Yoink!

The State of Maine, a nasty little welsher, has rescinded on its promise to hand over $300,000 to Auburn schools. This comes as no surprise to me. The State of Maine once promised it would buy all my drinks at the club one night after I helped it move out of its crappy apartment. Did the State of Maine deliver? Nossir, it did not.

Fans are everywhere

I got this little note in my mailbox. I’m pretty sure it’s the real deal.

“My name is emmanuela, I’m searching for a reasonable man who could be trusted and i decided to write you , i will also like to know whom you are! It might also lead to a good relationship.”

Tomato, tomahto

So, I came wheeling out of the woods on Monday to find downtown Lewiston crawling with Bates College students in colorful outfits. They were staggering through the streets in elegant gowns, flowing wigs and face makeup; howling with joy up and down College Street in the bright afternoon. Youthful exuberance is what you call that. Unless the revelers happen to be local kids, in which you call it disorderly conduct and criminal trespass.

Enter the Dragon

So, the privately managed Dragon space capsule sailed overhead at 2:50 a.m. Wednesday, a sparkling light in the sky that heralded in a new era of space exploration. A literal torch passed from the bureaucrat hands of NASA to the more adventurous fingers of the private entrepreneur. Beautiful stuff. Historic, really. At least I assume it was. As is the norm, a big fat bank of clouds settled in over Maine around that time as if to say: “Nothing to see here, son. Eyes to yourself.” Someday, the sun will explode, and while the rest of the planet scrambles in freezing horror, up here in Maine we’ll go on oblivious, because a logjam of clouds will have taken up residence in the sky and we won’t see Jack diddly.

A friendly cigar?

So, on Thursday, I got an email from Bill Clinton with the subject line: “Meeting you.” You know what, Bill? I don’t think so. You did wonderful things for the economy and you guided the nation into a mostly peaceful period. But you’ve also been known to be . . . How can I put this delicately . . . Handsy. And I’ve got my reputation to think about.

Fireworks!

On sale now. It’s just so strange to be legally allowed to walk into a store and buy things that snap, crackle and pop. I’m accustomed to smuggling my fireworks in disgusting and painful ways. You know what? I’m going to keep doing that. For tradition’s sake.