‘Stranger Things’

Have you been watching this weird Netflix series? I found it fairly unmemorable with one key exception: In episode 7 at the 20-minute mark, a man receiving a beat down delivers what I consider the perfect “What th…” moment. It’s a thing of beauty and I think you should tune in if only for this one scene. You don’t see a genuine “what th…” out in the wild all that often. It’s delightful and it should serve as instruction to others as to how to properly express astonishment.

Fallen comrade

Kevin Mills and I had this ritual. Whenever I walked into the newsroom and found him sitting at his desk, I’d simply acknowledge him by saying “Mills.” He’d wait until I was a few paces along and respond “LaFlamme.” It wasn’t much of a ritual, but it gave us an air of importance and it was something we did for 20-plus years. We were like that cartoon wolf and sheepdog pair who greet each other day after day out at the farm. I think I was the wolf in this scenario, although I’m not completely sure why. I’ll miss the ritual and the magnificent scribe. Godspeed, Mills, wherever you are.

Need beer

I saw a guy panhandling on Lisbon Street the other day with this sentiment written on his sign. Seriously, the sign said “need beer, not going to lie.” Twenty years ago, that kind of unabashed honesty might have been considered a clever approach to panhandling, but the novelty has long since worn off for most. And I have a feeling it was a slow day for the dude because a few days later, I saw him again with a sign that replaced “beer” with “food.” Hey, good marketing is all about making adjustments.

Please, no cupping

I admit it. When I first heard the term “cupping” in relation to the Olympics, I thought maybe . . . but just you never mind what I thought. As it turns out, cupping is an ancient method of stimulating energy flow. In my day, the term meant something else entirely.

From the mouths of babes

There’s a group of kids in downtown Lewiston who holler out to me every time I ride by on my motorcycle. To me it sounds like they’re yelling “yawn Ford tongue depressor pun!” and I just can’t make sense of it. Is it a threat? A request? Of course, I could just stop and ask them to translate, but it’s more fun trying to decipher this esoteric kid talk on my own. Plus, I’ve read “Lord of the Flies” about a hundred times and . . . well, who needs it?

Seeing stars

You know how many shooting stars I’ve seen during this year’s Perseid meteor shower? Zero, that’s who. Of course, while I was out there looking for them, my hammock ripped in half, spilling me onto the ground below, and I might have been unconscious for a few hours. Frankly, it was a nice break in the day.

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