Eau de Stupido

While covering the St. Dom’s High School graduation last week, I wanted to ask one young graduate about her experience at the school. “So,” I said, “how have you enjoyed your time here at Edward Little?” Oh, the look of annoyed incredulity she gave me before correcting me on the name of the school. If you could whip that look up into a scent and bottle it, what a fine cologne it would make. You could call it “Are You Stupid? Or What?” Get it now while supplies last.

I command it

Last week I complained aloud that Smokey’s carnival had not yet made it to the Twin Cities. The very next time I drove through Great Falls Plaza in Auburn, the carnival was there in all of is ghoulish splendor. It’s as though my thoughts alone had summoned it, which is more than a little creepy. I will now complain aloud that we don’t have a hot tub and Olympic-size pool in the Sun Journal newsroom and wait for the magic to happen.

I got your ring toss

So to summarize, I can summon an entire carnival, stomach-churning rides and all, through the awesome power of my mind. But somehow, I can’t mange to land that stupid plastic frog on that stupid plate so I can win a stupid Spongebob Squarepants doll for my girlfriend. I mean, wife. For my wife. I would never bring my girlfriend to the carnival.

Sticks and stones

Met a nice fella the other day who, upon recognizing my name, got rather excited. “Oh!” he exclaimed. “You’re that editor from the Sun Journal.” Hurtful! I mean, why not just kick me in the groin, say mean things about my mother and question my manhood? You know, like most people I meet out in public places.

Big Brother goes to the movies

So, the drive-in theater has been ordered by the state to ban smoking on its premises. No smoking outside. No smoking in your car. No smoking period. You got that? The new rule applies to cigarettes, cigars and vape, which, in case the name confuses you, is not actually smoke but vapor. I expect full compliance with this new decree from Uncle, just like everyone complied in past years with rules pertaining to beer-drinking, passenger-smuggling, woods-peeing and out-making.

Aw, shucks

I got one of the nicest notes ever in the mail last week and it consisted of just 23 words. “Be careful riding that motorcycle . . . Just plain look forward to your columns” were 12 of those words. I’m not going to include the remaining 11 because they comprise a line so flattering, you’d think I was making it up. Plus, it’s fun to annoy you.

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