My shame is great

For years, I’ve been tooling on you ween . . . you people who frequently sport sweater vests. I’ve made fun of you relentlessly and without remorse. What a jerk, huh? Well, fear not. Comeuppance is at hand. Recently, some weasel from the old block posted on Facebook some photos of my first-grade class at Brookside Elementary in Waterville. Can you imagine the horror when I beheld that photo of me clad in a by-God sweater vest? And not just any sweater vest, an argyle one. Now I understand how Bill Clinton felt when Linda Tripp spilled the beans. How Marion Barry felt after his motel room indulgences were captured in video. How Gary Hart . . . But you get my drift. And like those personalities before me, I’m going to pass the buck. I’m going to go ahead and blame bad parenting.

Flag on the play

So, how about that NFL officiating, huh? I haven’t seen this many bad calls since they put that pay phone in at T. Woody’s. Which was a bar I used to frequent. Which you kind of need to know to get the joke. Let’s move on.

Third down and stupid

So, how about that NFL officiating, huh? I haven’t seen this many infuriated people on Facebook since they introduced the Timeline. If all those people follow through with their threats to stop watching football, there will be six people tuning into the Super Bowl.

Replacement Google

At least if El Goog ever goes on strike, we’ve got a qualified backup in replacementgoogle.com. Go ahead, search for something.

Disorder in the court

In Bangor, a fellow was sentenced to 30 days in the slammer for showing up hammered for a court hearing. When the bailiff announced “all rise,” the dude thought they were talking about blood-alcohol level.

She’s still got it

Got a nice letter from an 82-year-old woman who detailed for me all the things I should try to enjoy during Maine’s four seasons. Kites and flowers in spring, barbecues and fireworks in summer, et al. And then she points out why I’m misguided in my loathing of winter. “Evergreens (trees, wreaths), snow, mistletoe (kisses). A new year and more kisses!”

I could be wrong, but I think she’s hitting on me!

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