I cast thee out!

I’ve got nothing to say about the election other than when it comes to presidential email spam, Hillary has Trump beat by leaps and bounds. I’m seeing roughly 50 emails a day from the Hillary team as they seek to assure me of her good works. And like spam from B. Obama back in 2008, the Hillary junk mail seems impervious to filters, rules and the spam folder. No matter how many times I try to exorcise those hell-borne emails, they keep landing in my inbox. I’m going to try holy water next.

Speak of the Devil

David Sargent wrote a cool column last week about the various locations in the area that are named for Beelzebub himself. Devil’s Den in Sabattus, for instance, a place I’d never heard of, but which I will now attempt to reach on my dual sport even if it requires riding 90 degrees up a rock face. What, you think I can’t do it?

The Devil’s Rejects

Whoops, lost my train of thought talking about the dual sport. What I meant to say was that back where I come from, a place called Devil’s Chair was where you went if you were young, reckless and looking for a remote spot in which to be young and reckless. Devil’s Chair was a wooded stretch along the Messalonskee Stream, with an ugly rock formation looming over all of our adolescent indiscretions, not that you can prove any of it. Wonderful place. Sadly, the last time I went out there, it had been transformed into a ski area, or some damn thing, with an actual house jutting out over the chair itself and utterly ruining the ambiance of the joint. Progress sucks.

Wikifreaks

Julian Assange is dead! Pamela Anderson murdered him with a vegan meal! No, wait. He’s alive, but the government of Ecuador cut his internet connection, triggering the so-called Dead Man’s Switch. More leaks to come. Or something. Is anybody buying this? The world these days is about as coherent and believable as “Back to the Future II.”

The stink of rot

The “Walking Dead” is back tonight. Somehow I think seeing a beloved character getting whacked to death with a spike-enhanced baseball bat will be less gruesome and unsettling than anything involving Hillary and Donald. Flying brains and shards of skull will be a nice break from the horror show of the election. I want to go on record as saying that it will be Abraham who gets the bat. Although, maybe he’ll survive the beat down by slithering under a Coke machine. (I’m still bitter about the Glenn thing.)

Look away, I’m hideous

I spent the past week with eight stitches running down the side of my face and not one of you – not ONE! – asked what had happened. Apparently you don’t want to hear about the shark attack.

Just kidding

It was a prison shanking.

Such sweet sorrow

I’m on vacation next week. Try not to miss me.


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