Don’t blink during wintertime in Lewiston
What’s this? You say 41 vehicles were towed for on-street parking in Lewiston after a recent three-incher of a snowstorm? You say nearly four dozen people didn’t know better in spite of that fancy flashing lights system they installed in the City Hall tower? Clearly what we need next is a livestream of the tower beamed into all of our homes so we can monitor round-the-clock whether it’s flashing or not.

Chevron wants to be your momma
An annoyed reader weighed in the other day on the matter of gas pumps that get all up in your business when you just want to squeeze in a few gallons and go about your day. “What’s your zip code? Do you have a discount card? Want a car wash today? Need a receipt? Everything all right at home? Are you eating enough fiber? Wearing clean underpants? You could be in an accident, you know.” Some stations also affix those little speakers to the pumps that blare advertisements in your hear while you’re getting grilled on the matter of your zip code and the state of your underthings. I tell you, this is why I grow my own gasoline at home.

Inspect this!
A bill is being pushed that would eliminate inspection stickers in Maine. Oh, how I want this. I mean, it was one thing when all they checked were your lights, blinker and emergency brake. Now the inspectors are all up in your undercarriage and they get all uppity over minor things, like a bumper that’s fastened to the frame with just those wire handles from Jiffy Pop packages or a muffler that’s actually a Pringles can. If I’ve learned anything from all this, it’s that I’ve got to eat less junk food.

I before E or something
The lovely and talented Beckie Conrad has announced she will be leaving the L-A Chamber of Commerce. The lady has always been extremely nice to me, and on a few occasions has rescued me from the abyss of business stories that were clearly over my head. How did I thank her? By never once – not a single time! – spelling her first name correctly. My shame is great, but I shan’t fail her now. Farewell, Mrs. Conrad.

It ain’t me
So somebody somewhere has been mailing out mugshots of a dude from Carrabassett Valley and using my information as a return address. It’s one of those fancy, printed address labels, too. I have no idea why someone would do this, but man, you’ve sunk pretty low if I’m the best person you can come up with to impersonate. If you get one of these envelopes, you know for sure it’s not from me because A. I wouldn’t have any idea how to come up with one of those high-falutin’ print labels and B. Can’t spell Carrabassett without spellcheck.

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