What not to wear when covering stories

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You can never be too careful

It finally happened. I arrived at an assignment on my motorcycle and then couldn’t get the helmet off my head. Buckle was stuck shut. It might have been all right rushing into a shooting scene or blazing house fire with a helmet on my head – that’s just kind of macho, am I right? But no. This was no shooting or out-of-control inferno. It was a water main break, meaning I had to saunter to the scene of a mud puddle in my MX helmet and goggles. The cop tasked with guarding the puddle looked at me like someone who probably needed adult supervision.

To be fair

I didn’t really saunter to the water main break. It was more of a mosey. It’s a small but important distinction.

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Fit to be tied

A couple days after the helmet fiasco, I had to wear a stupid tie to a stupid assignment because it was all formal and whatnot. I like wearing ties about as much as Calvin and Hobbes do, by the way. And while I was riding my motorcycle to the stupid assignment in question, the stupid tie flew up in my face, temporarily blinding me with dazzling paisley patterns. Fortunately, I was riding on Walnut Street in Lewiston at the time and you can never go more than 3 mph on Walnut Street due to all the pedestrians crossing at languid angles in the roadway. 

Maine foliage season has begun

If I was any more excited, my pants would be wet. What is better than spending long hours in the car looking at the slow death of vegetation? After we’re all done leaf peeping we should head over to the local cemetery to watch flowers wilt.

Pardon my bellicosity

Foliage season just bums me out because the season of “Mike, we need you to write a winter storm story” is never far behind.

Mass. man charged with putting cameras in bathroom air fresheners

I’m really Glade they caught this guy.

iPhone X

What’s with the name of this latest object of desire? Is the device designed specifically for the viewing of porno? Is the screen hidden behind an opaque black shade like the windows of those old strip joints down in Old Orchard Beach? Remember those? We used to strain our necks trying to peer around the edges of those shades just for a glimpse. Good times, man. Good times. Wait, what was I talking about again?

The big blow

Now that Irma has stormed off, all huffy with her rolling pin and hair curlers, Jose is creeping toward the East Coast like a mugger. The first news organization to use any variation of “No Way, Jose” in a headline ought to be immediately shut down.

An even bigger blow?

And speaking of weather wars, I just saw a spaghetti model that suggests Jose is heading up into our area, where it may be joined by a pair of smaller storms right behind it. Can you say Super Storm? It’s starting to feel like we all woke up right smack dab in the middle of an Irwin Allen movie. Ernest Borgnine should be along at any moment.

‘Spaghetti model’

I like to use that term casually, as though I’ve always known what it means. I mean, it’s not like I just learned it by watching YouTube videos during Irma or anything. Also, millibars.

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