Domicile envy

Thanks to the gazillion snowbirds who wrote me to gloat about their winter plans after I admitted to coveting the lifestyle. Hilarious. I wonder if you’ll still think it’s funny when you discover me and a half-dozen of my hitchhiking pals living in your pool house.

Letters from you people

“So I stop at Shaw’s on East Avenue and I run into a dear friend from Bates College in the lot around 9:30 p.m. His back is to the store I’m facing, and while we were chatting he could see I was distracted. Some sketchy dude was using the railings to the left of the entrance to do warm-up type activities. Thought maybe he was getting ready to run? He didn’t have a shopping bag, but had a white trash can liner of stuff. Then he crawls between the two rails and starts doing push-ups with his feet elevated on the lower rail! And he’s looking right at me! So James asks what’s so funny and I told him we had to rotate for him to evaluate. ‘Redneck gym’ anyone? Somehow this made me think of you.”

The sky is falling

This very moment, a piece of space junk may be hurtling toward Earth and at you in particular. They can’t tell us what tomorrow’s weather will be like with any accuracy but they can declare that a defunct satellite will slam into Boner, Nebraska, at 21:30 hours on Monday. It just goes to show . . . Something.

Google Wallet

It’s coming. Soon you’re credit cards will be wee bits and bytes residing deep within your cell phone or tablet. Google is also said to be working on a similar program that will enable young studs to carry their condoms in just such a fashion. But first, they need to work out a software flaw that leaves a telltale ring on the backside of your device.

The new Facebook

You hate it, don’t you? Welcome to the club. Much ire about the new rollout, which apparently strives to fix a variety of things that aren’t broken. It hearkens back to a time when people would work themselves into a froth over the new TV Guide layout or the smaller crossword puzzle in The Star.

Not that I remember those things. God no!

Forget I said anything.

Speaking of Facebook

A lady I work with isn’t on it. Can you imagine? Sometimes I just go over and stare at her. It’s like looking at the two-headed bearded woman at the carnival freak show.

Standoff in Lewiston!

Going to these things is like playing that old game of Telephone. Remember that? Here’s how you play in Lewiston.

Go to the scene of the crime. Ask someone what’s going on. He or she will tell you: “There’s a guy in that house with a gun and police are trying to make him come out.”

Drive your awesome dual sport motorcycle El Mechon around the block. Come back and ask another person what’s going on. He or she will tell you: “There’s an armed man in that house and he’s got hostages. The SWAT team is on the way.”

Drive around the block – look out for that squirrel! – come back and repeat your question. You will be told: “Police have a werewolf trapped in that apartment! He’s already eaten three kids and he’s threatening to eat the mayor next! By the way, you got a cigarette?”

Don’t give that person a cigarette. Just keep riding around the block until you hear a story you like.