Bzzzzzz

Just in time for Valentine’s Day, scientists appear to disagree about what causes the latest super virus, Zika. It’s either sexual contact or blood-sucking insects, so clearly the wisest course of action would be to avoid getting freaky with mosquitoes. I’m truly sorry if this ruins your romantic plans. I know my spring plans are shot.

Romantic tips from the heart

Also this Valentine’s Day, if you’re in a new relationship, remember that the object of your desire would much prefer something you made yourself in place of expensive jewelry or a romantic get-away. A simple card made out of dollar-store construction paper, a doll made out of your hair or that weird collection of human teeth you keep in a jar are all sure ways to her heart. Trust me on this. Do it! And when you offer your gift, please remember to record her reaction so that I can enjoy it later.

Roses are red

With Gov. Paul LePage stepping one more time into the deep doodoo, don’t you kind of wonder what Valentine’s Day would be like if he’d skipped politics and instead took a job as a Hallmark greeting card writer? It would be comically wonderful. I bet that dude can rhyme Nantucket in magical ways.

Super Bowl

Sloppy game. It seemed to come down to which team most wanted to lose. Looked like a bunch of puppy monkey babies running around out there.

But seriously

If one of those things comes to my house, I’m killing it.

The one who knocks

I finally finished “Breaking Bad,” so now I can go about my days without worrying that one of you dolts will ruin the ending for me. For the past couple weeks, I’ve been avoiding meth users, drug agents, middle-age school teachers with buttinsky wives, fast-food chicken joints, recreational vehicles and the band Badfinger just to play it safe. It’s been hell on my social life.

Badfinger

Seriously, has there ever been a cooler band name than that? It’s way better than Puppy Monkey Baby.

Up is down and east is a weenie

Burger King is poised to put hot dogs on their menu. Hot dogs! Can I be frank? This is almost as upsetting as that nightmarish prancing King Whopper, or whatever his name was, they used to use in their TV commercials. Hot dogs belong to baseball stadiums, backyard barbecues and roadside stands. If the burger joints start selling them, the world just won’t make sense anymore.

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