Through my many travels around our great state I've begun to realize that not all of Massachusetts is created equal. In fact, the great State that I know and love, really only exists from 495 - eastward, to me, once you cross west of 495 you've left Massachusetts proper and entered a bizarre mix of Upstate New York, Southern Vermonters, Massachusetts hicks, and Worcester for good measure (I feel bad for Worcester, it really belongs on the right side of 495).
The division of the state goes even further than that, because within 495 there are even further divisions of life and culture that are all fairly clearly defined (at least in my own admittedly, bizarre mind) by our state's major highways. Please see my homemade map for further evidence (refer to the actual map above for highway numbers).
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| DOUBLE CLICK MAP TO ENLARGE |
True Massholes as we know them really only reside in an area approximately the size of Rhode Island, East of 93 and 95. Here you'll find the smattering of normal every day working people, Lax bros, Rich Cape Codders, and people who fish and star in movies like The Perfect Storm. West of 95 you find the people who've elevated their status beyond Masshole, this is where the well-to-do families reside, the bosses of current Massholes. These guys also happen to pay all the tolls that support our states highway system, so I don't have any real disparaging remarks. Beyond 495, Massachusetts as you know it, ceases to exist. Sure Worcester is out there on its own, a Masshole Bastion in the midst of Southern Vermont and Northern Connecticut. And Springfield is out there somewhere too, providing a sliver of urban life amidst transplanted upstate New Yorkers, but really that's it. I've never met someone from outside the hub that I've found relate-able as a fellow Masshole.
