28 charged
at party raid
Headlines like these always rile me. I know it’s important to bust up teenage booze fests and spread the word that drinking is not appropriate until you are over 21, at which point you can apparently drink all you want until your nose starts to look like a road map scratched into a tomato and your liver grows to the size of a beach ball.
No, my problem is with the press coverage itself. Where were my headlines when I was running from the cops, with the speed and stealth of one of the “Lord of the Flies” kids, back in 1980-era Waterville? Back then, we didn’t just stand back, giant red cups in hand, and wait for the cops to hand out the punishment.
We scrambled through back windows like moles, scaled fences like monkeys, fled through the woods like gazelles running from lions, dashed across streams and ponds like water bugs, vaulted dogs and short people, swung on vines like Tarzan, pretty much employed all the skills and agility of Kyle Reese escaping the Terminator in our attempts to outrun and outwit the police. We hid in dumpsters and covered ourselves with garbage. We held our breath and sunk to the bottom of bogs until the coast was clear. We had giant friends who could do all of this while carrying the half-spent keg under one arm. But did any reporters come to write about our heroics? Not a single one.
And this leads me to believe that kids these days get all the attention not because they are badder than we were, but because they just stand there in the glare of the police flashlight, like deer on the highway, waiting to be caught. Either that or back in 1980s-era Waterville, all the reporters were drunk, too.
“Why lie?
I need a beer.”
A man with a cardboard sign stating this very thing has been hanging out on corners in Auburn. I love these guys. None of that crap about needing bus fare to visit a sick relative or insisting they want money for soup.
Right to the facts they go, and I’ll always dig a little deeper into my enabler’s wallet to give them a little more. Of course, there is always the chance that even this guy is lying and he really wants your loose change to buy rope with which to strangle puppies. Seriously, who can you trust anymore?
Mother’s Day
Whether your mother is like Aunt Bee, Shirley Jones or Britney Spears, you better do something to mark the day or buddy, you ain’t getting any allowance. Remember the likes of Andrea Yates, Susan Smith and Joan Crawford and consider yourself blessed. Remember also that little Charlie Manson’s mom tried to sell her boy to a cafe waitress for a pitcher of beer. I’m not saying you should let fear guide you on this day, but it sure wouldn’t hurt.
What do you think is the talk of the town? E-mail suggested topics for this column and comments for publication to [email protected]


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