Between the lines

More white lines have been painted up the length of Pine Street with no explanation whatsoever. Lanes for biking? Jogging? It’s like Nazca (look it up) all up in here. I swear, if you fly high enough above the city, all those seemingly random street lines will connect to spell out a message. Probably LOL.

What’s so funny?

I love the Sabattus town meetings. I find the people there both engaged and engaging, and they always treat me nice. At Town Hall Thursday night, a dozen jokes were cracked during the course of their annual meeting. Raucous laughter ensued and a tense mood was suddenly lightened. Ha ha ha! Good one, Walter. Maybeline, you’re a real card! My problem? I didn’t get a single one of their jokes. I’m pretty sure you have to live in Sabattus to understand why article 2, on the matter of 36 M.R.S.A Section 505, is knee-slapping hilarious.

Sticks and stones

It’s one of those things I wish I was making up. In St. Paul, Minnesota (and soon to be in your local schools and human resource guideline booklets), some do-gooder has declared that use of the term Hump Day, along with any associated images or references to a camel, may be considered racist. Racist to whom, we’re not really sure. Joe Camel, maybe. Or that Geico dromedary who so annoys his co-workers. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. The people who so merrily invent new forms of racism aren’t really interested in making the world a less offensive place. By frowning upon the way we talk, the way we dress for Halloween and the way we celebrate the middle of the God-awful work week, they distract us from the much larger issues that vex us. They confuse and divide us. With each new claim of racist behavior, they test to see how willingly we’ll obey even the most outlandish of social rules they set. Keep us walking on political egg shells and maybe we won’t notice how they’re stripping away our rights and driving us all on the fast train to ruin. And by that I mean no offense to trains, engineers or cartoon villains with pointy mustaches.

Yucks

I realize the above item isn’t funny. To be fair, the rest of the column hasn’t been so hot, either.

Pants for all

At the Lewiston Auburn Economic Growth Council annual dinner on Wednesday, three people approached me to discuss the important distinctions between trousers and slacks. Also, pantaloons. These were the area’s movers and shakers, the brightest minds that the community has to offer, but you know what? Not a one of them had an acceptable answer for this important question. What’s the difference between trousers and slacks, and what in TIF’s sake is a pantaloon? We’ve got a real mystery on our hands.

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