Tell them you mean business!
On a rainy day at Park and Ash streets in Lewiston, I nearly got mowed down by a Joe Bornstein SUV. The thing was decked out in photos depicting the fearsome lawyer and all the feisty cliches that have marked his advertising campaign. This begs the question, who do you call to manage the settlement if you are run down by Bornstein himself? The Lewiston lawyers with the baseball bats? I don’t think so. What I do know is this: If a Joe Bornstein truck was to hit you, it would no doubt sound like this: DONG! Let’s settle this one.

Forgive me, officer, for I have sinned
Step into the Auburn police station some night and feel the hospitality. In the dark, narrow lobby with windows to your law enforcement professionals covered by blinds, you will feel you have stumbled into an old-style peep show or perhaps a confessional. But there’s nothing here to peep and the only answer to my confession (we really don’t like your lobby, dude) was this: “Admin. hours, Mon-Fri 7am-7pm. After hours, use the phone in the lobby.”
Average wait time for a reporter looking for arrest reports is 20 minutes. I have no idea what it might be for those of you with real emergencies. Enjoy your stay.

Three-minute vandalism
An apartment on Bates Street in Lewiston had a pile of dirt dumped in front of the front door and Ramen noodles thrown at the entry. Filthy noodle-chucker! Reckless acts like these are the reason the cost of Ramen noodles has skyrocketed to six packets a dollar.

What?
The following Wal-Mart rant was sent to me for no particular reason. You’d be surprised at how many Wal-Mart rants I hear each week. A man walked into the store behind me. We both purchased Sun Journals. I saw a cute little girl bouncing a ball as big as herself. Her parents were discussing the attributes of some precious item which I did not notice. I was watching the little girl. When her parents were ready to move on she deftly tossed the ball back into its giant cage. I saw the man again a few minutes later, on the other side of the store. I had filled my basket with a lawn chair, beach towels, and office supplies. He had only the Sun Journal. My cashier was … exceedingly kind. He reminded me of my brother-in-law. On my way through the parking lot, searching for my car in flat asphalt the size of Chesterville, I avoided a large young woman in skin-tight white sweats who was vomiting copiously and violently. When she finished she strolled into the store. Pregnant or swine flu? By the way, who cares about cute or ugly, it’s kindness that really matters. And maybe I should have kindly enquired after the vomiting woman, because I’m a nurse and a human being, but like everyone else, I have an aversion to emesis. Yuck. So Walmart: tells me to work on kindness.” 


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