Super Bowl

While the rest of you were watching the game, with your 12-packs and Snuggies and giant foam fingers, I was driving up out of the southern blizzard and trying not to die in a snowbank. I suppose that makes me a skirt-wearing Nancy boy without an ounce of testosterone in my man bank. And while I regret missing the Saints’ admirable march back from a halftime deficit, I’m not sorry to have missed the sight of a supermodel in a hot tub with a beaver, The Who or the awesome opportunity to hear Tim Tebow telling me what to do with my body.

Dear John topples Avatar

There are so many things I would be more willing to do than sit through “Dear John,” which I believe was hatched in a mound of sickly sweet syrup by the same man who brought us “The Notebook.” Where to start? I would rather eat belly button lint than watch “Dear John.” I would rather endure a root canal in which the dentist goes in through the back of my head. I would rather stuff live beetles up my nose and sing karaoke. I would rather sit through an entire episode of Glenn Beck or go on one of those detox diets. A full list of things I would rather do than sit through “Dear John” will soon be available in book form. Don’t buy it. It’s going to be pretty gross.

Witches on Howard Street in Lewiston

I know you’ve already heard about them. I just like repeating that sentence because every time I do, the Rev. Doug Taylor has a bad dream.

Bugs infest postal package

What’s ironic is that I would pay any fee if the postal service would provide the option of having a package or letter covered with insects before it’s shipped out. Mailing out a bill you don’t want to pay? Send it crawling with roaches. Writing a fuming letter to an ex? Drop it in the mailbox crackling with beetles. Angry letter to the editor? Earwigs ought to garner special attention to your weekly rant. This would be way better than any commemorative stamp, is all I’m saying.

Happy Valentine’s Day

Remember back in elementary school where we’d all buy a package of a hundred greeting cards for like a buck? And how you’d fill them out for your friends and drop them into little folders we all made ourselves out of construction paper? And how there was always that one unpopular kid who never got any cards, even though the teacher warned everybody to give a card to everyone? Remember that? Yeah. Thanks for nothing, jackasses.

Pitchers and catchers

Show up for spring training today! This is like Christmas, the Fourth of July and the day your mom quit crack all rolled into one. For an exhaustively detailed report on this glorious, perennial event, see www.pitchersandcatchersreport.com

Witches on Howard Street

Did you hear that scream?

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