Change your ways
Glad nobody was hurt when cars plowed over a utility pole at Bartlett and East in Lewiston on Wednesday. But man, if you’ve got to disable a set of traffic lights anywhere, that’s a good place to start. It’s one of the many lights around the city that won’t change for motorcycles, for one thing. For another, it’s got a cruel streak, turning yellow when you’re just too far away to race through it, turning green and sticking there on the side with no traffic. So, yeah. Take that. Up next: My hit squad will be going after the wretched lights at Pine and Bates, and then that nasty set at East Avenue and Russell Street. You’ve been warned, lights.
Dunk the Junk
Turns out it’s a hip-hop, graffiti program to promote healthy eating. I was thinking of something else entirely.
You gonna eat that?
Zombies are everywhere. They’re running all over Maine trying out for movie roles. They’ve pretty much taken over Miami and good riddance to that bug-infested place. Zombies are riding our buses, eating in our restaurants and prowling our malls. I’m starting to think that dressing like the undead is simply easier, for some, than clearing up that bad complexion and replacing torn and tattered clothes. And it’s all fun and games until the real zombies get here and then it’ll be just dangerously confusing. You think that greenish, haggard woman in line at the bank is just an aspiring actress and then chomp! Your cerebral cortex is on an hors d’oeuvres tray. I won’t lie to you. I’m a little bit freaked out.
Carnival in Auburn!
The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late, cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder.
If you recognize those lines, you’re too smart for this column. Please drop 50 IQ points before you return.
But really
I love the carnival. The misfits, the freaks, that old guy who touched my face and made me lose weight. And those are just the people in line ahead of me at the snow cone booth.
In all seriousness
Nothing heralds in summer like the carnival. The pops, the explosions, the screams . . . And that’s just Horton Street in Lewiston. And on occasion, Blake Street.
Tilt-a-Whirl
I don’t go on that anymore. Not since the incident.
Cotton candy
Can’t eat it. Reminds me of old woman hair. And I’ve had a problem with old woman hair since the other incident. The bad dreams never went away.
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