Suckling the Cash Cow: Plenty of teats for everyone.

You're being hustled. This may come as a shock to you, but I have the facts on my side.

I know you think I'm lying because what good are facts nowadays, when cold, hard propaganda works twice as well? I'll tell you because I love you and I know I don't tell you that often but it's called hard love. Learn to love it. Learn to hard love it.

Sometimes I peruse the North End website looking for interesting trivia about my place of residence, namely to see if the North End was created as a tourist trap, like an amusement park where there are no roller coasters, only expensive snacks, lost tourists and long lines for the bathroom. To my surprise it was not created for that, the fact that it is now is only coincidence. Here are actual photos posted on their website of which this reproduction and distribution is probably illegal.













We have architectural structures. Walls included.


North End's best male burlesque dancers. They piss raw meat.


The camera dropped accidentally.

Here we have Secret Tours of the North End. Just kidding. Here we have Secret Tours of the North End.

For just $30 you can see the North End as it should be seen. Secret Tours advertise as "Unofficial, Unauthorized and Unconventional." All these words mean only one thing, "probably a scam". It's titled "Secret" leading me to believe it's secret for a reason. Either the tour group is itself very stealth like and inconspicuous, or the tour is pretty boring. For example you can, "Re-live the Great Molasses Flood of 1919."
...Many people died. They're not living anymore, never mind doing it again. That's just inconsiderate.

In conclusion I'm starting my own North End Tour Group truly reminiscent of the attitude of the North End. It'll start in my apartment where we'll take shots of cheap vodka and everyone has to put $5 in. We'll play music way too loud (no, not Frank Sinatra! Did Revere listen to Franky?) and piss off the lady with the heavy Italian accent across the street. Someone will start a rumor that the cops are coming and then we'll run to Bova's Bakery at 2 a.m. "BOVA'S!!" We'll stumble out and a paid actor will puke in the middle of the sidewalk, where Paul Revere once rode his horse! Eventually we'll end up in a penguin-like huddle in front of some apartment where the rent is totally not worth what you pay, smoking an entire pack of cigarettes. Just in time for someone to realize it's minutes before the last T.