Talk of the town: I could’ve been somebody

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Story of my life
Saw a bumper sticker on a car in Lewiston the other day that made me snort. It said: “I was an honor roll student. I don’t know what happened.” I’d get one myself, but who am I kidding? As far as I know, to get on the honor roll, one has to actually show up for school. That just wasn’t my thing.
 
Hacked!
On Tuesday, I got a rather alarming-looking notice from Google, alerting me that some weasel in Ludlow, Massachusetts, had attempted to access my account using my email address and password. If you receive a weird, rambling email from me in the coming days, it’s because I’ve been hacked, and not because I was up drunk at 3 in the morning getting sentimental and wondering what might have become of me if I’d just gone to school once in a while. Yeah, I was hacked. That’s it. That’s the ticket.
 
Sound the alarm
OK, what’s a guy got to do in order to get through the metal detector at 8th District Court in Lewiston without setting off that annoying alarm? On Monday, I made sure to empty every single pocket and remove all potentially offending items. BEEEEEEP, went the annoying alarm. On Tuesday, I went so far as to remove my belt before even walking into the place. BEEEEEP went the annoying alarm. I’m pretty sure I know what I have to do next time I go to court — no pants whatsoever. That should take care of things.
 
For shame
Somewhere in Androscoggin County Monday night, a woman called police to report that her ex-boyfriend’s new gal pal was posting lewd photos of her on the interwebs. Ah, you kids and your technology. Back in my day, if you wanted to shame somebody out of pure pettiness and spite, you had to write lurid things about them on the bathroom wall. Nude photos hadn’t been invented yet. Those were hard times. 
 
Scandalous! Probably.
In entertainment news, we examine the details of Mel B’s restraining order against ex Stephen Belafonte! Just kidding. I don’t know who any of these people are. But I CAN tell you that Ian McKellen could have been the Dumbledore of your dreams but for one little thing.
 
OK, I admit it
I just sent up an entertainment tab in my feed reader. So far I’m not impressed – it’s been a whole day and nobody has even mentioned Farrah Fawcett yet. Actually, I only set up the tab so I could read about the latest episode of “The Walking Dead.” Which I refuse to talk about.
 
The Walking Dud
I so despised “The Walking Dead’s” final episode last week, I don’t think I can even muster a semi-coherent way to describe it. For what they’ve done to the plot and characters, the show writers should be chased off to live with that freaky group of dumpster-diving, caveman-talking, bowl-haircut-sporting landfill nerds from Trashlandia. And take Rick with you because he’s dead to me. And also Negan, whose only fearsome feature is his non-stop, charmless blather. That faux leather coat is lame, Negan. Fonzie would beat the crap out of you.
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