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Trolley ahoy! Hast seen the Green Line?

Dan Kennedy asked ChatGPT, one of those AI-based online researchy things that are all the rage these days, to write a description of the T that Herman Melville might have written.

It is a system that demands both patience and cunning, for one must be quick of foot and mind to catch the right train, or else suffer the indignity of waiting upon a frigid platform for what seems an eternity.

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What would Franz Kafka write about the MBTA?

If Franz Kafka were to write about the MBTA, he would likely focus on the system's bureaucratic nature and the sense of isolation and alienation that it can generate. Kafka's writing often explored themes of absurdity, bureaucracy, and the human condition, and the MBTA would provide ample material for these themes.

In Kafka's vision, the MBTA would be a sprawling, labyrinthine system that is seemingly impossible to navigate. The stations would be vast, empty spaces that are devoid of human interaction, with rows of turnstiles that seem to serve no purpose other than to block the way. The trains themselves would be claustrophobic and oppressive, with passengers crammed together in uncomfortable seats, unable to escape the gaze of their fellow travelers.

Kafka's protagonist would be a hapless commuter, struggling to navigate the system and constantly thwarted by its absurd rules and regulations. The protagonist would find themselves trapped in an endless cycle of commuting, never able to escape the system and never able to find a sense of belonging.

The MBTA in Kafka's vision would be a symbol of modern life's impersonal nature, where people are reduced to cogs in a bureaucratic machine. The system would be like a labyrinthine bureaucracy, a bureaucratic nightmare that is impossible to navigate or escape.

Overall, Kafka's portrayal of the MBTA would be a bleak and foreboding vision of modern life, a place where people are stripped of their agency and trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of commuting. It would be a haunting portrayal of the human condition, where people are constantly struggling to find meaning and connection in a world that is seemingly designed to prevent them from doing so.

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So it would be like Charlie on the MTA?

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The MBTA is a force to be reckoned with, an essential part of life in the city of Boston. For those who ride it every day, the MBTA is both a blessing and a curse, a necessary evil that is both loved and loathed in equal measure. To ride the MBTA is to experience the full spectrum of human emotion, from frustration and anger to joy and gratitude.

For the seasoned commuter, the MBTA is a battleground, a place where one must fight for their seat and their space. The stations are like war zones, with throngs of people pushing and shoving to make their way to the trains. The trains themselves are like the trenches of the Great War, with passengers crammed together in a space that is too small for comfort. To ride the MBTA is to experience the daily struggle of life in the city.

But for all its faults, the MBTA is a necessary evil, a vital part of the city's infrastructure. Without it, the city would grind to a halt, and the people would be stranded, unable to make their way from place to place. The MBTA is a reminder of the fragility of our modern way of life, a fragile ecosystem that requires constant maintenance and attention.

In the end, the MBTA is a microcosm of the city itself, with all its beauty and ugliness laid bare. To ride the MBTA is to experience the true essence of the city, a place of constant motion and change. It is a place where one can witness the full range of human experience, from the highs of love and connection to the lows of frustration and despair. The MBTA is not just a mode of transportation; it is a symbol of the human spirit, a testament to our ability to persevere in the face of adversity.

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it would be over in a paragraph. A short one.

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Ursula K. Le Guin's Gethen is the setting of her novel "The Left Hand of Darkness," a world where the inhabitants are ambisexual and have no fixed gender identity. Given this, the concept of the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA) would likely be quite different if it existed on Gethen.

One possibility is that the MBTA would not be necessary in the same way as it is on Earth. The Gethenians in Le Guin's novel are portrayed as living in a more communal society, where people work together to solve problems and share resources. Transportation might be handled more collectively, with communities pooling resources to ensure that everyone can get where they need to go.

If there were some sort of organized transportation system, it would likely be structured differently from the MBTA. Without fixed gender roles, it's possible that there would be less emphasis on traditional divisions of labor, such as male-dominated fields like engineering and construction. This could result in a more egalitarian transportation system, with a greater emphasis on community input and decision-making.

It's also worth noting that the climate and geography of Gethen are quite different from that of Massachusetts. Gethen is a much colder planet, with much of the land covered in ice and snow. This could necessitate different types of transportation infrastructure, such as sleds or skis instead of buses or trains.

Overall, the MBTA on Gethen would likely be a very different entity than it is on Earth, reflecting the unique social and environmental conditions of Le Guin's fictional world.

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Dude, IT'S fucking corrupt. The masses need to know it's not a sprawling labyrinth. It's fucking corrupt.

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Listen: the Orange Line is dead.

So it goes.

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With apologies to KV:
"When a Tralfamadorian sees a corpse, all he thinks is that the dead person is in bad condition at that particular moment, but that the same person is just fine in plenty of other moments. So when I hear that the Orange Line is dead, I simply shrug and say what the Tralfamadorians say about dead people, which is ‘So it goes.’"

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courtesy of:
https://www.mit.edu/~jdreed/t/charlie.html

Let me tell you the story
Of a man named Charlie
On a tragic and fateful day
He put ten cents in his pocket,
Kissed his wife and family
Went to ride on the MTA

Charlie handed in his dime
At the Kendall Square Station
And he changed for Jamaica Plain
When he got there the conductor told him,
"One more nickel."
Charlie could not get off that train.

Chorus:
Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn'd
He may ride forever
'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned.

Now all night long
Charlie rides through the tunnels
Saying, "What will become of me?
Crying How can I afford to see
My sister in Chelsea
Or my cousin in Roxbury?"

Charlie's wife goes down
To the Scollay Square station
Every day at quarter past two
And through the open window
She hands Charlie a sandwich
As the train comes rumblin' through.

As his train rolled on
underneath Greater Boston
Charlie looked around and sighed:
"Well, I'm sore and disgusted
And I'm absolutely busted;
I guess this is my last long ride."
{this entire verse was replaced by a banjo solo}

Now you citizens of Boston,
Don't you think it's a scandal
That the people have to pay and pay
Vote for Walter A. O'Brien
Fight the fare increase!
Vote for George O'Brien!
Get poor Charlie off the MTA.

Chorus:
Or else he'll never return,
No he'll never return
And his fate will be unlearned
He may ride forever
'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned.
He's the man who never returned.

Back to top.

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...it became a "thing" for some select pub crowds to yell "bull****" after the third line of the chorus. That was obnoxious enough, but then at some point they started yelling it after the third line in each verse, too.
And some charmers thought it amusing to have fun with "Charlie's wife goes down."

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Last night on my red line train two passengers got into an argument on whether Homer really penned the Iliad and the Odyssey. The argument got so heated that I was worried that we were only a few steps away from the T offering riders a full murder mystery performance.

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(Reads more like a children's book than a Whitman poem, but amusing nonetheless. I emphasized one aspirational line that gave me a chuckle.)

O Subway system of Boston town!
The underground veins that course around
A labyrinth of tunnels deep and wide,
A marvel of engineering pride.

From Alewife to Ashmont, Braintree to Wonderland,
Through stations crowded, bustling and grand,
The trains they come and go with a roar,
A constant hum beneath the city floor.

Onward they rush through darkness and light,
In the heart of the city, all through the night,
Past Fenway and Harvard, downtown and more,
The rhythm of the rails forever doth soar.

Oh MBTA! Thy trains and cars,
Like giant beasts that roam afar,
From North Shore to South Shore, East to West,
They serve the people, they serve the best.

Amidst the hustle and the bustle of life,
Thy subway system is a force so rife,
A symbol of Boston's history and pride,
As on thy trains the people do ride.

So here's to Boston and the T they call,
A system so strong it will never fall,
A network of steel and iron so grand,
Forever a part of this great land.

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Not so much.
But I like everything else- especially the lines "A constant hum beneath the city floor, and "As on thy trains the people do ride"

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never, ever wrote a poem in rhymed couplets, or with such a regular meter. He did write of trains occasionally, though I don't know about subways. Here's an example, appropriate for the season.

To a Locomotive in Winter

Thee for my recitative,
Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining,
Thee in thy panoply, thy measur’d dual throbbing and thy beat convulsive,
Thy black cylindric body, golden brass and silvery steel,
Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating, shuttling at thy sides,
Thy metrical, now swelling pant and roar, now tapering in the distance,

Thy great protruding head-light fix’d in front,
Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple,
The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smoke-stack,
Thy knitted frame, thy springs and valves, the tremulous twinkle of thy wheels,
Thy train of cars behind, obedient, merrily following,
Through gale or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily careering;
Type of the modern—emblem of motion and power—pulse of the continent,
For once come serve the Muse and merge in verse, even as here I see thee,
With storm and buffeting gusts of wind and falling snow,
By day thy warning ringing bell to sound its notes,
By night thy silent signal lamps to swing.

Fierce-throated beauty!
Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music, thy swinging lamps at night,
Thy madly-whistled laughter, echoing, rumbling like an earthquake, rousing all,
Law of thyself complete, thine own track firmly holding,
(No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,)
Thy trills of shrieks by rocks and hills return’d,
Launch’d o’er the prairies wide, across the lakes,
To the free skies unpent and glad and strong.

Walt Whitman

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(spoiler for "At The Mountains of Madness" )

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It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single commuter in possession of a desire to arrive at their destination on time, must be in want of a reliable and efficient transportation system. Alas, the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority doth not fit this description.

For verily, the MBTA is an enigma, an entity that doth inspire both frustration and despair in equal measure. Its carriages are oft delayed, and its tracks beset with endless repairs. The common folk are left to wait upon its platforms, helpless and bewildered, as their precious minutes tick by.

Yet, despite all of its shortcomings, the MBTA remains a vital part of society in these modern times. Many a gentleman and lady have no choice but to rely upon its services to conduct their daily affairs. It is a necessary evil, to be borne with stoicism and fortitude, even in the face of great adversity.

Perhaps, one day, the MBTA shall rise to the challenge and provide a service befitting its purpose. Until then, we must resign ourselves to the fact that our journeys shall be fraught with uncertainty and inconvenience.

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Why do I feel like I’ve stumbled into a college course? :-P

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Because in college everyone’s using ChatGPT to do the writing for them, too.

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As it is still an expellable offense to plagiarize and cheat.

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