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The Clam has been graced with an awesome social media person and contributor in Brooke Welty, who at parties regales us of her life before moving here two years ago. We pleaded with her to share with the world her story of the vast expanse of America outside the cut bridge.

Not long after moving to Gloucester, I began to experience a strange sensation. It was a feeling of dread which I couldn’t place at first. It happened mainly on the weekends, when I didn’t have to work or go anywhere in particular, and then it hit me:

I didn’t want to go over the damned bridge if I didn’t have to.

The symptoms included audible groaning, procrastination, and desperate attempts to find what I needed elsewhere in town, even if that meant paying more. I know I’m not alone in this. For some reason, the city of Gloucester can suck away the willingness to leave, like a motivation vampire.

It’s ridiculous, really. My husband and I don’t even go anywhere on the weekends. We sit on the deck, look at our garden, and take bets on how long it’ll take the cat to vomit up all that grass he just ate. (The answer is as soon as he gets back inside.)

I can’t be bothered to drive my ass over the bridge. Which is why I’m doing a travel piece of sorts: so you don’t have to. Really it’s an opportunity for me to write another piece, but since I’m way less familiar with Gloucester than the other Clams are, I’m writing about the only thing I can.

WE’LL START WITH PENNSYLVANIA.

Before I get started, let me just get this out of the way: Pennsylvania has Dunkin Donuts, so DON’T PANIC. We love the Dunk just as much as you do.

Moving on!

When people up here find out where I’m from, the first question I’m usually asked is:
“Oh, Amish Country?”

I’m not from the Lancaster area, which is what most people mean when they say Amish Country. I’m from the northern central part of the state (and it is a pretty big state) near a “city” called Williamsport. But…yes. Pretty much all of Pennsylvania is Amish country, to be honest. You’ll be less apt to see Amish folks in places like Pittsburgh and Philly, but it would by no means be weird. The state is crawling with Amish, and you’ll realize this the first time you run over a pile of horse shit on a major highway or spend some time behind a buggy at a red light. The Amish are alright neighbors, really. If you need a barn raised or a quilt sewn, you’re all set. Something you might not know is that Amish kids get up to just as much trouble as regular folks, and tales of Amish kids raising quaint and adorable hell abound. (It’s the hats.)

Sometimes, they bowl.

Pennsylvania itself is gorgeous. Most of it anyway. The Northeastern part of the state (the Scranton area, for you fans of The Office) is pretty much an armpit, covered in centuries worth of coal soot and the dust from dried out, broken dreams of moving somewhere better. Even the ground there is on fire (Centralia. Creepy name, creepy place, mecca for drunken students and emo kids looking for that perfect “I’m a creature of the night” photo.) Seriously just avoid it all together.

Most of Pennsylvania (It’s so weird typing it out. People from Pennsylvania don’t ever say it. Really. We just say PA, as if it’s too much effort. No other state does this, to my knowledge. You’d never say “I’m from MA” but people from PA do it routinely, so there you go) is forest. Pausing the snark for a moment, I will just say, it really is gorgeous. Huge forests, rivers, lakes, wildlife…it really is lovely. I miss the scenery sometimes, when I’m driving through the endless suburb that is Eastern Massachusetts. Once you get south of Cape Ann, it’s just literally one unending town, with no breaks or pauses in between. It feels like one giant city with neighborhoods that were once independent towns.

That said, the possibility of death by deer is very real. Everyone I know from PA has, at some point, hit a deer, or has had a near miss. I hit one, with my dad years ago. We weren’t going too fast, and he just got up and gave us a scathing glare before running off into the field. Here’s the thing – if you’re driving at full speed, you can literally be killed, or seriously fucked up, if you hit a deer. Many cars have been totaled this way.

The list of animals I have hit, or almost hit, is impressive.

1. Deer (hit – survived)
2. Bear (almost)
3. Racoon (almost)
4. Fox (almost)
5. Coyote (almost)
6. Owl (hit – survived)
7. Groundhog (almost)
8. Sparrow (hit – deceased. I found him jammed into the grill of my car.)
9. Turkey (missed)

Wait for the walk signal, damnit.

Someone once said of PA “There’s Philly in the East, Pittsburgh in the west, and Alabama in between.”

This is 100% true.

Trucks festooned with Confederate flag stickers (Often paired tastefully with a gun rack and truck nuts) are common, and you’ll see plenty a large rednecks dressed in the chosen garb of cammo with a Confederate flag t shirt or hat. We once saw a bumper sticker which read “DON’T RE-NIG IN 2012” It only strengthened our resolve to get the hell out of PA. There’s not really much more I need to say on that, is there?

The flag actually comes standard from the factory.

The other important thing to know about PA is that we eat some weird food. Until I moved here, I had no idea that red beet pickled eggs were an oddity. I still get angry at the sight of a salad bar which doesn’t have a little vat of purple eggs and beets. And how could I mention PA without bringing up scrapple? What the hell is scrapple, you might ask? The answer is…well you don’t really want to know. It’s a meat based product (If you call snouts, ears, and offal meat. Maybe I should just say “animal based) which is baked in a bread tin, fried and then covered with maple syrup. But don’t let that scare you because you’ll see it on breakfast menus all over the state. And those Amish folks I mentioned before can be seen hawking their delicious produce and baked goods from little stands along pretty much any back road you take. I have no idea what shoo-fly pie is, other than a molassesy treat. Try it.

That pretty much sums up PA. Beautiful scenery, nice people, some really shitty people, Amish people. Visit PA if you’re a fan of the outdoors, casual racism, and shoo-fly pie.

At risk to her personal sanity, Executive Clameditor KT Toomey has gone above and beyond the call to bring you recaps of the National Geographic reality show ‘Wicked Tuna’.

Are the tuna wicked or simply just misunderstood?

We owe her much, especially upon the discovery that to maintain the proper psychological state for viewing, she had increasingly come to depend on a risky mixture of Redbull and the powdered skin of a very specific desert toad. Therefore. we may have reached the practical limit of tuna recapping her now shattered psyche can endure.

This became clear during a staff meeting at Clammedia Tower. Toomey threatened a staffer who requested more Wicked Tuna content in order to drive the all important ‘hits’ that are the lifeblood of this operation. “No fuckin’ way,” she stammered. “I’ll do that piece on the ‘Most Noxious Porta Potties of Fiesta’ but no more fuckin’ tuna. I’ll cut a bitch. I mean it.” Her frighteningly dilated eyes led us to believe her; along with the bottom-bracket wrench she waved menacingly.

Actual photo

So, alas, this task has fallen to me. With gusto I delved into research regarding all manner of the tribe Thunnini. I even went so far as to lie down in the tinned fish aisle at the Basket in order to commune with their succulent flesh, but wound up receiving what I assure you was a wholly unnecessary shot of NARCAN from an overzealous EMT. Despite my efforts, the very nature of enterprise seemed as hard to grasp as the quicksilver flowing in the veins of these noble creatures.

In researching the show however, I did discover a highly intriguing fact: The TV genre of ‘reality show’ is singularly dependent on gathering huge amounts of footage and subsequently only using select bits to create a narrative (often very different from what actually occurred when originally shot). A quick LinkedIn search and a couple of American Apparel gift cards later and we’d convinced an intern over at the Geographic to provide us with a hard drive chock full of deleted scenes.

What we found will shock you, as we say here on the Interblogs.

There were other boats! There were at least four other boats entirely cut from the storyline. We all love the Hard Merchandise for their shouting, the fraternal bond of the FV Miss Sambvca and OSHA’s impaired operator experiment gone awry that are the loveable mopheads of ‘Stonerboat’, but what of the other boats that never made the final cut?

As a public service The Clam presents the vessels relegated to the virtual cutting room floor leaving us viewers, we believe, with a perhaps clearer but far less dimensionalized narrative.

FV Chemical Romance:

The Boat: A collection of black-clad, dyed hair sadboys in mascara and skinny jeans aboard a 39’ Duffy was rigged to harpoon before the crew realized they would have to go out in the sunshine to use this method.

Tuna live in a a sea of tears, a sea that never ends

The Story: Chemical Romance had a rough time of it during the season. The preference of putting out gear only at night proved operationally awkward and the crew squabbled constantly about Fall Out Boy’s Warped Tour ruining the band’s credibility. They did, however, produce the best self-reflective poetry of any of the competitors.

FV Pink Flamingos

The Boat: Painted a searing Hollywood cerise, this 42 footer was impossible to ignore with her impressive height and full-throated engine.

Oh the fish is still alive? I’ll get it

The Story: Loud and proud her crew of cross-dressing tuna hunters took on the unforgiving sea and the “butch” look as equal challenges. It became clear early on that being able to land a 600 pounder in size 12 stillettos was shaming the crews of other boats. Rightly fearing never seeing any exposure, they cut a prize-quality bluefin off the line following an alert on the satellite feed that Ru Paul  had opened a casting call for a sixth season of Drag Race. Last seen heading south toward NYC under full power.

FV Crystal Method

The Boat: Stripped of her copper, wire, plumbing, electronics, safety gear and seat cushions, this former deep-water lobsterboat refused to quit even when the crew ran her single diesel engine to the max with no oil for days on end.

There were some pretty great merchandising tie-ins, however

The Story: It’s no surprise the producers chose the story of the Pin Wheel (aka Stonerboat) over the shirtless and twitchy crew of what became known in the fishery that summer as “Tweakerboat”. As energetic as they were directionless, the Crystal could be seen blazing around chasing any hint of a fish always repeating the line “we need this, we need this so goddamn baaaad!” through gritted teeth. Bested by other vessels in both catch and personal hygiene, she exploded mysteriously halfway through the season.

FVMFA

The boat: A wooden inboard of the classic style below the waterline, above the deliberately adverse choice of materials and shapes challenges the viewers of Wicked Tuna to ask, “what is a boat?”

This is our boat

The Story: Unable to find jobs in the food service sector, members of this highly educated crew loaded up on yellowtail and downloads of ‘This American Life’ to try their hand at something more visceral. Arguments about ‘privilege’ and the co-opting of authentic culture for the purposes of art soon dominate interactions onboard. Feedback sessions on fishing style devolve into personal attacks. It turns out that everyone is sleeping with everyone else and the crew nearly abandons ship to “make a statement” when they unexpectedly land and sell a $60K fish to a Japanese dealer and use the proceeds to open a gallery.

We are all the poorer for having missed them.

OH MY GOD WE’RE BACK AGAIN! Let’s finish off this round of the Tournament of Crapass Parking Lots, shall we? Today’s battle features some close calls and a few underdog winners. Drama abound! Let’s duct tape our bumpers and get down to business.

East Gloucester School vs Destinos

East Gloucester School was up against some tough competition with the Pathways lot, which is so bad a retired cop has to direct traffic on a daily basis. However, the swirling maelstrom of chaos of the EGS lot handily overpowered its opponent. If this lot was anywhere else in town, there would be punches thrown, expletives fired at others, and many generations dishonored by the goings-on. But, it’s in East Gloucester, so the worst that happens is that everyone is annoyed but waves anyway because the person who just live-parked in the middle of the road has a No Farms, No Food bumper sticker just like their own car. Or, someone buys the last batch of not-wilted broccoli at the farmer’s market in a passive-aggressive manner as revenge. Take that!

Destinos beating out the Causeway lot in the first round was an underdog upset. The Clam had its bets hedged on Causeway winning. I mean, even as I’m writing this, IN THE POLICE NOTES TODAY SOMEONE DROVE INTO THE BUILDING. But you people voted in this democratic election of sorts, so Destino’s is the winner.  Destino’s does have its charms, and by charms I mean your chances of hitting another car either in the lot or trying to get out of the lot onto stupid Prospect Street are 100% over a ten-year period. And god help you (pun intended) if you try to park there or un-park there as a church service lets out across the street. Get more macaroni salad, you’re gonna be there awhile.

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Our Lady of Good Voyage vs. Gloucester Crossing.

Speaking of the mess on Prospect, Our Lady of Good Voyage won the worshiping division of the parking lot tournament. Maybe it was the random two different parking lots on two different levels that clenched its victory. Or, maybe it was the fact that you can’t actually have one car enter and one car exit at the same time because the entrance is so narrow. Cars park on the street abutting the church as closely as possible, so traffic crawls by. Does anyone actually walk to services? Survey says not a chance. The best part is when some completely oblivious person parks so that only one lane of traffic can get by for the length of an entire Easter mass and everybody ends up losing a mirror. Jesus, save us.

Gloucester Crossing beat out Family Dollar last round, which was another surprise to us here at the Clam. I mean, Family Dollar and MAC’s lot is a perennial gauntlet of suck. However, the Crossing is a high-stakes game of chicken at best, and a shopping cart hurtling at your car’s quarter panels at its worst. And that fucking rotary. I truly believe empirical evidence will show that no one has ever correctly yielded at that mini rotary. These people have just spent half an hour bashing their cart into people’s ankles while wearing yoga pants to get their granola bars and milk a millisecond faster than everyone else, they will cut you off while looking you dead in the eye if they can. This lot can break a man’s will. You have to look straight ahead, make sure you don’t hit any unsupervised kids, and then OH GOD RANDOM CAR DRIVING DIAGONALLY ACROSS ALL THE SPACES. Fuck. Fuck the Crossing.

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Tune in next week for our parking lot finals!

Ding ding ding! Here comes the second round of the Clam’s Tournament of Shitty Parking Lots! The voting for round one has been tallied. Some lots went home losers, some have epic staying power. We’re getting closer to crowning the ultimate worst goddamn parking lot in town. Join us, as we decide which it will be.

St Peter’s Square vs 7/11 Bass Ave

St Peter’s Square: Unsurprisingly, St. Peter’s Square beat the Second Glance lot by a wide margin. I guess Second Glance’s weird-shaped lot with badly marked lines was absolutely no match when it came to the sheer batshit mayhem that is St. Peter’s Square. St. Peter’s offers up a giant helping of road rage when six drivers enter and only one finds a space (naturally, the last guy who pulled into the parking lot, with Connecticut fuckin’ plates). There is always some beefy dingus who can’t park his Ford F65000 with duallies without taking up more than one spot here. Try leaving when the bar empties out at 1. You can’t, because a girl in a white skirt and wedges is having sex with a guy who has no sleeves on his Nike t-shirt right on top of your car’s hood.

7/11 Bass Ave: This time, St. Peter’s is up against the 7/11 on Bass Ave. This 7/11 somehow beat out 7/11 on Maplewood, which is a pretty big upset – I mean, the Maplewood lot had everything to offer – daylight heroin deals, a bunch of non-working cars and boats and people squatting in the rear, and people who back up entirely without looking.  But, the masses have spoken, and 7/11 Bass Ave is the winner. Unless you have found inner peace, this is the most frustrating lot in the summer. Beach traffic is already insane around that corner. No one will let you back out into the street. No one. And god fucking forbid you have to turn left to go towards Good Harbor. Fuck it, it’s easier to pick a new pope than it is to get out of that lot.

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 Tedeschi’s vs Dogbar Public Lot

Tedeschi’s: Surprisingly, Tedeschi’s beat out the apocalyptic hellscape that is the Shaw’s Railroad Ave lot. We here at the Clam could have bet actual money that Shaw’s would win the battle of the apostrophe-laden foodsellers, if we had any actual money. In Shaw’s, we lose a contestant that was a perennial entrant into the police log hall of fame. However, Tedeschi’s is also an epic shitshow of a lot, and we can’t deny it its day in the limelight.

Has anyone ever seen that lot freshly paved? Once, in 1988, maybe? It has potholes that could house a family of otters. People get super mega ‘roid pissed if you back out in the wrong order, but no one can even tell who was first on account of all the KENO receipts that blow onto your side mirrors at inopportune times.

Dogbar Public Lot: WHY IS THIS LOT EVEN IN OUR PHYSICAL REALM? Have we gone over this? It’s relatively useless and needlessly frustrating because of its diminutive size and questionable angles. Raise your hand if you’ve never accidentally backed into the extra-large dumpster on your way out. PUT YOUR HAND DOWN, YOU’RE LYING.

One time before 8PM I saw a drunk middle aged lady with a bleached blonde perm, a leopard print crop-top and a cigarette walk full-bore into a car’s hood here, so the lot has that going for it. I mean, let’s not forget that this lot directly abuts the Haus de Mitch, so on a Friday or Saturday eve there’s all manner of inebriated folks milling about the lot, exclaiming that they FUCKING HATE DOUG before punching the aforemetioned dumpster or they HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW SERIOUSLY REBECCA WE HAVE TO STOP.

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Welcome back to reality, folks. Holiday weekend’s over. Back to being a mere cog in the machine for The Man.

But the party keeps going here at the Clam (we are looking into commissioning some kind of clam-shaped disco ball to ensure constant partying). We have some awesome stuff to announce.

First off, we have bumper stickers! These 5×5, vinyl works of art are perfect for your car, laptop, bike, small child’s forehead, or re-filed IRS tax return. They are $2 (TWO DOLLARS) and the money we raise goes to fund the Clam’s hosting because let’s face it, Jim and I aren’t exactly going out back into our sheds full of money and huffing deeply to breathe in the enchanting cash musk.

Worth every penny.

You can buy them online here, or you can stop by Big Mike’s Bikes at 57 Washington, where we have them on the counter. Along with stickers, we also have T-shirts ready! We have a selection of new and pre-worn upcycled shirts that are hand-screened by KT. Some she was a few beers deep while doing and those are cheaper than others. But most are pretty rad. We even have kids’ shirts! We’ll have more and more as time goes on. Again, stop by Big Mike’s Bikes, or click here.

They come pre-sidewaysed!

In MOST EXCITING NEWS EVER, we will be teaming up with the Eastern Point Lit House for Clam Night! 

Join the Eastern Point Lit House in wasting an otherwise productive Saturday with an evening of snarky discussion on August 2 from 8-10 p.m. Meet the Gloucester Clam’s editors and contributors and hear about how the Clam got its start (spoiler alert: a dare), the challenges and opportunities in satire and humor blogging, and share your ideas for future stories. We will be selling Gloucester Clam stickers, as well as handmade tote bags and T-shirts.

For a suggested donation of $10, pizza, beer, and slapstick comedy will be provided. 21+!

RSVP here! 

As always, thanks for the support, loyal Clam fans!