Easter eggs

Since I can’t hide brightly colored eggs in the real world and challenge you to find them, I’m going to scatter a variety of made-up words throughout the remainder of this column and see who among you is sober enough to recognize them. It will be great fun and educational, too. Of course, there’s a strongling possibility that I’ll forget all about this literary egg hunt by the time I move on to the next item. I’m a man of many moods.

You Really Got Me

Van Halen coming to Maine? Well, doesn’t that make me want to feather my hair, dangle a blue bandanita out of my back pocket and pick up a rack of Stroh’s. I’m not the world’s biggest Van Halen fan, it’s true, but come on. Crank “Runnin’ With The Devil’ loud enough and you’ll be doing that goofy, overbite dance in no time. Unless Sammy Hagar is singing, in which case I want nothing to do with it.

Conehead

In the photo above my Wednesday column, in which I confessed to a trepidicious inability to order ice cream, some wit sketched a cone onto the top of my head. Pure voodoo is what it is. A few weeks ago, the same clown added a beard to my photo and my face itched all night. After the cone was added, my hair was a mess for an entire day. I tell you what. If they vandalize the next column photo with a codpiece, I’m calling in sick that day.

Lawmakers close clean election loophole

Boy, it’s easy to read this headline wrong first thing in the morning. Never you mind what I thought it said.

Hippity hop

Our lugubrious governor seems to be scrapping with everybody lately. Stephen King last week, the bloated war on drugs this week and now he’s tangling with elderly folks looking to get their pets spayed. Somewhere at this very moment. Gov. LePage is probably punching an Easter bunny right in the eggs.

Statuesque

Speaking of guys in costume, the Statue of Liberty dude dancing around on Main Street in Lewiston continues to make me uneasy. In the early part of Tuesday, he was really in the zone, dancing and bopping and singing, enthusiastic to the point of poonish. When I drove by later in the day, he seemed listless and sad, barely managing a goofy overbite dance for the passing masses. I almost went in to file my taxes just to cheer him up. Almost.

No parking in the red zone

I’m pleased to announce that the last of the snowbanks have departed Walnut Street in Lewiston, leaving travelers to complain about the usual annoyances instead of snow – slow-walking people crossing the street at diagonals, delivery trucks blocking a lane-and-a-half (but it’s apparently OK because they have their hazard lights on) and random weirdos screaming absurdications at passersby. Ah, spring in downtown Lewiston. Can the first shirtless man be far behind?

Bet you feel stupid

For believing that ‘lugubrious’ isn’t a real word.