Talk of the town: What happens on the Tilt-a-Whirl stays on the Tilt-a-Whirl

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Bring an umbrella

Well, well. It appears that a giant Elvis Presley balloon will be floating over the Twin Cities come August. You know the kind of effect Presley has on the older ladies. It will be fun to watch them fling their undergarments at The King when he’s 500 feet overhead. It’s gonna be raining underpants, yo!

Droning on

A woman who lives on outer College Street in Lewiston reports that every night around 9:30 p.m., a drone appears over her backyard and hovers there, sometimes up to an hour. If you happen to be the operator of this drone, please let us know what your interest is out there. Otherwise, this is going to turn into a true Hardy Boys Mystery and frankly, I don’t have time to go out and get my hair feathered.

Strapped in

Ah, it’s that time again for the national Buckle Up campaign, where police officers around the state are tasked with telling grown men and women how to take care of themselves. I’ve got an alternate term for click-it-or-ticket specifically for the lawmakers who voted to make seat belts mandatory for adults. They won’t let me print it here.

Deputies in Androscoggin County to wear body cams

Guess it was a matter of time. Frankly, in this age where live video trumps just about everything, I’m surprised that the newspaper hasn’t demanded that reporters wear cameras full time. I’m just happy it didn’t happen back in the ’90s when I adopted a – shall we say – more immersive reporting style. Which is just fancy talk for “I can totally explain why I was hanging out in that brothel when I was supposed to be covering the Litchfield Annual Parade of Flowers.”

Wait, brothel?

Like Lewiston ever had anything that fancy. A man can dream, though.

Step right up

Hey! Where’s Smokey’s Greater Shows this year? Did the carnival appear at the usual spot and I somehow missed the glittering rides, the thousand shrieking teens and the teams of leering, your-daughter-sure-is-pretty carnies? I look forward to the carnival every year, not because I go on the rides or eat the food, but because the mere presence of it makes me feel like I’m living in a Ray Bradbury storyline and anything can happen. It’s a truly magical place where life is celebrated and dreams can come true – especially those dreams induced by a bad sausage and some questionable pharmaceuticals.

Brothel revisited

Not that I would ever visit a brothel, mind you, or neglect the Litchfield Annual Parade of Flowers. Can we just forget I ever said anything about that whole night? 

I was robbed

There was a beautiful moment Thursday when my column mugshot appeared on the website next to a headline about a former Maine Teen USA. At first glance, it looked like I was the former teen pageant winner in question. Which I totally could have been if the voting hadn’t been rigged that year. Fixed!

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