Andrew Jackson

Look briefly.  This flag isn't pretty.

Talk about putting lipstick on a pig.  Whoever dreamed up the flag for the City of Jacksonville, Florida must have had indigestion that night.  Someone should have his vexillologist license revoked.  Whoever approved this as the official flag of the city has probably been voted out of office for decades and yet the banner still waves.

Recognize the figure in front of all the converging rays?  New Orleans' own Andrew Jackson on horseback just as he is posed in Jackson Square in this fair city.   Jacksonville couldn't even come up with it's own image of Old Hickory.  To make matters more derivative, Jacksonville's official nickname is "The River City."  Really?  The only one in the whole wide world?  That's a unique distinction.  Not "The Bad Flag City?"

Compare Jacksonville's flag to New Orleans'.

A thing of beauty: New Orleans' flag.

New Orleans' flag isn't my favorite but it is better than most.  It is simple.  A school child can draw it.  I'm not a fan of the narrow red and blue stripes and I think the flag could use an update with a little more oomph.  There's no need to rush though.  A redesign would probably involve committees and public hearings and debates and suggestions that it should be black and gold, which it should not.  I wouldn't be adverse to wider stripes colored green and purple, which are certainly New Orleans colors and would stand out from other American city flags.  Probably it's best not to try to fix something that isn't broken.

Plenty of city flags are hung off front porches in New Orleans.  Probably far more than are hung off the front porches in Jacksonville, FL.

My favorite city flag?  This one:

Chicago.  Now those are nice proportions.

I only visited this city once and I don't recall ever seeing the flag flying proudly.  I was a younger man and while I liked Chicago, I didn't love it.  The mass transit made an impression.  I love subways and elevated lines that don't get stuck in traffic.  I doubt I would enjoy the winters.  I'm happy in New Orleans.

Three cheers for earthworms!

Worm casts are popping up all over Dorchester. It's a welcome, if not exactly pretty sign of spring. It is a sight that warms a gardener's heart however. The earthworms are active and busy turning the soil and keeping it productive. Worm casts are those little piles of granulated earth that you find all over the ground without every seeing why. The worms prefer to do their work when no one is watching.

It is dung is a sense, but it doesn't attract any beetles. The casts really don't bother anyone at all. Stepping in them is certainly better than stepping in what dogs leave behind. If only people would keep worms as pets and take them for walks. The sidewalks would be more pleasant and no one would complain about owners ignoring curbing laws. Are there laws in Dorchester demanding that one pick up after his or her dog? I know people do, but I also know there are people who don't. I'm not too fond of the people who don't.

So, in honor of the humble nightcrawler and his noble, unobtrusive work, a salute. Most species of worms have five hearts and it's no surprise. They give and they give and ask nothing for themselves. They make the world fit for flowers and fruits, vegetables and shady trees, wine, hops and medicinals. Three cheers for earthworms!

Burger King smells better

Burger King, that hamburger empire with outlets on Dot Ave and Columbia Road is branching out of the food business and into the scent business. We don't mean the aromas that waft out of the fry-o-lators into the surrounding neighborhood. We mean the scent of seduction "with a hint of flame-broiled meat" as only Burger King can do it. Flame broiling is what separates BK's burgers from McDonald's, as much as customers being able to have it their way. Now you can have it your way after a shave and not be a slave to the corporate tastes of Drakar, Canoe, Stetson or Old Spice.

Burger King has introduced its own cologne, or 'body spray' as the marketing wonks at Axe like to call it.

I was in line to order a loaded Angus Burger at the Dot Ave BK, standing behind a couple of toughs. You know the kind, construction workers wearing grimy, Carhartt overalls with baseball caps that haven't seen a washing machine since they were made. and bandannas in their back pockets caked with half-frozen snot and grit scraped from V-8 engines' headers. They had beards speckled with crumbs from yesterday's lunchtime subs and teeth as stained and crooked as the tombstones in the Old Burying Ground on the Common. These guys didn't place an order for food. They asked for the new Burger King cologne they has heard about from their buddies, the cologne that drives carnivorous women wild.

The cashier thought they were crazy so she summoned the assistant manager, a pudgy fellow who has obviously enjoyed his share of complimentary Whopper Jr.'s in lieu of a decent wage. He took control of the situation and told these customers that the cologne was only available for sale via the website firemeetsdesire.com. The shorter of the two protested, "But I don't have a computer." The taller one pulled him aside and said, "You can use mine. I'll get a bottle for each of us."

After enjoying my scrumptious Angus Burger, I went home to confirm the facts. It is true, a meat scented cologne is for sale under Burger King's aegis, concocted to their exclusive, trademarked formula. After all, who could do it better than these experts in the field of flame-broiling beef for the masses.

I called Esmelda Perez, who is planning to open her "Smell Good Shop" on Upham's Corner. She told me over the phone, "Oh, I'm all over this one. I've already ordered a case and written the product line into my business plan. This will go over big in Dorchester. I smell dollars."

The beer they call liquor

Haffenreffer Private Stock, that supposed scourge of the inner city, 'liquid crack', ghetto-juice, actually has a respectable history with roots in Boston's brewing history. In fact, the site where it was orginally made is home to a national brewery that is either reviled or admired depending on your point-of-view. Boston's own Sam Adams Beer is made where the recipe for this supposed, modern urban scourge was first concocted:. As the label says: "Malt Liquor...with the imported taste." The Boston Brewing Co. is doing well on the foundations laid by Haffenreffer & Co. just after Prohibition was repealed. A little history.

When malt liquor was first introduced (please don't call it beer) it was sold as an upper class drink. The first national brand was 'Country Club' sold in tiny cans for cocktail party sipping because it tasted like champagne. The breed of yeast, among other things, lends understated, flavorful undertones reminiscent of fine wines. You can find this beverage in many corner package stores not just in Dorchester and Roxbury, but in East Boston, Charlestown, the South End, West Roxbury, Hyde Park, and in the surrounding communities of Somerville, Chelsea, Cambridge, Milton and Quincy.

Of course people now associate malt liquor with poverty, skid row, bums, and pocket-poor college students and hip-hop imressarios looking to make a quick endorsement buck. It didn't start out that way. I am just starting to scratch the surface of my malt liquor research (don't ask how this project came about) but one of the more popular, earlier brands was called Champale for a reason. It was intended for the upper crust or, at least, the upwardly mobile. Natty tennis players drank it. That's not an image you associate with gangsters sporting low-slung, baggy pants even if they can "sing."

Boston didn't invent malt liquor but the city, Jamaica Plain and Stony Brook in particular, played an important role in its evolution. Haffenreffer Private Stock is still made according to the original recipe and it is still sold here and enjoyed by thousands of Bostonians. To see how it matches up to other brands, click here. Indepent experts agree it stands up pretty well to the competition. Sam Adams would be proud.

If you are interested in malt liquor let me know. I prowl all the packies in the Dot and can offer reviews of what's on offer. It's a head-splitting job but somebody should do it to set the record straight.

Neponset's best

There is truth in advertising, especially where people talk as straight and honestly as they do around Neponset Circle. Sometimes you can believe what you read (just scroll through these archives). Customers voted the Tedeschi Food Shop on Neponset Avenue the cleanest in Dorchester and that's something to brag about in Boston's tidiest neighborhood.

Dorchester is famous for its store clerks who break out the Brasso and apply more than a dollop of elbow grease. Dorchester has the highest mop consumption in the greater Boston metropolitan area. It's not in just the grocery stores either. From Mattapan to Columbia Point, the clothing outlets, the gas stations, the dollar stores, the Vietnamese gift shops, the bakeries and fish markets, the computer repair offices, the package stores, the tire vendors and mechanics, the used appliance retailers, the restaurants and bars, from the seediest to the most swanky, the jewelers, the antiques dealers, the second hand roses and the chic boutiques; they are all known far and wide as being spic and span.

Dorchester's streets are clean, its gardens are manicured and its stately homes are well maintained. Dorchester is spiffy and tended with an artist's eye toward perfection. Stray leaves don't blow willy-nilly down Dorchester's streets. They are intended to add a bit of autumnal charm. Come winter, roads are plowed and walks are shoveled with the aim of making everything look invitingly wintry. Summer is the season in which Dorchester shows off all its splendor but no matter what the time of year, you will be guaranteed the inside of any shop front will be clean and hygienic.

Oral hygiene on the T

It took almost exactly a year but I have finally seen it. The ubiquitous nail clipping was unnerving enough. The nose hair-pulling, the scab trimming, the cuticle exfoliation...etc. The public meals...Who wants to eat on the T and stink up the car with lo mein for everyone's delight? On Thursday, I witnessed what I have been joking about for a year and it was just as bad as I imagined...

A man got on the Red Line at Charles/MGH. He wasn't an attractive man by any stretch of the imagination so I imagine he had nothing to lose, one of life's also-rans. He sat down next to two pretty, young girls and across from my companion and I. Once he settled himself, he pulled out a container of floss and unfurled a nice length to wrap around his index fingers. Yes, he proceeded to floss his teeth.

He extracted a sizable chunk of something and looked across the aisle. He must have noticed my horrified facial expression. I don't know what my companion's reaction was at that moment, but judging from the conversation afterward, it must have been similiar. The perpetrator stopped. The girls moved away as far as thier seats would allow.

The girls talked loudly amongst themselves, loud enough to be incompletely understood over the clack of the train's wheels over the tracks. One said, "He should take a bow." My companion said to me, "The worst part was when he sucked it back in his mouth with his tongue." I replied, "I suppose that would be better than flicking it off the string into the aisle. Maybe he thought he was being polite."

The man disembarked at South Station after hiding behind a newspaper most of the rest of the trip. He was the topic of disbelieving, revolted conversation at least until JFK/UMASS. That is where my companion and I got off. The girls were headed to Ashmont and the skeeve effect still hadn't worn off by the time we parted company.