I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. My favorite street name, back when I worked in that world, was “Boo.” It’s short, it’s easy to remember, and if you say it just right during the commission of a street crime, it can cause comical fright among your fellow hooligans.

Great fun. When your name is “Boo,” every day is Halloween.

I never had a street name, myself, unless you count “Flamer,” which I don’t, because that’s just lazy, yo. I got to thinking about it last week when Gov. Paul LePage, hankering for the taste of his own foot, got to talking about the various aliases among our local drug peddlers.

D-Money? Meh. Smoothie? Not bad. Makes you wonder about the origin of the name. Shifty? Has a slight Tarantino flavor.

Since I can’t come up with a street name of my own — that’s just not how it’s done, bruh — I thought the least I could do is supply some for those who tend to dominate our headlines. I don’t know how much time these characters spend on the actual street, but if they decide to go in that direction, they’re going to need spiffy appellations to get them by.

Gov. LePage: Let’s call him “La Bouche.” That’s a shortened version of “Pied dans la Bouche,” which Google translate tells me is French for “Foot in Mouth.” I think once the latest scandal dies down, you’ll see the charm in it.

Lewiston Police Chief Michael Bussiere: We shall call him “Mr. Clean.” He’s not big and bald and I’ve never seen him in a white T-shirt, but the chief has a bone-deep aversion to the term “The Dirty Lew.” I think at night, he sneaks out with soap and brush and attempts to scrub away all uses of the term, from the concrete undersides of bridges and from the mouths of heathens.

Jason Moen: “Zamboni.” Everybody has taken to calling the Auburn deputy police chief “Frosty the Snowman” after he left his sunroof open during a snowstorm. That’s low-hanging fruit, dawg. “Zamboni” is a whole lot edgier.

Doug Taylor: “Bash.” It’s simply a play on Brother Doug’s Jesus Party, sure, but come on. The dude has been working out. “Bash” is fitting in all kinds of ways.

Auburn Police Chief Phil Crowell: “Walking Tall.” As Auburn’s police chief he’s a lawman and he’s skyscraper tall. Sometimes simplicity just works, yo.

Maine Department of Public Safety spokesman Stephen McCausland: “Byline.” I originally thought to deem him “10-4” because that’s how he signs off on all phone conversations. But “Byline” is more fitting in the world of news: McCausland writes such orderly news releases, a reporter needs only to paste them in and slap his own byline atop it before sending it off. Not that I’d ever do that, mind you.

Androscoggin County Sheriff Eric Samson: “Midnight.” The day before his inauguration, Samson said, “I’ll consider myself the sheriff at midnight.” Bam! New street name. Plus, midnight is the hour in which I will typically call him at home to bug him for information about county police matters.

Ed Barrett: “Stash.” Seriously, have you seen the Lewiston city administrator’s mustache? It’s GLORIOUS!

Auburn Mayor Jonathan LaBonte: “Whirley Pop.” I have no idea why just yet, but I know I can find a way to make it work.

Wendell Strout: “Wile-E” The animal control officer has so many ways of capturing, corralling or disposing of animals, he’s like the local version of the Acme store.

I have others — including about nine for Russ “End of the Line” Dillingham — but space is short and I’m a tired old chap.

That’s it! That’s my new street name: “El Chapo.”

Nobody’s using that one, right?

“El Chapo” LaFlamme is a Sun Journal staff writer and in no way related to a Mexican drug lord. Email him at [email protected]

Only subscribers are eligible to post comments. Please subscribe or to participate in the conversation. Here’s why.

Use the form below to reset your password. When you've submitted your account email, we will send an email with a reset code.