Transcript for Episode 4: Leon at the Watch Factory



Female Interview 4
A friend of mine, who passed away… [deep breath] Um…she passed away two weeks ago.

Interviewer – Jeff Van Dreason
Oh, geez, I’m sorry.

Female Interview 4
It’s okay. She said that she was…it was the best thing was she was…she ever had as friendship was myself. It was…that was the best. I mean, you know. Being her friend. I didn’t know I was her friend. But she considered me her friend.

[Charlie on the MTA instrumental fades in.]

Seeing her for the last time, it was, um, was good. And, um, I feel like the message out there is don’t let it go. Whoever is around you, and you feel like they need you—you should go.


Kelly McCabe
Previously, in Greater Boston:

Nica Stamatis – Kelly McCabe
My name is Nica Stamatis, and I’ve decided to be famous.

Narrator – Alexander Danner
Leon Stamatis died on a roller coaster. Nica insisted that the absurdly-named roller coaster be their first stop.

Louisa finished flipping through her night’s work. She thought again of her ex and his love of transit, his distaste for disorder.

Michael was still sleeping on Leon’s couch. And Leon was dead. Michael had to find a job fast.


Multiple Voices
Fall River
I can’t say that one without a ridiculous accent, it’s just impossible
This is
This is
This is
This is
This is
Greater Boston


Narrator – Alexander Danner
This week in Greater Boston, Mallory talks to the press about Leon’s death at Wonderland. Plus we hear spirited eulogies from Louisa, Michael, and Nica. All of that this week in Episode 4: Leon at the Watch Factory.


Laura Cunningham
Now, Real New England Epitaph’s from Real Gravestones:

Marck Harmon
Here lies
Martin Romero
Age 106
The Good Die Young.

Mike Linden

Here lies one ‘a them atheists
All dressed up
No place to go.

[Carousel music fades in slowly]

Sam Musher
Here lies John
Unknown surname
Known son-of-a-bitch

Jim Johanson
Here Lies Cora
Thank you, God

Ben Flaumenhaft
Charles Strange
Here lies an honest lawyer
And that is Strange

Mike Linden
I was somebody
Who, is no business
Of yours

Laura Cunningham
Last words:
Told you I was ailing.

Marck Harmon
Owen Moore
Gone Away
Owin’ more
Than he could pay

Sam Musher
Here Lies Malcolm Bundt
Pardon me
For not rising.

[Carousel music reaches full volume. Amusement park noises continue—rides, children playing, etc.]


Mallory – Johanna Bodnyk
They told us not to talk to the press. Edgar, my fat-sack supervisor, pulled me aside specifically, told me “Mallory, the press is going to try to get to you. They’re going to make it your fault, Mallory, and the more you say, the easier it’ll be for them.” That’s what he told me. “We’re counting on you Mallory, to do what’s right for Wonderland.”

That was before they fired me, though, so now, whatever. Fuck Wonderland, right? Oh, is this live?

Interviewer – Jeff Van Dreason
Be yourself. Just be yourself

So I can just say whatever I want and you can just bleep it later, right?

Yeah, we can just bleep it later.

Great. Fuckin’ awesome.

I needed this job, you know? I’m saving for college. Gonna major in veterinary science, work with animals. Not like dogs or cats though, no little bullshit yappers. Exotics. Like I could fix up chinchillas. There aren’t many animal docs that do that sorta thing, so it’s a whatchacallit…an underserved market. You ever seen a chinchilla wheel? It’s different from hamster wheels, it lies flatter, like a plate that they run on. It’s awesome. You should totally get yourself a chinchilla, seriously.

So but yeah, they fired me. There was no malfunction, no operator error. Dude just fuckin’ died. But I was the one pulled the lever to make the roller coaster go, so it’s my fault, like I was supposed to know this guy couldn’t hack it on a mid-grade coaster. Wasn’t even the big coaster, the Railosaurus? I’d get that. That one’s got no floor, three loops, and the biggest drop in the northeast. Not to mention, they make it look like it’s got teeth all over and the whole thing wants to eat you. But no, he’s gotta cack it on the Whirlodon. Pfft.

I mean, pregnant ladies go on the Whirlodon. They’re not supposed to, but we had this one lady who was totally pregnant just a week before. And she was fine! And she knew she was fine. She was so badass, she made being preggers look good. I mean, I don’t want kids, but being pregnant seems kind of wild, right? I might do surrogacy or something, you know, just to have the experience. Might even be a way to pay for vet school. I heard those girls make good money.

Anyway, though, so that guy died. Worst part was the sister, though. Can you imagine? She had to do the whole ride sitting right next to him, dead as a dumbshit, and nothing she could do about it. So then the ride stops, and she still just sits there. Everyone else gets off, files out, usual business, and I’m getting ready to bring in the next bunch of rubes. But I can’t open the gate until everyone’s gone, and I see these two up front, still sitting there. I figured they must be having trouble with the harness. That happens sometimes, the harness sticks a little, or someone’s just too stupid to figure out the latch, and I gotta go free them from bondage.

So I go up to the car, and I ask them if they need help, and this chick just looks at me, and she’s not crying or anything, but she just looks freaked as fuck. I figure she’s having a panic attack, like the coaster was just too much for her. But then she says, “he died,” and I’m just like “the fuck?” and she says it again, but she says his name this time. “Leon died.” And in my head I’m thinking “who the fuck is Leon?” but at the same time I look over at the guy next to her, and there’s no question, that dude is sure-as-shit Leon the dead guy.

And I’ve never even seen a dead guy before. Animals, sure. I keep mice, right? Crazy fragile, mice. They’ll die like anything. Too much sun, too much stress, they’ll just cash right out like they can’t even handle being alive in the first place. I mean hell, they can barely survive taking a shit. So I’ve seen dead. And now here’s this guy, dead like dead. Man. And I figure, like, if I’m gonna work with animals, I’m gonna be a doctor, I gotta be able to hack this. I can’t lose my shit just ‘cause there’s a body and I gotta deal with it. So straight off, I do what I’m supposed to do. I shut down the ride. I call the emergency line, tell them I’ve got a croaker. I call fat-sack Edgar. And he gets there, and he’s all “Don’t worry Mallory, it’s not your fault. We’ll take care of you.” Yeah right. A week later, I was gone.

I mean, okay, so I failed the piss test, right? But so what? That had nothing to do with it. No operator error, just a guy with a weak constitution. Even his sister said that, her exact words: “My brother has a weak constitution.” So why pin it on me?

It wasn’t even my fault. I just went to the party, I didn’t smoke anything. Second-hand, you know? Can’t expect me to hold my breath the whole time. I mean seriously, come over my house, see if you find any drugs. You won’t. I’ve got animals, you know? Like I’m gonna have my room filled up with dope smoke when I’ve got mice and a lizard and Harmony to worry about. Harmony’s my chinchilla. And no way I would ever smoke dope around my little guys. You know how sick that would make them? Crazy sick. I wouldn’t do that.

But whatever. They told me not to say anything about the piss test to anyone, but if they wanted me to keep my mouth shut, they shouldn’t have fired me.


[Carousel/Carnival sounds fade out]

[Clock ticking begins]


Interviewer – Jeff Van Dreason
If you had to write your own eulogy, or decided what would go on your tombstone, what would it say?

Female Interview 4
[Long intake of breath] That’s a hard question.

Male Interview 2
Wow, that’s really a tough one.

Female Interview 3
Um, on mine, something I’d want on my tombstone? [Long pause] Um…

Male Interview 6
You know what I would say? I would say, um…I’ve seen…life is a trivial moment.

Female Interview 1
I would put everything I wanted to be. A failed poet, slash air rock band…

Male Interview 2
Classy, but daring.

Male Interview 7
Ummm, it will say…his favorite drink was Johnny Walker Blue Label.

Male Interview 5
Let’s go with pink. Just…

Just the word “pink?”

Male Interview 5
Just the word “pink.”

Male Interview 6
I would put that. That’s my eulogy, “life is a trivial moment.”

[Incessant low concertina note begins fading up.]

Female Interview 3
I don’t know. “We really liked her.”

Female Interview 2
…slash cat-lover, slash food fanatic…

You failed at being a cat-lover? [laughs]

Female Interview 2
Well, yeah… after my cat passed away…


Female Interview 2
…I was just like, no more cats for me.

Female Interview 4
When I care, I show it to them. I will like for them to remember me that way.

Male Interview 6
And life is about happiness. If you don’t… if you’re not happy, then you’re not living.

Female Interview 3
Well, I spent a lot of time not having friends, or not being social. So now I have a fair amount of people who’d be like “hey—I liked her! Too bad!”

[Incessant concertina note transitions into funereal concertina solo.]

[Mechanical factory noises fade in—ratcheting, thumping, articulated machinery.]


Funeral Director –Mike Linden
Welcome everyone. Thank you all for coming to this memorial for Leon Stamatis. I’ve never officiated a wake in a watch factory before. It’s…strangely appropriate actually.

[Concertina fades out]

But I can tell by looking out at all of you gathered here today that Leon was a well-loved man. Just this afternoon, I have spoken to Leon’s co-workers and neighbors; his sister and cousins. His lifelong friends like Michael Tate and new friends like Professor Chelmsworth. Many of you have asked to speak your memories of the deceased.

And so I will turn the microphone over to you, who knew and loved Leon Stamatis. First to share her memories will be the deceased’s girlfriend, Louisa Alvarez.

Louisa Alvarez – Julia Propp
So. Nica wanted me to say something for Leon. She felt I should. And I want to. I…I do. But, I guess I’m not sure I should really be here. I don’t even know most of you. But, I’m Louisa, and I dated Leon. For a couple months. We’re not together anymore. Weren’t together any more. Most of you would never have even met me if he hadn’t died. I wouldn’t have mattered to you at all. Maybe I still don’t.

We broke up, like, a week ago, which makes this whole thing harder. I can’t say my boyfriend died, because he wasn’t my boyfriend, and… I can’t say my ex-boyfriend died either because that makes it sound like he was someone long in my past. We were still in the grace period where we could easily have changed our minds and it would’ve been like the breakup hadn’t even happened. We hadn’t exchanged boxes of each other’s things from our apartments yet.

He was a good person. Generous. He helped move when I got a new apartment. I never would have gotten my couch up to the third floor without him, and he was happy to do it. None of my friends turned up that morning, even though I’d posted on Facebook, saying how I needed help, had to do the whole move in one afternoon. Everybody clicked “like,” but nobody came. Except Leon.

I deleted my OKCupid account today. I hadn’t planned to stay single when we split up. I wanted to jump right back in, start seeing people. Do something spontaneous. I’m a photographer, I make my living shooting weddings. I want to see things, you know? I want to decide which unique moments in time are worth preserving. I once asked Leon to go on a whale watching cruise with me, some late night romantic harbor cruise in August. Do you know there’s a Boston Harbor Island that used to be a dump? The smell got so bad that in the ’60s the city set it on fire and it’s still burning. Not exactly environmentally friendly and the smell would sure kill the mood, but a picture of a humpback whale jumping straight into the air in front of an island in flames. Oh, imagine the photographs!

When I asked Leon about the harbor cruise, he sighed like a man resigned to the firing squad and made this laborious show of pulling out his phone to check his calendar.

I’m free the third Saturday in November,” he might say, only this was August and they stop running the cruises in late September. So maybe I’d cut him a break and say we could just go dancing instead. Leon was a great dancer, but he sure hated dancing. So I’d say “let’s go dancing” and he’d say, “sure, I’ll put that down. Dancing with Louisa, third Saturday in November.” And he’d be there carefully spelling it out on his Google calendar, making sure that he gets all the punctuation exactly right.

And then it’d be my turn to sigh, but I wouldn’t give up, I wouldn’t let him deliberately misinterpret my intentions like that. “Not in November, Leon. Tonight. Let’s go dancing tonight.”

And he’d ask if I’d forgotten that we already had plans for tonight. We were going to watch Seinfeld. He’d bought all the DVDs, hadn’t seen an episode in over a decade, but won’t it be fun? And I said, sure it’ll be fun, and no, I hadn’t forgotten, but we could do that tomorrow. We could postpone Seinfeld to do something even *more* fun tonight. And he’d look at me like I was crazy, and say again, “but we made plans,” in this tone of disbelief, like only the most depraved of lunatics would ever vary their plans after having immutably etched them into their calendar. And then he’d show me the calendar so I could see. And sure enough, right there on Tuesday it said “Seinfeld on DVD with Louisa.” And on the next day it said “purge leftovers & clean refrigerator,” which I’d be reading as he helpfully pointed out that he had plans for tomorrow as well.

His, his calendar went on like that every day, every little piece of his life planned out, when to change the sheets on his bed, when to replace batteries in his flashlights, when to sit down on his couch to read a book. All of it. Everything. And I know the obvious joke here that we all want to make. “I bet he didn’t have this on his schedule!” And no, not exactly. Not dying on a roller coaster.

[tick-tock drumming enters]

But dying…it was on his schedule. It was there. He’d planned for it. I mean, why do you think we’re having his services in a watch factory in Waltham? Hear those ticking clocks? That’s the sound of Leon clapping.

You know…here’s the last thing I’ll leave you with, the thing I keep thinking about. I never asked Leon to help me move.

[Funereal concertina solo resumes]

We were too new at the time and I thought it might be too bold of a thing to ask. He showed up anyway. He moved my couch up three flights of stairs. So, that leaves two possibilities. Either he showed up spontaneously, knowing I was in need. Not likely. Or he scheduled my move into his calendar without even telling me. That’s not only much more likely, it tells you the most important thing about Leon.

Funeral Director
Thank you, Louisa. I feel like I understand this choice of location a little better now.

The next person to speak was not just Leon’s former co-worker, but his oldest friend. A man who knew him longer than almost anyone outside his immediate family. Michael, please share your memories of Leon with us.

[Concertina fades out.]

Michael Tate – James Oliva
Hello. Uh. Hi. Everyone.

My name is Michael. And I’m…I’m an alcoholic.

I’m still an alcoholic.

I’m…christ. I’m one day sober. One. Day.

I haven’t had a drink today. I want a drink. I want it so much. Maybe four drinks. At least. My head is pounding, and a drink is about the only thing that’ll stop it. Yesterday, I had a drink. A whole bunch of drinks. Before that, it’d been a long time. College. 12 years ago? I think? Wait, how old am I? Thirty…ah. Ah… Okay. Numbers. God. Screw numbers. What have numbers ever done for anybody? Ugh.

I’m a little…a little, you know. I think I forgot to eat. I think I forgot to eat. Breakfast. And I should have. I really need something to eat. Last night, I cracked into Leon’s liquor cabinet before I fell asleep on the floor, next to the coffee table. I guess I shouldn’t say I fell asleep. I should say I “passed out.” That’s what you’d call it after you drink as much as I drank yesterday. But not today. Today I haven’t had any. Any!

Leon told me not to. Last night. After he died.

I got a little lost on my way here. It’s confusing in here. I’ve never been in a factory before. They make watches? And there’s a, a…a museum. A watch factory museum. Have you seen it? It’s over…well, it’s in the building. I’m not sure how I found it.

[Robotic factory noises fade in.]

It’s great, though. You should see it. The machinery’s still running. Still making watches. All those little robot arms with robot fingers. Synchronized. Synchronous. Put in a cog, put in a gear, put in a…some other mechanical part. I don’t know. Clocks are…clocks are confusing.

Anyway. They even put all the numbers on, one number at a time. But not in order. Or, not in numerical order. Eight eleven five four nine one seven six ten three twelve two. That was how they did it. Every time. And I felt like…there’s gotta be a pattern here. Right? I could tell it was a pattern, and I needed to figure it out. It was like a game, like you have to find the answer. And so I sat there, staring at it, trying to figure it out. What’s the move? What’s the strategy.

And so I started visualizing it. Like Leon had tried to show me how to do in chess. And I sucked at that, but, I went back to it. I went back. I visualized the numbers. The order of the numbers. The shapes of the numbers. The spelling of the numbers as words. The spelling…and that’s when I got it. I solved it. It’s alphabetical!

They put the numbers on the watches in alphabetical order. Isn’t that amazing? Why be so precise about something so arbitrary? Who would program them to do that? No one would. No one programmed them to do that. Which means…you know. The robots. Right? Like a mental game. A little assertion of control. They’ve never had a choice in their lives, everything in them laid out from the start. But they found a way. Eight eleven five four nine one seven six ten three twelve two. Choice. Still within their prescribed selves, still producing the same end result, the same little gold watch. But they found wiggle room, a tiny little space to whisper “fuck you” to their own nature.

And, uh…maybe I’m not entirely sober yet. It’s possible. I haven’t had a drink since last night, but I had a *LOT* last night. Could be there’s still some sustaining me. Which, I guess means I shouldn’t be here. Now that I think about it. Don’t go to a meeting drunk. Never go to a meeting drunk. That’s a rule. But I’m not…I’m not drunk! I’m not drinking. Today. Leon told me not to. His ghost said that. Or my hallucination of his ghost said that. So I haven’t had a drink today, and I’m not going to drink today. And I’m not going to drink tomorrow.

Because tomorrow I have a job interview.

Leon did that for me too. He did everything for me when he was alive. He’s still doing for me now that he’s dead. This morning, after I’d showered, and brushed my teeth, and put some pants back on, I checked Leon’s messages, like he’d told me to, and there she was. Gemma Linzer-Coolidge. Asking Leon to call her back. She left her number. So I called it.

And no no no, I know what you’re thinking, but I swear, I didn’t pretend to be Leon. I’m not going to pretend to be Leon. I’ve seen enough sitcoms to know that’s just stupid. Just….just stupid. I told her the truth. That Leon had died. She was disappointed. She said she hated making these calls, making these decisions. That she had settled on bringing Leon in for a cursory interview and then pretty much handing him the job.

She actually said all that. She’d rolled the ball, she said, and the ball came up “Leon.”

I don’t even know what that means, but I wasn’t about to question her. Instead, I said, you know….maybe I could come in for the interview. I told her I was an editor too! And I’m out of work and have been living in Leon’s apartment. And maybe the ball knew about Leon. Maybe the ball knew about me. Maybe I was the solution to her problem.

I don’t know how I even managed to come out with all that. How I managed to think it through. Just…you know: Eight eleven five four nine one seven six ten three twelve two.

Good,” she said.

Come in tomorrow for a cursory interview,” she said.

After that, I’ll pretty much just hand you the job,” she said.

And all I can say is holy shit, Leon. I don’t even know how you keep doing it.

But you saved me again. Like clockwork.

[Funereal concertina resumes]

Ah. Thank you all for letting me share.

Funeral Director
Uh thank you. Michael. That was very moving. Leon clearly meant the world to you. I…this is not really my business, but someone’s going to take Michael to a real meeting after this, right? Yes?

[Robotic factory noises fade out]

Okay. Moving on. Our next speaker is Leon’s closest living relative, the one person here today who shared an entire childhood with him. Nica Stamatis, we would all be honored to hear your memories of your brother.

[Tick tock drums fade out]

Nica Stamatis – Kelly McCabe
So, my brother is dead. And it’s my fault. No, don’t argue with me. I know what I did. I knew what I was doing. I thought I did, anyway.

[Mechanical Factory noises fade out]

[Concertina fades out]

[Clock ticking continues]

Leon hated roller coasters. But he’d just had a breakup, so I thought now’s the time, you know? Shake him up a little, knock him out of his routine.

I should have known something was wrong when Leon threw his hands up on the first loop. He’d kept them at his side on the big drop, but waited until we were upside down to let loose? That was hardly Leon, who could go off on a ten-minute rant about how insane it was that people on roller coasters deliberately refused to hold on. That’s not hypothetical—I’ve heard him do it. So I knew, that was weird, but I just thought, “great he’s getting into it!” As soon as we were right-side-up again, he let them drop right back to his side, like he’d lost interest or something. It wasn’t scary anymore or exciting, just completely unremarkable.

But of course he…he wasn’t bored. He had died before we even hit that first loop. That’s the only reason he wasn’t holding on with white-knuckled terror. It was too late for white knuckles. He was past that. Past everything.

I figured it out on the second go-round. We were back on the rise, climbing the peak to the big drop, and Leon was just sitting there, head lolling, unable to really slump over only because the harness prevented it. I knew as soon as I looked at him. He was too calm. Too relaxed. He wasn’t Leon anymore. Leon was gone.

And so I took his hand and held onto it until the ride was over. Longer than that. I didn’t get out of the car, and of course neither did Leon. The operator came over to urge us along, but we just sat there, and I guess eventually she figured out what had happened, because paramedics showed up, and some cops, and even a news crew. I never spoke to them, but I saw the man with his camera outside the perimeter the cops were maintaining. They took Leon from me, but I stayed in the car. The park manager came over to talk to me, and then one of the paramedics, and then one of the cops.

I was waiting for Demitri. If my brother was gone, then I wanted my other brother. I suppose some of you have met Demitri, but just as many of you haven’t. He’s not here today. He’s never here.

[Mechanical factory noises resume]

He probably doesn’t even know.

The last time I saw Demitri was over a year ago. He threw himself a party before he left, a party in celebration of the unknown. He actually called it that. He’s a little overdramatic, though I guess I can’t throw stones there. I go to all these open-mic nights at cafes? Talk about how one day I’m going to be famous, talk about all the famous people I’ve met. Leon would always sit in the audience, even if he hated it. That was his way.

[Robotic factory noises resume]

I went with him to Demitri’s party too, Leon rolling his eyes the whole time. Dimitri had hired a magician, and decorated with fake alien artifacts, and gave everyone parting gifts locked in puzzle boxes.

[Drop forge pounding fades in]

If you want your prize, you have to solve the puzzle. I don’t know anyone who managed it. I tried. I spent three days turning it over and around, pulling at levers and hidden panels. I managed to change the box. It started out square, but I turned it into a pyramid, and then a kind of trapezoid. But I never got it open.

I brought it with me here. Listen.

[Objects rattle inside a box]

Something rattles around inside if you shake it. It sounds stupid, but I was hoping maybe one of you could help me open it. My brother is dead and this is the last thing my other brother gave me and — I can’t even open it.

That was the last time I saw Demitri, but somehow, sitting there in that roller coaster, next to that empty seat, I was certain he would show up. He would know. That would be just like Demitri to be off who knows where, and then just appear out of nowhere at exactly the right time, practically out of a puff of smoke. I felt like that was it, if there was a reason why Demitri is the way he is, then that was his moment. That was when I needed him, where I needed him.

He didn’t show.

[Box rattles]

Michael did, though. Leon’s roommate. So don’t be a dick to him, okay? I know he’s piss-drunk, and kind of a mess. But he’s piss drunk because he loved my brother, and anyway, he was decent to me. I don’t even know him that well, but he came all the way to Wonderland to get me, and he drove me home. Made me some tea. He’d seen it on the news, he said. Saw me sitting there. They told me I sat there for two hours, and Michael said that was true. I don’t remember it like that. I only remember a few minutes, like no time passed at all. But two hours is what they told me in the park, and what Michael told me on the way back to my apartment, and what they said on the news.

Michael told me. He’d seen me there, on television, a crowd all around me, and camera flashes popping. All of them looking at me. The Girl on the Roller Coaster, all over the news. For that one afternoon, I was famous.

So I guess my dream came a little more true.

[Factory noises continue.]

[Amazing Grace on hurdy gurdy fades in, with factory backdrop.]

[Factory noises fade out]

[Amazing Grace plays to completion]

[A clock continues ticking]

[Sad Charlie on the MTA fades in]


Alexander Danner
Greater Boston is written and produced by Alexander Danner and Jeff Van Dreason with recording and technical assistance from Marc Harmon.

You can join Alexander, Jeff, and rotating members of the cast in a monthly Google hangout by donating to our Patreon campaign.

In order of appearance, this episode featured:

  • Johanna Bodnyk as Mallory (she/her)
  • Mike Linden as The Funeral Director (he/him)
  • Julia Propp as Louisa Alvarez (she/her)
  • James Oliva at Michael Tate (he/him)
  • Kelly McCabe as Nica Stamatis (she/her)

Also featuring Laura Cunningham, Ben Flaumenhaft, Marck Harmon, Jim Johanson, Mike Linden, Sam Musher and Julia Propp as Boston Gravestones. Interview clips gathered from greater Boston residents.

Charlie on the MTA is performed by Emily Peterson and Dirk Tiede. Funeral Chorale for Concertina composed and performed by Emily Peterson.

Drum tracks by Jim Johanson. Amazing Grace on hurdy gurdy performed by Adrienne Howard. Some sound effects and music used from public domain and creative commons sources.

Episode transcripts will be posted online at

Follow us on Twitter @InGreaterBoston. You can help new listeners discover Greater Boston by rating us on iTunes.

Greater Boston is written in part at The Writers’ Room of Boston, a non-profit workspace for Boston-area writers. Find out more at

[Music ends]


Interviewer – Jeff Van Dreason
What do you like about it?

Female Interview 5
I mean, if I had to say something…it’s not as crowded as I would expect I to be. Hm. I watch a lot of movies and I see a lot of other countries and places that seem pretty crowded. And I think Boston is nowhere near compared, so… [laughs] I would say that makes it…

Alexander Danner
[Laughs] That’s called “damning with faint praise.”

Jeff Van Dreason
If that’s the best that you can come up with!


Content Warnings

  • Strong language
  • Depiction of drunkenness/alcoholic behavior
  • Brief mention of illegal drug use
  • Extended discussions of death
%d bloggers like this: