I want to stress that I am not a conspiracy theorist. No matter how many times Fox News runs reports about how at least half the liberals in Congress are actually badly dressed woodchucks, I don’t believe it. The New York Times can keep on exposing Republican presidential candidates as thinly disguised squirrels, but I’m not buying it.
I run into my cousin Ronnie’s daughter, Shannon, down to the Wally Mart the other day. She was there with her friend, Emily. They’re cute girls, both in their mid-twenties, unattached. You should have seen their shopping cart loaded to the gills with paper towels, toilet paper, feminine products and about twenty bottles of Oil of Olay.
“Wow,” I says, “would you look at that haul!”
“We’ve been couponing!” Shannon says. “Got some wicked good deals, too.”
In the wake of the Nov. 8 election in which Maine voters overwhelmingly rejected a proposed casino at the Bates Mill in downtown Lewiston, the mayor of that fair city, Larry Gilbert, and other supporters of the development gracefully accepted defeat.
I know, I know, I should probably be talking about last week’s storm. How no one can believe we had snow like that before Halloween; how the power was out a couple of days; how there’s still folks without power. (Can you believe that?) ‘Round these parts, ‘bout all you could hear was the sound of people whining and generators doing their thing. You got your little portable ones that give you a few lights, heat, fridge, and hot water all the way up to what we call the “Taj Mahal,” where life goes on without interruption.
When people from away think of Maine, what’s the first thing that comes to their minds?
“Isn’t it winter there, like, ten months a year?”
“I think it’s part of Canada. Or Sweden.”
“Stephen King is the governor. Or the governor is some other psycho like him.”
Which just goes to show that people from away are idiots.
Halloween was one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I mean, people give you candy for dressing like a princess. What’s not to like about that?
AAA, the organization you call when your car won’t start, has greatly expanded its activities over the years. It now sells insurance. It has a travel agency. It books monthly sex parties at the old Knights of Columbus hall in Sanford. And it installs devices in your car that monitor where teenage drivers are going and how fast they’re traveling while they’re getting there.
Fall’s hunting season here in Maine. Bow hunting takes place in October, and come November, they bring out the heavy artillery. So if you’re out walking in the woods, be sure to wear your blaze orange vests, hats and what not. I know, it’s not in my color wheel either, but sometimes you gotta forgo fashion for safety. Why, even our little dog Scamp wears his colors. Got him a blaze orange bandana and vest, and boy, oh boy, does he ever look cunnin.’
I’m sort of oblivious to the latest fashion trends. Which sometimes gets me in a lot of trouble. For example:
Recently, in my local tavern, I was talking with some people, when a woman joined our group. I immediately noticed she had a bird feather tangled in her hair. No one else in the group made mention of it, but I figured they were too timid to bring it up, for fear they’d offend her by pointing out such a flagrant disregard for personal hygiene. So, I took it upon myself to remedy the situation.
Fall has been playing footsie with summer for weeks now, and you know what? Summer’s ready to put on some socks. Sure, the days warm up pretty good, but the mornings are nippy. Truth be told, there have been a few times when I’ve turned the heat on a smidge, just to take the edge off. Don’t tell Charlie!