Milestone

Welp. After 18 years of reporting, it finally happened: I was finally able to lead a story with a sentence containing the words “sea urchin” and “gonads.” (See Thursday morning’s gem.) When you’re a young reporter, the old-timers always tell you it will happen someday, if you work hard and stay patient. In the back of my mind, though, I never thought it would happen to me. What a milestone. I have so many people to thank and I don’t even know where to begin. I guess I should start with that sea urchin and thank him directly for the glory of his gonads. Thank you, urchin, for your boy parts. You’ve made this grizzled reporter very happy.

OK, there’s nowhere else to go from here, so I don’t need to be a reporter anymore. What next? I’m thinking pest control. Those guys make BIG bucks.

And speaking of pests

How would you feel if the bat pictured above this column came flapping into your bedroom late at night, eh? Because it could happen. I know where you live. Please don’t swat me. I bruise easily.

Stupid interwebs

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If you’re reading this online, the above item makes no sense at all. In contrast to the rest of this column, which is perfectly lucid.

Rain

And more rain. That’s all we get around here. It’s getting so you have to wear galoshes just to go outside at 1 a.m. to fire off your brick of firecrackers in the street.

And speaking of fireworks

Why can’t those gang bangers (you see what I did there?) be content to enjoy the sizzling, quiet beauty of the sparkler? Boy, you haven’t experienced the nostalgic joy of summer until you step, drunk and barefoot, onto a glowing rod of metal burning at 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit.

Confused again

When they assigned me to cover the TED gathering at the Lewiston library Wednesday night, I thought I was going over to hang out with that talking teddy bear from that new moving picture show. Disappointing. However, I did come away from it with that gonad line, so I’ll call it even.

Field of Screams

So, what are you doing for the holiday? Oh, yeah? That’s nice. Be safe. Me? Oh, I’ll probably go out to Oxford, catch some youth baseball. You know. Relaxing stuff.


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