Irene

Like so many Irenes I’ve known, this one was a big girl who huffed and puffed a lot, but who turned out to be kind of fun if you don’t mind getting jostled a bit.

Above it all

And speaking of that day-after feeling, did you see how show-off Scott Thistle went up in a helicopter to survey and photograph damage from the hurricane? His second time, I’m told. I’ve been at the Sun Journal, what. Forty years? Still haven’t been up in a helicopter.

Screw it. I’m buying my own. How hard can it be?

That stinks

With so many people out of power and skipping showers, I floated the idea of publishing a scratch-n-sniff edition of the newspaper. Astoundingly, they didn’t go for it.

In the air tonight

Out of nowhere Monday night, in the air along Sabattus Street in Lewiston, came an overwhelming smell of marriage-a-wanna. That’s right: The Ganja. Doobage. The Devil’s Houseplant. Many people whiffed it, but the source of this heavy aroma of Mary Jane is unknown. I have to find out and harness the awesome power of the giggle weed. If I could arrange to have that sweet cloud descend on Sunday mornings, Talk of the Town might be funny for a change.

You killed my begonia. Prepare to die.

In Lewiston, a woman called police to complain that a neighbor had gathered up downed tree limbs after the hurricane and that he deliberately placed them on her plants in order to kill them. You know what this is, don’t you? That’s right, it’s the late-summer version of snow blower wars, in which neighbors – some of them approaching 100 years old – come to blows over accusations of improper snow flinging. Good times. But please, no wagering.

My apologies to Simones

I haven’t been able to even think about hot dogs since that photo of Michele Bachmann with the corn dog.

100-proof horror

My new novel, “Delirium Tremens,” is so steeped in alcohol, you should probably avoid reading it in public. Read too much, ugly people start to look pretty and you’re trying to pick fights with people twice your size. It goes without saying that you should never drive while under the influence of this riveting new novel. If you or someone you love has a problem, seek help at www.marklaflamme.com. The first step is admitting you have a problem.

Call me

I’m one of those guys now. Walking down the street, oblivious to everything as I busy myself with the world inside a hand-held gadget. Completely ignoring cashiers, bosses, cops, etc., because I can’t be bothered to pull myself away from Facebook. That’s right, suckers. I got myself an Android phone. In my defense, my old phone had rotary dial and a slot for a dime.

When nature calls

Dog fights in Paris, cougars in Farmington. A cat in a trap, a deer in a trunk, Atlantic salmon in some guy’s frying pan. There’s been so much wildlife in the news lately, I expect the chupacabra to strut into the newsroom any day now. Of course, with our sports department, who’d notice?

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