In case you’ve missed our commentary on Fenway Bark thus far, it’s first here and then here, and kind of here. Unfortunately, our disagreements with Ms Fulton et al, which recently resulted in Fenway Bark’s permanent Shit List-ification, have descended in tone to the level of ad hominem verbal aggression. So, with that in mind, I’d like to say that Fenway Bark is gay. Gay, gay, gay. Continue reading →
Recently, the Staker’s critics have been engaging in somewhat of a feeding frenzy. I can call it that because we don’t get your standard, run-of-the-mill internet trolls on this blog. We only get people who actively dislike us specifically. And I love that! It means that I’m getting my point across.
To offer a little background, the Staker has garnered Shack heat for making the following two innocuous assertions:
Not only do yuppies try to shape the grooming landscape, but they try to replace our Pit-bulls and Rottweilers with this genetic abortion.
As my hetero-life-mate, there are many reasons why I love Staker. I have known him for nearly 17 years, and I remember vividly the day we met in our little league coach’s apartment in the Old Colony Housing Projects. But of all the reasons why I would love this hairy little grease-ball, I would have to say that I love him most for his ability to piss people off, and attract more violent energy than a hillbilly wearing steel overhauls.
What can also be a tragic character flaw really pays off here on The Shack, and the amount of heat we’ve received for his March 11th post, Passing Judgment on Fenway Bark, has lead us to make new enemeies of Zeltsonic proportions (mainly because his post is number 6 when you Google “fenway bark.” That can’t be good for business. Oops!). Now we don’t really care if you take your dog to a spa, just like we don’t care if you go down to Bella Sante on Newbury Street for a botox and Brazillian. The point is that there are many more practical uses for the limited property here in South Boston.
I’ve learned to accept the high cost of living. I’ve learned to live with the condo-ization, and with it the fact that I’ll probably never be able to afford to buy a house in Southie, at least not anytime soon. I can handle the Blackberrying yuppies, even when they walk in acting like they own the place, and I’m close to being able to contain my anger when someone asks me to say “park the car in Harvard Yard” in my own neighborhood and then laughs in my face. I don’t even mind that the parking situation seems to get more horrible every year, because Southie is still Southie, and God help us, so it will always be. But if Southie is really going to hang onto its culture, we have to draw the line somewhere. I’m drawing it here: Fenway Bark. Continue reading →