Talk of the Town Ernie Anderson

The Saga of the Sodden Sofa

Well, my friends, it’s real. The soggy green sofa of Lewiston lore is real and I know this because an estimated 5,000 of you have sent me photos of it. Last week, I couldn’t find the enigmatic couch because, as it turns out, I was looking at the wrong end of Webber Avenue. Had my map upside down or something. But there it sits in all of its moldering splendor and nobody seems to know why. If the homeowner is looking to get rid of that unwieldy piece of furniture, he or she should just declare that the sodden sofa is art and have it placed in Kennedy Park.

Beauty is in the swollen black eye of the beholder

And speaking of art, I also wrote a piece about the many sculptures, paintings and murals showing up around Lewiston in recent months. I feel I’m qualified to speak on such lofty issues, too, because in spite of appearances I’m really quite a cultured chap. Why, even as I write, I have a replica Don Quixote painting on the wall behind me so you just KNOW I have an eye for the good stuff. Of course, next to that one is a painting of Arturo Gatti and Micky Ward slugging it out in the first of their legendary trilogy of fights. The flying blood and spraying spittle really speaks to me.

Odds schmodds, that’s what I say

So last week, I wrote a story about people who play the lottery and the terrible odds they face of ever winning the jackpot. I mean, we’re talking about 3,000,000-to-1 odds here, people. It’s a fool’s game. A complete waste of moolah. Might as well just throw your cash into the Lewiston canal, am I right? But, let’s be real here. The jackpot as I write is 1 BILLION dollars and so, oh yes. I went out and bought some tickets. Call me a chump if you want to, but I got my tickets with something called a “multiplyer” and if my calculations are right . . . don’t forget to carry the two . . . I’m practically GUARANTEED to win this thing! Who’s the chump now, sucker? You won’t be laughing so hard when I buzz your house in my spanking new Eurocopter Mercedes-Benz EC 145. That’s a luxury helicopter, but you’re poor folk. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.


OK, so now it’s Wednesday and as it happens, I DIDN’T win the billion-dollar jackpot. Clearly the game is rigged. I mean, I had the multiplyer and everything! No Eurocopter for me. Instead, I will be buzzing your house in my usual way — on a rebuilt Huffy I found next to a dumpster last summer.

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