Frosty the Mood Swinger

There’s a giant snowman guarding a lawn at the corner of Webster Street and East Avenue in Lewiston. As you drive by, the snowman makes faces at you – here it looks like he’s whistling. A second later, he’s smiling with giant red lips. How cool! East Avenue is not the place to take your eyes off the road, but I’m giving this dude the Christmas Decoration of the Year Award, nonetheless. The manic snowman narrowly inches out my second choice: the awesome house on Goff Street with lighted icicles that appear to drip neon. It’s keen.

Contact

Somewhere in downtown Lewiston, a woman called police to report neighbors were smoking a lot of pot and that she was getting a contact high. Six reporters and three photographers rushed over to check it out. Because we’re journalists, damn it.

Image is everything

Saw a tough looking dude sitting in his car the other day with his radio cranked. It was in a bank parking lot and other customers were eyeing him nervously. Was it death metal that throbbed from his stereo? Rage rock? Nossir. It was Bruno Mars, the master of the dulcet whine, spreading his special brand of despair across that part of Lewiston and causing irreparable damage to the tough guy’s image. Might as well crank Celine Dion, son. Now, fork over your man card.

Beastly

I can always tell when the History Channel has re-re-re-re-aired the episode of “MonsterQuest” detailing the legendary Turner Beast from 2006. I can tell because the light announcing messages on my phone is blinking hot enough to melt the plastic and there they are, a half-dozen recordings from people around the country who have fresh insights into our roadside creature. “I’ll tell you what that thing was, my friend,” declares a nice man from Louisiana, who just might be one of those duck hunting guys from that show. “T’was a Second Empire Malamute with a touch of the spank worm, you mark my word.” OK, he didn’t really say that, but the point is that I never hear the same theory twice when these people get to lighting up my phone. And because I’m maxed out on the whole thing, I’ve formally asked History Channel to place one of those convenient blue dots over my face whenever they feel the need to run that episode again. Actually, as I understand it, several people have requested the same thing. It’s just hurtful.

Duck Dynasty

One side is outraged at language they deem as hate-filled, uttered by the hirsute guy with the shotgun. The other side says the duck hunter is entitled to his opinions and everyone should just get off his case. But has anybody bothered to get the ducks’ point of view here? For the love of God, won’t somebody think about the ducks?

All joking aside

I absolutely, 100 percent, with no hidden meanings, hope you have the best Christmas of your lives and that the Elves on your Shelves don’t kill you while you sleep. Merry Christmas, readers.

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