Talk of the Town  Ernie Anderson

I’m just a kid, really

I’ve been getting a lot of weird spam lately, with subject lines ranging from “Toenail fungus!” to “Tinnitus relief,” “Your Pee!” and “Size of a Lemon” from a sender named “Your Prostate!” I mean, seriously, yo? Seems like just yesterday I was at least getting Viagra offers and similar stuff related to youthful manly vigor. Are these weasels implying that I’m getting older? Because I vigorously deny that. I stopped aging the very moment I discovered those magical waters down by the Lewiston canals.
I’m rich, I tells you!
Another email that began “My dear friend; I want you to have this $5.6 million …” isn’t spam at all and that means I’m coming into BIG money and so I’d like to take this opportunity to say: So long, suckers! It’s been real, it’s been nice, but it ain’t been real nice. Enjoy poverty, losers!
I’m poor again
Turns out the above email WAS spam and I’m not getting any dough. I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize for my earlier remarks. Money changes a man, you know. I wasn’t myself and didn’t mean any of it.
They’re coming to get you, Barbara
My creepy movie recommendations this week are “The Ruins,” “The Descent” and “As Above, So Below.” Yes, I realize all of these movies are like a decade old and you probably saw them years ago. Watch them, anyway. If you’re like me, you’ll be inspired to give up house plants, spelunking and catacombs. I’m done with ALL of that! Consider our weekend plans canceled.
I was ascairt
While I was watching “As Above, So Below,” a foam softball I hadn’t seen in years just randomly rolled across my floor. I slept in the car that night.
That don’t play in Peoria
So, I guy in Illinois tells me he recently subscribed to the Sun Journal just so he can read my columns. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the hard stances I’ve taken here on spam, spelunking and hero squirrels. Thank you for signing up for my brand of serious journalism.
Now, we are like brothers
I was riding around on my motorcycle in Lewiston the other day when a big, fat squirrel sauntered out into the road in front of me. You know how it goes. I slammed on the brakes, fish-tailed a little bit and uttered a quick spurt of commentary that was half prayer, half cuss. I missed the squirrel by inches and then the little troublemaker went on his way. A short time later, some fool ran a stop sign ahead of me, but I was far enough back that I didn’t get wiped out by him. Did that squirrel save my life by altering my temporal course through the city by five seconds? Guess I owe somebody a bag of nuts.

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