Got a little bogged down in the funk there last time, didn’t we? Well, we’re leaving Dudley Square and all that funky shit behind!

On to the lovely, Concrete-Gothic Ruggles Station, where Bus #8 intersects with the orange line. Bet you didn’t know this: Ruggles is home to Avian Flyaway, inc.’s “bird relocation system,” which puts it in such illustrious company as the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials and the Treasury Dept. in Washington DC, The New York City Police Department, and Circuit City in Tampa Florida! See, the T cares enough about your pointed little head to keep birds from pooping on it.

And the great thing about Avian Flyaway’s system is it’s totally “harmless”. According to their literature, Avian Flyaway’s system is “based on Pavlov’s Theory of Behavior Modification - By ‘harmlessly’ training unwanted birds to Flyaway & Stay Away.” Pretty ominous, those quotes around the word “harmless” though, don’t you think?

But Avian Flyaway’s brochure assures us: “Birds contacting the System are ‘Reverse Rewarded’ - With a mild, non-lethal electric stimuli: ‘Don’t Land, Don’t Reap Reward.’ - After one or more events, birds associate reward with area & relocate.”

I remember being “harmlessly” “reverse rewarded” with ass-whoopins whenever I got into trouble as a kid.

But isn’t it funny the way they put it like that? I think it is. Disclosure: I’m not a big pigeon fan. But that’s hardly the point. The pigeons don’t care whether you call it a “a mild, non-lethal electric stimuli” or a “short, sharp shock.” It’s pretty much the same to them.

We think of political correctness as a liberal academic thing, but really it’s as much a function of a litigious society and the free market aversion to alienating anyone. I think it has a lot to do with the degree of conservatism in our culture, even amongst so-called liberals. Political correctness is, after all, an essentially authoritarian idea.

Which shows the inadequacies of the ways we conceive of and visualize our politics. Because in politics, beliefs and behaviors, ideologies and methodologies aren’t all lined up on the x-axis like so:

You want a more accurate picture, you’ve got to just bend it ’til it looks like this:

Of course this simplistic terminology comes from the simple fact that in the Congress and Senate, democrats sit on the left side of the aisle (facing the dais), and republicans on the right. This practice of sitting on party sides of the main aisle dates back to around 1877. (It’s a remnant of the seating arrangement of the French National Assembly of 1789). This has a practical purpose: allowing senators and congressmen to huddle with their “teammates.” But nowadays, as a metaphor for the people’s politics it’s lacking, and we continue to use it at our own peril.

Sure, there are a lot of different ways to conceive of and represent our politics, but to be even remotely accurate, they’d have to use more than just the x-axis. One slightly more complex way to visualize our politics can be found at politicalcompass.org. You can take the test and see where you come out.

My results put me rump-to-rump with Ghandi. And despite the illustrious company he’s in on this chart, I’m sticking with him. And I didn’t cheat, either.

Which brings us back to why there are surprisingly few pigeons in Ruggles Station. It’s the revolutionary reverse-reward system. If only Ghandi had known about this, he might still be with us today.

The Ruggles area is incredibly rich in history and culture. The old site of the baseball park commonly known as the old South End Grounds, which from 1871 to 1914 was home to Boston’s major league team, variously nicknamed the “Red Stockings,” “Beaneaters”, “Red Caps,” “Rustlers,” and “Doves” (they eventually hit on the “Braves,” and are, as you may have guessed, ancestors of the Atlanta Braves).

The old outfield is now an NU parking lot, and the former site of the grandstand and the infield is now a parking garage. There’s a commemorative plaque at the T station.

No reason to get off the bus at Ruggles, though. The #8 will drop you off at the doorstep of the Museum of Fine Arts, which is getting a behemoth new “Art of the Americas” wing. This is good news. Art is good, and more is better. But the slogan “Art for Everyone” being bandied about on the MFA’s website is nonsense with knobs on. In fact, if you ask me, it’s nonsense on stilts.

The current price of general admission is fifteen dollars and exhibitions can run to twenty-five bucks. Now that may be a lot of things, but it’s not “Art for Everyone.” “Art for everyone with forty bucks.” Yes.

The argument that forty bucks is nothing to pay, given the wealth of art, is made by people with forty bucks to spend. But never mind. Free museums have gone the way of the dodo. The British Museum is free to get in, but it’s in London. You can’t get there on the T.

Some months ago when students were coming back from Summer break, all the free papers did their obligatory “Welcome back to Boston” issue. In theirs the Phoenix had various suggestions as to where to meet people. Like for hook-ups. There were separate articles for girls and guys, girls and girls, and guys and guys, and for the latter, one of the places the author Kurt Malec suggested was the MFA, particularly when you don’t want to end up “later that same night [snogging, let’s say] in a bathroom stall.”

Psst, Kurt: the MFA has bathroom stalls, too.

Anyway, Kurt says that for “boyfriend” material, “The Museum of Fine Arts and the Boston Public Library courtyard are great places to find the intellectual type.” But I think this is an urban legend, like the one about the last car on subway trains being the gay cruising car. Somebody prove me wrong, please. But seriously, just go on the internet. That’s where the boys are.

By the way—a little off-topic, I know, but Kurt goes on: “If you don’t feel like putting on an air of intellectualism to approach those studying studs, I recommend bookstores like Trident Book Sellers. You’ll find scenesters, hipsters, and homosexuals reading, drinking, and lounging in the café. And let’s face it, it is a lot easier to make small talk with someone who is reading Paris Hilton’s latest than someone contemplating a Renoir.”

Is Paris Hilton an author now, too?

And what’s so hard about sidling up to a looker looking at Dance at Bougival, say, clearing your throat, and saying, “Why shouldn’t art be pretty? There are enough unpleasant things in the world.” That’s a direct quote from Monsieur Renoir himself, by the way. Or you could just cut to the chase, poke him in the small of his back and grunt: “the men’s john, in five, bitch. Be there.”

Not that museums aren’t great places to cruise, but admission’s got to be free. Forty dollar museum trips and free love just don’t mix. But even artfag haute couture is no guarantee you’re gonna meet someone any more decent than in the reeds at the Fens. I mean, look at what happened to Angie Dickinson in Dressed to Kill.

Hmm. Hold that thought, gentle reader. Once again, our time is up…