At the dawn of any new reality, it becomes necessary to first define the rules of the game, and while this fledgling Intellectual spreads its tiny wings and prepares to leap headfirst into the cold, unforgiving skies of digital satire, those rules are still ill-defined. For this reason, it may be best to begin by defining the players, namely the big, blue, penile-shaped man in charge of the film reviews: Boston Bob. 

Joe DiPersio: So, Bob, as The Boston Intellectual gets off the ground, I’m sure there’s going to be a lot of questions as to who, or what, exactly you are. 

Boston Bob: To answer the who: I’m just a chill dude who rolled into town one day with a sick beanie, a firm ass, and a knack for film criticism. To answer the what: Let’s just say I’m a fading light in this ever-dimming world. But what about the why? We get so caught up wondering who we are, and what we are, and how we are—terrible, by the way—that we never stop to wonder why we are. 

JD: Okay, Bob. Why are you?

BB: Well, when a man loves a woman… 

JD: And, I’m gonna stop you right there. 

BB: Come on! You walked right into it! But can we just cut the crap? Please, call me Bobby. 

JD: Fine. What’s it like sharing a name with Bobby Flay?

BB: What’s it like sharing a name with Joseph Stalin, you little shit? But now that you brought him up, what a pretentious douchebag! You ever see that show, “Beat Bobby Flay,” where he invites people on to see if they can cook better than him and then judges the food himself?

JD: I mean, he’s not the only judge.

BB: I’ll tell you what. I think I could beat Bobby Flay… WITH A FOUR-FOOT-LONG LEAD PIPE! 

JD: Holy shit! Bobby, you are WAY out of line right now!

BB: Then I guess you haven’t seen that Pepsi ad he did last summer? The one where he’s shaking his ass like an arrogant peacock trying to attract the world’s biggest brand endorsement grilling up raw flesh to the bad, boogie beat. And as a Coke purist, it’s especially insulting. Downright blasphemous! 

JD: I just want the reader to know that Bobby is referring to Coke as in the carbonated beverage. The Boston Intellectual does not condone drug use of any kind. 

BB: Except for heroin Wednesday. 

JD: Nope! Especially not that. That is NOT a thing. 

BB: Anyway, to get back on track, mister “interviewer,” it’s always “I’ll have a Coke. Oh, is Pepsi okay?” It’s never the other way around. I mean, if I were a waiter in a restaurant and someone deliberately ordered a Pepsi, I’d assume they slipped in the parking lot and gave themselves a frontal lobotomy on an iron spike.

JD: Why is there an iron spike just sticking out of the ground?

BB: Welcome to Boston! Also, I just want the reader to know that The Boston Intellectual operates out of a fully-furnished, cushy office space, and this interview is definitely not taking place in a 2006 Chevy Impala parked behind a Walmart, in which we also live. 

JD: You know what? Let’s just get to the point. Why should people take your word on the movies they should or shouldn’t see?

BB: Has anybody ever told you that as an interviewer, you have the charisma of a middle-aged, chubby man getting over his third hangover sitting between two Devonian-period houseplants?   

JD: Has anyone ever told you that you look an awful lot like a certain college… 

BB: HEY! HEY! You were the one who said we can’t do that! 

JD: Well, maybe you should watch your step or I’ll send you back to that harborside hellhole where… wait, is your beanie glowing?

BB: Oh, whoopsie doopsies! That’s just an uh… just a… mining light! Yeah, I like to keep one of those mining lights strapped to my head in case I decide to go spelunking or something!   

JD: That’s an absolutely ludicrous explanation; however, due to legal reasons, I’ll agree with your reasoning. Anyway, this being The Boston Intellectual, would you care to try and say something at least semi-intelligent?

BB: Nothing is forever. Looks, money, identity; on our lifelong march into dust, we’ll shed our skin so many times that we’ll forget the purpose. The purpose is to grow, but there’s really no such thing as growth. Growth implies a positive direction, but time only flows, uncaring and unknowing of our personal plights. We can only swim in that river so long until the current sucks us under and the waters of nature fill our lungs. Essentially, what I’m saying is that everybody can benefit from therapy and there ain’t no shame in reaching out for help and having a little fireside chat with a trained professional. Bottoms up and bottoms out, my friends!