Parking issues

The town of Brookline, MA has a certain luxurious aftertaste to it: overnight parking is banned in the whole of the city. That's right: you can't leave your car in the street overnight. Ever.

The solution? Well, the more expensive apartment complexes offer complimentary parking space. The less expensive ones offer it for an extra fee. But in either case, the space is rarely enough for everybody. So some of proud brooklinians are forced to seek parking space somewhere else - also for a fee, of course.

But even that still seems not enough.

Therefore, in it's infinite care for the citizens, the generous city of Brookline is offering municipal parking space. Of course, also for a fee. And of course, not for the whole day. During the business hours, you see, the lots are used for other - business-related - purposes. But come 8PM, the proud municipal tenant is free to occupy the space. Until the next morning, that is. Because come 9AM, any proud tenant who neglected to remove their car will be towed away. For business-related purposes.

So the bottom line for the aforementioned proud tenant would be: come from work, find an on-street parking space, hang out until 8pm, move the car to the parking lot (possibly enduring a line of similar-minded proud tenants), go home, go to sleep, wake up at 8am (or so), go to the parking lot, take the car, find an on-street parking space (in case you don't have to go to work right away), repeat.

Really nice. Real Commonwealth - as in, giving up personal comforts in the interest of the group.

Wanna private beach? Talk to the mayor!

The clever citizens of Gloucester, MA (pronounced "glo-ster") have figured out a way to have their own private beach. Just for the citizens of Gloucester.

You can't, of course, have a locals-only beach, that would be ridiculous, wound't it? But you can have locals-only parking. Add two and two, and voila: all you need to do is declare all parking around the beach "resident permit only". And, just in case some non-local basterds feel like walking a little, also declare several blocks around "no parking any time".

Bravo!

Tax-free weekend in Massachusetts

I just found out. Seriously, they have it here. It's like "casual Friday in prison". Like "bring-your-ugly-little-browser day in a girls-only school". Like "a spoon of honey in a barrel of shit".

Seriously. They have a tax-free weekend. The whole weekend. Two whole days. Absolutely no sales tax. In Massachusetts.

Really? No sales tax?! For two days?! IN MASSACHUSETTS?!!

Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you very much. I'm sooooo grateful. Where do I send a "thank you" card?

Nicest people in the country (nicer - only in NYC)

One of the hallmarks of the Boston people is, of course, concern for others.

For example, many nice people would let their kids get completely soaked in the splash fountain near playground (very nice on a hot day), and then go on a swing or a slide right in those soaked clothes, thus leaving the swing (or the slide) completely wet. This way, you see, they do a big favor to other (dry) kids, who want to escape the heat by wetting their bottoms, but are too shy to actually go to the fountain themselves. People who are extra nice also give their kids buckets or similar containers so they can actually bring water from the fountain and pour it down the slide, thus making it a water slide.

It is also widely accepted to take other kid's toys without asking. This is called "commonwealth" - as in "all wealth is common". (One must note, though, that taking adult toys in a similar fashion is not considered OK for some reason)

Other considerate (to animals) people think it's OK to walk their dog (and yes - let it pee) right on the playground lawns and structures, despite a very clear sign that reads "No dogs, please" and has a nice picture of a cute doggy crossed with a red line (apparently, for those who are illiterate, yet manage to own a dog). One must give them a credit, though: most dog owners at least take care to do their despicable deed at night, when there are no kids around. But still there are a few others, who don't bother to check for kids first.

(A side note: I'm not even complaining about off-leash dogs. At this point, I would be happy if that was the only problem)
(And another side note: on the rare occasions when I make the fatal mistake of asking the dog owner to obey the law, I usually get a useful advice that I should go and have a sexual intercourse with myself)

But enough about playgrounds. After all, nice people can be found all over Boston, not just around kids.

One of such great places is, of course, the subway. Many people are helpful enough to provide reading material to their fellow subway riders. The material is provided in the form of free newspapers lying here and there on the seats. And when a newspaper has been read enough times, it will not be wasted: instead, it will be carefully put on the train floor in order to help other passengers wipe their feet. And when it finally turns into a dirty mess from all the foot wiping... Well, it just continues to lie there on the floor - it doesn't have any other place to go after all, does it?

A funny episode happened with me a few days ago. As I was trying to cross a street with my two kids in a double stroller, I found an unexpected obstacle in the form of a small truck standing right on the crosswalk and blocking it completely. Luckily (or so I thought), the driver was in the truck (probably waiting for someone), so I tapped on his hood and waived my hand, showing him that I would like him to move a bit. The driver stared at me for a few seconds without doing anything, so I walked over to his passenger door, opened it and asked the driver to please move. To that, the driver responded that if he backs up, he's going to hit somebody. When I insisted, arguing that I was unable to cross the street, the driver asked me, quite politely, to "close the fucking door". After a few minutes, another person walked out of a nearby Dunkin Donuts and sat on the passenger seat. The truck backed up a bit and started merging onto the street. When I pointed out to the driver that he is backing up right now, and therefore, as he himself has said just a few minutes ago, is going to hit somebody, I got another response, which was both polite and full of concern for my well being. Quote: "go back to your own country, retard!" And with that, the truck sped away.

While this is one of the most vivid episodes, it is not the only one. In fact, I meet nice people with similar level of concern for my well being probably every other day. While this still beats Moscow (where I was born and grew up) by far, it is a very big step in Moscow's direction compared to Seattle.

Camping: the Massachusetts style!

When I was young, strong and flexible, I did my fair share of backpacking. And not in Seattle, mind you! That golden period of my life I spent in and around Moscow, Russia. Winter temperatures there can go as low as -10°F (yes, that's minus ten degrees) or even -20°F. But that rarely stops real, hardcore backpackers.

Here's how a typical morning of a backpacker looks.
You wake up about an hour before the rest of the team, get out of the tent, find your boots and start hitting them with the reverse side of an axe until they become soft and flexible again. Then you put them on, turn the axe around, and set off to find some firewood. Firewood grows in abundance around the camp, but you have to watch out for forest rangers, who have this silly affection for all living things, including trees, but excluding freezing backpackers. After you have enough firewood, you start a fire. And that usually comes just in time to save your fingers from freezing off. Once your fingers are ok, you take the can and go to find some water. If you're lucky, you go to a nearby spring or village well, otherwise you just melt some snow. And finally, when you have water and fire, you can start cooking.

(All that, of course, if you have the misfortune to be on duty on that particular day. Otherwise, you wake up comfortably with a fire ready, breakfast cooked, and your boots thawed for you)

Anyway, what was I getting at? Oh, right! Please don't take the below rant as "another fat, bald, middle-aged american who is unable to spend a day outside of his air-conditioned car or cushy couch". Yes, I'm fat and middle-aged (not bald, though - thanks to The Ultimate Hairdresser up there), but I'm more than able to pull off that trick. And I don't have a cushy couch.

Once upon a time, we have decided that city life is ok, but we want some nature. Ok, done: here's a reservation for a yurt at the Nickerson State Park in the middle of Cape Cod. Four beautiful lakes, serene forest, great place to rest. So why yurt, why not tent - would you ask? Oh, well, I have this little complication - two little kids. Either we're too lazy, or the kids are so special, but the tent doesn't work, no way. They need to sleep in bed, and in two separate ones.

But turned out, that's not the end of the story. Turned out, spoiled little bastards also need to sleep in warm beds. Who whould think?! Well, we would. We were seriously worried about it when we first set out to travel along the coast of Oregon and California (with only one kid at the time), but it turned out ok: every yurt/cabin/whatever they have on the West Coast has a heater inside. Of course, you're not allowed to bring your own heater (fire safety, you know), but the existing one works pretty good.

Well, not in Massachusetts. Why am I not surprised anymore? Must be a bad sign... In the great Nickerson State Park, there are no heaters in the yurts. And yes, you can bring your own one, but wait, you must be careful, because circuit breakers are for 15 amps, and there is no way to turn them back on in the middle of the night, because they're locked. And even if they weren't, what's the point anyway? What are you going to heat with a 15-amp heater? (still, could be better than nothing). And it turned out that this is actually not the worst it can get! Because in the equally great Otter River State Park (where we had another reservation, which we had to cancel) there are also no heaters, but you're also not allowed to bring your own. A warm welcome!

This little cold fact is especially amazing when you consider the climate difference: there's never snow in Oregon and California, while Massachusetts has full-blown Russian-style winters.

The construction of the yurt didn't help much either. You see, these yurts are pretty clever things. Basically, a yurt is a round wooden frame with tarp cover pulled around it. Kind of like a traveling circus, only smaller. And that round "tarp cover" is not just a piece of tarp. It has windows. The windows are fine mesh, so that you can see through them and the air flows freely. If you don't want the sun coming in, there are blinds that you can lower from the outside. But the air is still flowing. And if you don't want it to (because it's too cold, for example), there are also transparent film blinds from the inside that can be attached to the windows with velcro. Well, in good parks that is. Not in the great Nickerson State Park of Massachusetts. You see, in order to be able to attach the film to the cover, there must be an opening in the wooden frame that gives access to the window. And everywhere in Oregon and California where we were, there is. But not in the great Nickerson State Park of Massachusetts.

Anyway, somehow we managed to put the kids to sleep, wrapped in several layers of clothes, and then went to sleep ourselves. Not for long though - in the middle of the night, the nature took over and I had to step out for a minute. But the yurt's door was of a different opinion. The deadbolt that we've locked ourselves with wouldn't open. (a deadbolt is always a good idea: while I'm not overly sensitive about being eaten by a bear, I would probably be pissed off if the bear preferred one of my kids). A later investigation showed that while turning the knob clockwise caused the deadbolt to go out of the door, turning it counterclockwise did not result in full retraction of the damn thing. Surprise! After a very frustrating 30-minute struggle, I just had to kick the door open.

And in the morning... When you're in a forest, near a lake, far from civilization (well, as far as it gets in Massachusetts, anyway), what usually wakes you up in the morning? A bird chirp... A sun ray... A gentle breeze... And a concrete mixer, of course! Turns out, another yurt was being constructed at the site just next to ours, and this was just the day they were pouring concrete for foundation. And naturally, they started at 7am. Because nothing helps with hard work better than angry neighbors. I guess it's a good thing that the rangers managed to warn us about it in advance... Oh, wait a minute, they actually didn't! I guess it's a bad thing then...

As we were driving out of there in frustration, taking a last look at the park map, we've noticed the word "Playground". "Oh, good," - we thought naively, - "at least we'll let the kids run around for a bit."

Lo and behold! Here's the great Nickerson State Park Playground:



Oh, and the best part: Alcohol is strictly prohibited in all Massachusetts parks.
Happy camping!

Drink it up!

The city of Kirkland, WA (along with several other nearby cities) prides itself on the quality of tap water. "You can even drink the water right out of your faucet" - they say in their newsletter. "So what?" - I always thought to myself, - "This is OK water, nothing particularly great... Not like it's some kind of mineral spring miracle water, right? And besides, I always used to drink water right out of the faucet, what's so special about that?"

Well, as it is becoming more and more of a tradition, I was dead wrong about that. Turns out, it is pretty special. Turns out, that really was great tap water.

The best way to get rid of naïve illusions? Just drink from a Boston faucet! Wait, what the heck am I talking about?! You don't even have to drink (might actually be dangerous) - just smell it.

No, really. The tap water in Boston smells like garbage. And I'm not exaggerating here: it really, really, smells exactly like the inside of my kitchen trash can (and for those in doubt, I'd clarify: the trash can itself is located on the other side of the kitchen - farthest from the sink).

We actually have a water filter installed (a good one, not that junk type that you screw on the end of your faucet), and I'm used to put a couple drops of lemon juice in my water glass, but even these measures don't eliminate the smell completely.

Yes, I've heard that story about old pipes, most of which are leaking, and it's very expensive to replace them, but they're still doing their best, blah-blah-blah... But wait a minute! Ok, the pipes are old. And leaking. But I still don't see where the trash smell would come from. Is it that all the good smell is leaking out of old pipes, and only the bad smell stays in, just to spoil our lives, because, you know, it's just bad? Or is it that somehow something external is leaking into the pipes? Well, that external stuff must be under a lot of pressure then: you know, the water in the pipes is under pressure, so you have to have even greater pressure to sneak something in.

And speaking about the old pipes. Just about a week ago, one of those broke down. A big one. Or, to say it more precisely, the big one. The pipe in the city of Weston that all the water for the eastern Massachusetts goes through. That includes Boston, Brookline, Newton, Cambridge, and a couple dozens other cities.

[Update: according to a nice anonymous commenter, Cambridge was not affected. It has it's own water supply]

Of course, in the richest country in the world, in the most "for-the-people-by-the-people" state in that country, there must be a back up. Some kind of reserve, just for this kind of situation. And there was, of course, mind you. But guess what? Not for drinking. So the Water and Sewer Commission has issued a "boil order" - that is, all the good people of eastern Massachusetts, please be so kind and boil your water before drinking, while we're trying to clean up the mess. And for the whole week (there was apparently no way to fix it quicker than that), all the good people of eastern Massachusetts were boiling their water and saving it in pans and pitchers to cool down - because, just coincidentally, this turned out to be some of the unusually hot days for this time of year, so nobody wanted to drink it hot.

A quick side note: some of the Starbucks coffee shops that I've happened to come by were closed, with a note on their doors saying: "We're sorry, but our corporate office ordered us to close due to water pipe break". Poor Seattle-based Starbucks corporation, scared to death by some minor disturbance like this. It sits on it's clean water supply and just doesn't know what the real life is, apparently.

Car robbery: sad and even sadder

Imagine your car was broken into. Happens a lot in Boston: a big city, high crime rate, whatcha gonna do? Actually, to think about it, pretty amazing thing, considering the hoards of  police officers I see around...

But anyway, say your car was broken into. And you weren't around, of course, because if you were, it wouldn't have happened in the first place... I hope so at least :-)

The glass is broken, the recently installed $500 radio is missing, and the mess of wires hangs out of the dashboard, sadly reminding of the great days of great music that are to be no more. And the dashboard itself is probably damaged beyond repair as well.

Sad. Annoying. Expensive (unless your insurance is really nice).

But prepare to become even sadder, more annoyed, and bear more expenses! Because, chances are, now you also owe a hundred or two to the local impound shop.

WTF?! Turns out, if a police officer walks down the street and finds a car with a broken window, missing windshield, broken door lock, or whatever else evidence of recent robbery, he may, at his discretion (meaning, he can, but does not have to), order the car impounded to by the local city-contracted impound shop.

Nice service, I guess... You know, just to keep the car from more vandalism and preserve the nice street appearance...

But here's the bummer: you pay.

Not only doesn't the city help you to get out of the mess, but it also kicks you in the groin once more, just to make sure you're really in pain.

Once again: nice job keeping people safe and comfortable. Real Common Wealth, Massachusetts. Bravo!

Registry of Motor Vechicles

The other day, I went to the RMV to get a Mass license plate for my ol' good Honda Odyssey. You know, they require you to get one - or else.
Ok, whatever, can do that.

First, I tried to find out if I actually had to get the plate. I mean, maybe some states don't require it, you never know... One might expect that such information is freely available on the RMV's website. But one would be wrong. Next thing, one would probably try to call them and ask. But one would have a hard time finding a phone number. Bummer.

Ok, never mind, I'll go and ask in person. A few words into the purpose for my visit, the very busy lady at the front door cut me off abruptly and handed me a ticket with number. At the very bottom, there was a small statement: "Est. wait time: 87 min." Rrrrrright...

A few days later, I finally got around to going in and actually getting the plates. Now try to guess how much is the fee for that.
I'll give you a couple of hints. In Washington, it would cost around $60. In California - around $50.

In Massachusetts? In the very same Massachusetts that one would expect to have lower government fees because is has all those taxes?
Ha! I wish! Turns out, it costs $125. Of which $50 for registration and $75 for title transfer.

Well... I'm certainly not in a position to judge how the cost gets determined... But at least, I believe, I'm entitled to know where exactly does my money go, am I not? So that's exactly what I asked them: where do those $75 go exactly?

Here's the enlightened dialog that I've had with the nice lady at the counter, and then with her supervisor, another nice lady:

- Where does the $75 payment go?
- It goes to pay for the title transfer.
- Yes, I understand. But where do those money go exactly?
- They go to pay for the title transfer.
- Yes, yes. But after that? What does it pay for exactly?
- For the title transfer.
- Mmmm... I mean, does it pay somebody's salary? Or something else?
- No, it doesn't pay anybody's salary.
- But what does it pay for then?
- For the title transfer.
- But... Mmmm... - I was desperately trying to find the right words. - What... mmm... costs... are involved in transfering the title?

At this point, I was seriously afraid that the answer will be "A $75 fee".
But, fortunately, the answer followed:

- I don't know about that, I just work here.
- Ok. Who knows? Whom do I ask?
- I don't know...
- But... But...
- I don't know, try to call the state house, they're in charge of all the laws.
- Ok, what's the number?
- I don't know.

Ok... Gues I'll be calling the State House next thing...

The Zoo

The zoo says they work from 10 to 4 (winter hours). For Seattle's own Woodland Park Zoo (the greatest!), that would mean that I can actually come at 3:55 and spend an hour there, enjoying the park. I might not see too many animals after closing though, but still.

For the Franklin Park Zoo in Boston, that really means that if I come at 3:55, I'm not getting in. At all. Because, although closing is at 4, the last entry is at 3:30 (yeah, thanks for letting me know). And if I come at 3:30, I would be actually kicked out at 4. 


Cool place!

Coop stores

There are no coop grocery stores in Boston. 


Well, not exactly. There are some. Very little, though. To be exact, three - for all the Boston area (at least I was unable to find more). We're just very lucky to have one in 15 minutes walking from our home. 


But when we asked our first (temporary) landlord about any coop stores around, he (after asking "what stores?" and getting an explanation) said "well... umm... You will find that Boston is not like Seattle in this respect..."


Oh yes, you bet it isn't.

Toll highways

Interstate-90 is a toll freeway in Massachusetts. WTF? There are no toll freeways in Washington. Why would there be one in a state that has an income tax to pay for public things?


If you just happen to miss your exit and end up at the toll booth, and don't have any cash on you (I personally very rarely have any cash), there is no option to go back. Instead, they will give you a special receipt called "no-fund" that explains where to send the payment. And the payment in that case will include - get it - a 75 cent "administrative fee".

How to find a good doctor?

In Seattle, I got very used to good doctors. And by "good", I mean a doctor who actually tries to heal you instead of convincing you that it's normal. And who actually listens. And who doesn't always prescribe antibiotics (you know, just in case, never hurts).


In short, I've always used a naturopath as health provider. And my kids did, too. And my wife. And you know what? They really work great! They usually listen and try to actually do something. And, of course, they being naturopaths, don't forget the fact that they'll try minimally invasive things first, and only move on if it doesn't help.


Well, anyway, that's not the point. The point is, the golden days are gone.
Turns out, naturopaths are not a part of health reality in Massachusetts.


It probably has to do with the fact that there are no limitations on calling oneself a naturopath. Even I can call myself a naturopath and get away with it. So, naturally, insurance companies don't want to cover somebody when there is no way to prove their worthiness.

There are some naturopaths, mind you. But they all are not covered, you have to pay out of pocket. And of those naturopaths, the majority are from - guess where? - the Bastyr University, the very one in Kirkland, WA.


And I really can't blame the Mass insurance companies. Once upon a time, we've managed to find some woman who labeled herself a "wholistic" doctor - roughly, that's the same thing, different name. She looked ok from reviews and over the phone, so we gave it a shot. As we were filling out the initial paperwork, she casually mentioned that, you know, I sometimes prescribe homeopathy treatments, and insurance wouldn't cover it, so I charge my fee of $80 the first time, but all subsequent times it's free. Ok, whatever. 


The office was, as the tradition goes, non-medically looking: soft chairs, a sofa, a carpet - you know, warm and homey. As I sat down comfortably in a soft chair and started describing the problem, she jumped on her stool: "Honey, don't do that please!" Turns out, my 1-year-old daughter went to explore the interesting-looking drawers full of some fascinating papers. The drawers weren't child-proofed. And neither were cabinets, table figurines, glass shelf - pretty much nothing. WTF?! You're working with kids, so make an effort to accommodate them. Too much to ask?


And guess what? She did end up prescribing a homeopathy treatment, which turned out to be a little bottle of small sugar balls, which she took out of a drawer full of identically looking bottles, without any labels on them. Does it count as that $80 fee you mentioned before? Yep, it does. Ok then, what is it exactly and what does it do? It's a homeopath treatment. Yes, I understand that, but what is it? What do you mean, "what is it?" It's a homeopathy treatment! It's the same thing you've been giving him, but it's specifically formulated for him. Wait a minute! How can it be specifically formulated? You just took it out of a drawer! Look: you go to a store, you get an off-the-shelf treatment; you go to a professional, you get a specifically formulated treatment. What the... Oh, never mind, we'll be leaving now, thank you for your time...

Garbage men

I confess: I used to think Seattle garbage men were rude and negligent. Turns out, I just needed to see Boston garbage men to better appreciate the Seattle ones. 


The guys seem to be having some kind of trash can throwing contest. Or maybe they're just assholes, I don't know. On the garbage day, trash cans fly in all directions, and mostly land good 20-30 feet away from where they were originally. On one occasion, I've seen a garbage man throw a can over a street-side-parked car. The can bounced off a fence on the other side of the sidewalk and hit the car. Fortunately, the car suffered no visible damage.

The most creative contestants also try to add some spice to the show by leaving some trash in the can before throwing it. The view of a flying can leaving a trash trace behind is nothing short of spectacular.

Pedestrian traffic lights: what's the point?

Pedestrian traffic lights in Boston don't work. They just don't. Yes, they do turn white from time to time, but it seems to be controlled by a random numbers generator of some kind. Or maybe it's a system with irritation-driven negative feedback. Just out of curiosity, I once spent a whole 30 minutes at the corner of Boylston and Mass Ave in hopes of getting a white light. I counted 10 full light cycles, but the pedestrian "white" was no part of any of them, despite me (and some other people) constantly pressing the button. On some other occasions, however, I did see it turn white. Go figure!

As a result, Bostonians just ignore the lights completely. The only people that I've seen patiently wait for a white light either looked like tourists or had little kids with them. And the police keeps up with the trend by completely ignoring jaywalkers. On one occasion, I watched a woman cross a street right in the middle between two crosswalks, as she stopped in the middle of the street for a nice chat with a policemen, who stood there for no apparent reason.

Ok, you want to be hit by cars, go ahead, your choice. But then, why spend your tax dollars on installing and powering the freaking lights in the first place?

Why do streets turn corners in Boston?

Ok, I'm driving down the Tremont street, don't turn anywhere, only go straight at every traffic light. But for some strange reason, the green signs on traffic lights along my way turn into "Columbus" eventually. What the #$%ck?! Ok, calm down, stop, look at the map. Aha! For some reason, several traffic lights ago, Tremont street decided to go right instead of straight, and now I'm driving on Columbus instead. Wow!

Turns out, this is very common in Boston and happens just about every other block. And some streets are actually not even continuous - they're sprinkled in short stretches all over the city. Like the Boylston street, for example. Or Washington. I've been here for only a few months, but I already know two places that can be called "corner of Boylston and Washington". Go figure!

I always thought it to be self-evident that the very point of naming streets is to be able to determine and communicate one's location. But such "creative" layout pretty much defeats the purpose.

Lead paint law

Turns out, there is a law in Massachusetts that allows a tenant who has kids of certain age to demand the landlord to de-lead (remove lead-based paint from walls) the apartment at landlord's expense. And the landlord must obey. And of course, the landlord cannot refuse to lease the apartment on that basis. So if you happen to have an apartment with lead on the walls, you're pretty much screwed: you'll have to de-lead it sooner or later. And that's a pretty expensive procedure. Well, at least that was the original intent of the law - to screw the landlord (Mass is a social state, you know).

But guess what? While it's illegal to refuse a prospective tenant just because they have kids, it's perfectly ok to refuse without any reason at all! So that's just what landlords do. When they see small kids, they just stop returning calls and answering e-mails. More emotionally strong ones try to come up with some bogus explanations. And one realtor actually told us (shhh! don't tell anybody, it's a secret!) that he cannot show us any non-de-leaded apartments, because he would lose his business with the apartment management company.


In some other states with similar problems (a lot of old buildings with lead in paint), like Vermont, for example, you can actually sign a waiver, stating that yes, you understand that there's lead in paint, and you agree not to demand it's removal. And that simplifies things a lot. But not in Massachusetts, no way! Your rights are being carefully guarded, even from your very self.

So despite the original intent, the law is actually screwing up the most socially fragile group - lower-middle-class parents with small kids. If you have small kids, you're pretty much limited to de-leaded apartments only. And they, just coincidentally, tend to be more expensive. It's just that nobody would de-lead an apartment just for the sake of it. People usually do it as part of a major renovation, and that adds to the rent quite a bit.

Great law, Massachusets! High five!