The most important thing you’ll hear today
Stop whatever you’re doing at once and take note. This is big news. I have a new favorite local pizza. I’ll give you a minute to argue with your wife about it over the breakfast table as you try to make a guess. Think you got it? Nice try, slugger. My new favorite pizza locally is from Wards Neighborhood Market on Pine Street in Lewiston. I know! I’m as surprised as you! But these pizzas are always cooked perfectly, they’re generous with their toppings and a single pizza costs just $3.99. $2.99 when they’re on sale. Check it out, son. But first, go apologize for that horrible thing you said to your wife. Seriously, you kiss your mom with that mouth?

Victor News blues
Count me among the people saddened by the news that this Lewiston store will be closing. Now where am I supposed to do all of my Christmas shopping at 10:30 p.m. on Dec. 24th? Victor News was always the place to go if you needed rolling tobacco, a whoopie cushion, a brick of emergency lotto scratchers, a squirt gun shaped like a grenade, a lighter shaped like a fist, a canister of Mace, an Ed Asner Chia pet and a belt buckle larger than your head. Which, ironically, is my Christmas list from last year copied word-for-word.

Inflatable nightmares
You know what I like to do? Drive around just before dusk when the avid Halloween decorators are just getting around to inflating their lawn ghouls. Why, it’s like watching monsters being born! Unfortunately, while I was waiting for one such ghoul to ripple to life the other day, I was horrified to discover that it wasn’t Frankenstein or Dracula being spawned in the front yard. It was Santa Claus! Too scary, brother. And now I have to go out and buy a dozen eggs.

Hello, Darlin’
Don’t you just despise those people who park their cars in front of stores or on the street and leave their stereos cranking so anybody within four blocks gets to hear and feel the pulsing beat of truly horrible music? Half of what you hear is (arguably) music. The other half is the frantic tremors of various car parts, which seem to be vibrating wildly in an attempt to escape the car and its wretched operator. Next time I happen upon one of these ear violators, I’m going to pay a 9-year-old kid to hack into the stereo system and arrange it so that it will only play Conway Twitty songs forevermore. Better still, I’ll have my hacker friend set it so the stereo plays JUST ONE CONWAY TWITTY SONG over and over. I’m thinking “I See the Want To in Your Eyes.” That’ll learn ya.


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