For some time now, I have been troubled by a blight on my environment. Upon disembarking from the T at the Longwood stop in Brookline, Massachusetts, one is immediately confronted with a monstrosity known as "The Longwood Towers - an Avalon Community." As the name so evocatively hints, this is a ghastly housing complex modeled on some sort of vaguely medieval theme, with little turrets and parapets and the like. In the front, blue awnings direct one to the "Ballroom" and the "Veronique Restaurant;" in the rear, a gently sloping lawn is peppered with "No Trespassing" signs. The entire structure gives off the reek of money with nothing better to do. Clearly some development committee sat down, whipped out their bulging and greasy checkbooks, and bandied about words like "luxury units" and "classic" and "market share" and "rich suckers," and the Longwood Towers were born, thudding onto the horizon with a mighty "Oomph!" of alleged Good Taste.
The fact of the matter is, however, that The Longwood Towers are not tasteful. They are ugly. They are too shiny and too clean. Someone has spiffed them up so that they look newly minted. They sport faux arrow slits. They represent stodginess and insularity and lips pursed in disapproval. Therefore, Josh and I have taken up the mission of teaching a lesson about the vagaries of taste to the Longwood's occupants. We propose to invade their territory with a steady stream of the icons of alleged 'Bad Taste.' Pink flamingos installed on the lawn in the night. Plastic clotheslines flung over the wall. White Castle wrappers peeping from the trash. Our hope is to show residents that fancy doohickeys and a high price tag do not denote taste; that in flocking like sheep towards the promise of showy affluence, they have committed a worse crime against taste than any trailer inhabitant; and that medieval castles do not work unless they are a) old and crumbly or b) made of cardboard or plastic and used during games of Pretend.
If any Leisure Agents wish to participate, we would welcome the following:
1) Strategic assistance.
2) Manpower for recon expeditions.
3) Donations of lawn ornaments, night vision goggles, or black ski masks.
4) Bail money.
Down with "Good Taste," my Leisurely comrades!
Longwood Towers links:
Business article on the Longwood.
Realty listing with photos and floor plans.
The Veronique Restaurant.
The UK's Natural History Museum has developed a fabulous and virtually-free-of-redeeming-educational-value-but-a-really- good-excuse-for-an-animatronic-dragon touring museum exhibit called Myths and Monsters: Unraveling the Truth. Check out the one-eyed guy. Extremely sweet.
Alas, though this exhibit tours internationally, it has yet to hit these old Pilgrim shores of Massachusetts.
My latest project, therefore, is to bombard the Boston Museum of Science with requests for this important and, particularly in light of the recent discovery of elephant skulls on the island of Crete, relevant exhibit.
Please, friends of Leisure, take a moment to draft a short e-mail to the good people at the Museum of Science (information@mos.org) and tell them you want Myths and Monsters. I have taken the liberty of drafting the following e-mail as a template. You may, of course, wish to substitute your own thoughts.
I write in the hope that you will consider booking a touring exhibition produced by the Natural History Museum in London. The exhibition is called Myths and Monsters and it explores the tales behind mythical creatures, how they came to be, the myths surrounding them and their possible origins in the natural world.
It features an animatronic Cyclops.
I would be proud to attend such an exhibit and proud to bring the whole family. You may learn more about the exhibit at the Museum's website (www.nhm.ac.uk).
Thank you for your consideration.
All the Leisurely are cordially invited to join me for a massive scorpion bowl at the Hong Kong after this sucker debuts.