Run for your life
So, I’m circling downtown Lewiston in search of column morsels. It’s slim pickings out there on a night that smells of baking bread. In Kennedy Park, it’s just the usual mobs of people doing mysterious park things. On Lisbon Street it’s mostly commerce and downtown hubbub, although I did happen upon a man who was staring fixedly at a trash can. Most epic staring contest ever. On Park Street, ridiculously slow drivers and a small group of aspiring ne’er-do-wells hanging out in front of Victor News. There just isn’t anything here to work with at all. Then I bang a left onto Pine Street in a final bid for column gold. There’s a young lady holding hands with two guys at once, but is that even weird anymore? There’s a guy standing alone and throwing hand signals at nobody in particular, but maybe he’s just calling for a bunt. Finally, halfway up that always-buzzing street, I spot a jogger in full jogger uniform: the Lycra, the sleeveless and sweat-soaked T-shirt, the headphones and the cigarette dangling out of her mouth. That’s right, baby! This lady smokes while she jogs, and where else in the world are you going to see this kind of thing other than Pine Street in Lewiston? By God, I think my work is done here.
At the very top of the page in the notes I took on my recent horseback riding excursion, I wrote this: “78 is good at the start.” I’ve looked at this line every which way, including upside down and reflected in a mirror, and I still have no clue what it means. Seventy eight what, exactly, and what’s so good about it? Sometimes I think a rebellious element within my subconscious tries to send me coded messages when I’m scribbling in my notebook. Unfortunately, those rebellious elements are apparently drunk all the time. I’ve got to get them some help.
Lewiston street mysteries
What in tarnation are those triangle things in the road near the parking garage on Canal Street in Lewiston? Why is the city always doing weird stuff down there? Am I suppose to drive over those things? Around them? Through them? I haven’t been this confused since the bicycle/hooker lanes went in on Pine Street.
I’ll bet when you saw “Lewiston street mysteries” you were expecting something way cooler than a rant about traffic control devices. It was clickbait. I’m not proud.
It so consistently rains around here every time the Great Falls Balloon Festival rolls into town, I’m starting to think we should give it up all together and replace it with the Great L-A Submarine Festival. You’d go out for that, right? Prepare the canals! I’m going down!
When I first got the Google Pixel phone, they said it couldn’t be rooted. Never happen, they insisted, not with that locked bootloader. Well, I unlocked that bootloader, skeptic, and I installed a TWRP custom recovery. After that, it was real simple getting that Pixel rooted with Magisk and now I’ve got Titanium kicking all that bloatware to the curb. Not to mention the sheer joy of custom ROMs. Only 1 percent of you knows what in blazes I’m talking about here, but that 1 percent wants me pretty bad about now. Probably.
“No, you’re a career politician!”
That’s apparently what a political argument sounds like these days. Isn’t this a lot like one vampire calling another vampire a bloodsucker?
The truth is in there
Got me a tour of the Geiger facilities in Lewiston the other day. That is one impressive business, but they wouldn’t let me into the room that houses the extraterrestrials who make the weather forecasts. I asked about it and I was going to keep probing, but then they distracted me by giving me a really cool pen. It’s got a flashlight and everything! I’m pretty sure that’s how NASA keeps the moon landing hoax going, too.