-the-street Boston justice in this case.

To my Boston-based friends and family, know that we’re thinking about you, hurting with you, and knowing that “terror” is the furthest thing from your hearts.

And at the risk of devolving into the frivolous, here are just a few of some of my favorite examples of “Boston justice,” courtesy of my very favorite Boston-area based homoerotic wrestling producer…