Look into the Light

Massachusetts is a cult. I think you all should know.

I was born here. Right in the run-down former mill town of Lawrence, Massachusetts, emblazoned with the designation of being the "Stolen Car Capitol of the World". Around the age of 8 Ma and Pa Glimmer felt the need to jump the border to New Hampshire to avoid some taxes and buy a new house with a big plot of land. I didn't come back ... until now. And I've learned the hard lesson: once you leave Massachusetts, they are very unwilling to let you return.

My first indication came when I went to file my taxes. I was "rejected" as a new resident because I had the audacity to E-file. Not here, New Resident, they warned me. When you are "new", you must file a tax return ala Cave-Man and send in your taxes chiseled into stone. A blood sampling and DNA test are also required. While I was still scratching my head on this one, I changed my name (don't worry, to all of you, I'm still Glimmer). THIS is when my massive oversight was caught - I had, indeed, lived in Massachusetts before and - what's this? LEFT THE STATE? How DARE I! So the "Department of Revenue" (Mass gives their government offices other names to make sure they are really confusing to "outsiders") decided to ACCEPT my taxes, but hold my HOSTAGE refund. I'm still trying to get it back!

Next, was my trip to the RMV (that's "DMV" for all others, see what I mean?). The first trip went fine but a return trip subsequently had me flagged for a speeding ticket I received 13 years ago. Now mind you - this ticket had long since been PAID. But, the RMV "flags" you and does a little song and dance to remind you that *they* know you're a naughty driver, and so now do ALL the people behind you in line.

And, let's talk about the tickets. I mean - really? Not one parking ticket in my life and I'm up to like three or four since moving here. One because I was too close to a curb (how far away from the damn things are you SUPPOSED to be? Are they fragile or something?) and the other for not being able to decipher yet another cryptic parking sign that somehow contained instructions for all four seasons and a nuclear meltdown yet didn't manage to allude to matter at hand.

I get it Massachusetts! I promise never to leave the state again unless he's rich, owns a yacht, knows "a lot" is actually two words, and uses bacon ad both a noun and a verb. But in the meantime, please don't torture me with any Jury Duty, more obscure taxes (excise tax? what does THAT do?) or for the love of god, more parking tickets (I fear you're not listening on this last part). I'll attempt to be a good Mass girl, observe an actual "yield" sign like most of your other residents do (note: drive really, really fast), not make fun of your toll booths (I mean, advertisements? are you serious?) and not complain about any of the local sporting events (Nomar! What happened to Nomar!).

Your truly and with lots of love,
Kat Glimmer