When Irish eyes are seeing things
To the person who sent me the foot-tall leprechaun combination flask and music box: Thanks a bunch! Unless of course this is some St. Patrick’s Day hallucination. In which case, thanks for the drugged liquor.
Spring has sprung!
It’s that wonderful time of year when folks who have spent months complaining about the cold can finally venture out into the sunlight to start complaining about the heat. And bugs and mud, dog poop and shirtless people.
… in downtown Lewiston when the temperatures unseasonably soar into the 60s.
Man: Beautiful weather, isn’t it?
Other man: It certainly is. Absolutely gorgeous.
Man: Truly magical. OK, I’m going to need you to hand over your wallet. This is a stickup.
Have you filled out your brackets? You only wish you had a system as flawless as mine. I choose the team with the really tall guys and bam! They always win.
Ice cream headache
According to this survey I have before me, the only person who didn’t go to Diary Joy for ice cream the day it opened was yours truly. I never go near those places, due to my perplexing inability to order those parfait things with peanuts and chocolate but no cherry. Also the restraining order.
Ten Hail Mary’s and a cap in the buttocks. If this guy had been around when I was a lad, I might not have turned out… Well, like this.
There is concern that, with growing distrust of the government, fewer people will take the time to accurately fill out their forms. There is an easy solution to this: Conduct the census on Facebook, where there is no distrust of anything. Create an app on Facebook, and you can ask a person about their underwear collection and most secretive private habits. They will answer and then send their answers to complete strangers for review. And isn’t that what it’s all about?