Move it along, buddy
I can’t help but notice that they’ve removed the directional arrows from the floors at the local supermarkets. This has thrown my life into disarray. Now how am I supposed to discern which direction I should take from the cat food aisle to the milk coolers? Am I supposed to just guess at the proper lane when I want to travel from the beef counter to the deli? That’s how accidents happen, yo. I think the stores have no choice now but to put flaggers in there to help direct the flow of traffic, and you know how flaggers are. Pause just a second too long at the fresh fish counter and they’ll start screaming at you, waving their arms all angrily and blowing that stupid whistle. It’s very stressful. Maybe I’ll just eat out tonight.

What, in this market?
The economy is so whacked right now — I know a guy who had to take out a second mortgage just to put a gallon of gas in his truck so he could drive across town to buy a single sheet of plywood — that you can answer just about all annoying questions with one simple line: “What? In this market?” Seriously, try it. It works in just about any situation. Next time the wife asks you to remove your filthy underwear from the back of the couch say, “What? In this market?” and watch the magic happen. Also effective if the boss asks you to work overtime, the kids ask you to take them to the movies or a police officer advises you to step out of the car and walk a straight line. Be sure to let me know how you make out.

Pole-tergeist
A good 15 years ago, I wrote a story about Crocs, researching the subject by walking around downtown Lewiston in a bright orange pair of them, dutifully reporting the reaction I got from the locals. The reaction was . . . hurtful, mostly. Since then, everybody and his sister’s boyfriend insists on sending me clever Croc memes on Facebook, to the point where I get at least a handful every week. Fifteen years this has been going on! And now, after writing a column in which I SOLVE THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW POLE, Croc memes have been replaced by photos, videos and artist renderings of those !&^%$#! Walmart poles. Every day, people send me a fresh batch of pole pictures as though it has become my job — nay, my DUTY! — to preserve each and every one of them for . . . I dunno, posterity or something.

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Someone must have started a business hauling naked guys around Lewiston