Moving violations

State Police say they pulled over a guy going 146 mph Wednesday on the turnpike – in a Dodge Neon! I once dated a girl who drove a Neon and that sucker could barely go fast enough to handle the on-ramp, let alone the turnpike itself. The only thing fast about that car were my moves, if you get my drift.

WHAP!

The bandstand in Lewiston’s Kennedy Park was vandalized once again. Man, that thing gets beat up more often than a tackle dummy. I think what city leaders need to do is install one of those cartoon-style fist-on-a-spring gadgets to deter hooligans. A few wrong moves and BOING-OING-OING! Hooligan is knocked clear out of the park (“Aiyeeeeee!”) and the bandstand is saved! It would be awesome if we could get one of the more advanced fist-on-a-spring doohickeys with cool sound effects. We’ll want BAM, DOINK and KAPOW at the very least.

Fancy schmancy

Since when did we start calling that thing a bandstand, anyway? As long as I can remember, it’s been a gazebo, which is just plain fun to say. What, did the gazebo go off and get a college education or something? “Bandstand” is just such a haughty word.

Flying high again

Here at the paper, we’ve been exploring the idea of getting a drone. I should point out that not a single person has suggested that perhaps I could pilot the drone if breaking news called for it. You can hardly blame them. My lack of photographic skills is legendary. Even though the drone would be several hundred feet in the air and nowhere near my physical person, I would still manage to get closeup shots of my thumb in every image, guaranteed.

The most wonderful time of the year?

OK, what’s going on here. What’s it all about? In the past week I’ve received two – count them TWO – Christmas cards that appeared out of the blue. I thought maybe I’d blacked out again and slept through October and November, but nope. According to my calculations, Christmas is still many weeks away and frankly, I’d like to keep it that way. So, why the cards? I mean, I’m touched and all, but I can’t help but feel as though I may be missing something. Or perhaps I just got on to Santa’s “good” list for the first time since . . .  well, ever.

Hairless

There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m going to just say it: Wendell Strout has shaved his mustache. I first became aware of this troubling development on Wednesday when I walked into the Lewiston police station. There he sat, the normally hirsute animal control officer with an upper lip that was completely hairless. Hairless! The shock has not worn off. For me, it was like returning to your old hometown and finding an empty lot where your childhood home once sat. Or like coming back from a long trip and finding your faithful dog shaved down to pink puckered flesh. Or something. Clearly I’m raving, but it’s unsettling. Wendell Strout has no mustache!

And stay out!

Over the police scanner Wednesday night, a dispatcher listed the places where a local ne’er-do-well is no longer allowed. They included L.L. Bean, The Gap, Kohl’s and the Tommy Hilfiger outlet, to name just a few. That dude may be unpopular, but damn, he looks good.

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