What if in hell, all the rich assholes who in life owned boats the size of which they so desperately wished reflected something they absolutely did not, have to sail around a tiny little port for all eternity, but instead of at least getting the satisfaction of showing off their doucheyachts to the other damned, all anyone can see is the smeared, watery reflections, as if hell is a never ending bad acid trip, so they could actually just be big, shitty tugboats for all anyone can tell? And every once in a while, a gorgeous mermaid pops up out of the water and ooohs and ahhhhs over their oversized bath toy, and they get all excited, but then every time the mermaid morphs into a demon who continues to torture them with memories of the four decades of 80-hour work weeks they had to put in to afford the boat? Anyway I took a walk to Burnham Harbor today.