Boston is a great city. It’s the only place I’ve called
home. The Pru, the Hancock, the Custom House Tower. The smell of salt water
from the harbor. The roar of the crowd as Mike Carp rips a grand slam. If you
talk to any true Bostonian, they will defend their city with a fierce passion.
But no city is without its flaws. I mean, who lets a
bunch of cows’ meandering design your streets? And despite the recent success
of our sports teams, the first thirteen years of my life were but a small part
of an 86 year drought (my heart goes out to any fans of the Chicago Cubs, you
will have your day in the sun). But one strange rallying cry of the Boston
people is The Standells’ song “Dirty Water.” The song doesn’t provide the most glowing review of our city, yet
we own that song.
How many companies describe themselves as cutting edge,
innovative, thought leaders that are revolutionizing the industry with big
data? How many ninjas and mavens and pirates are running around on LinkedIn?
Now I’m not saying that you should go around heralding the fact that your
product will result in an extra unwanted appendage, but sometimes when you
embrace the warts, you get a prince in return.
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