To whom am I speaking?
Oh, this is spooky. Apparently, the Sun Journal provides an audio service where some robotic voice will read the day’s news to you, the “reader.” I tried it the other day with one of my columns and I’ve got to admit, the narrator sounded pretty authentic. The creepiest part was when I sneezed halfway through the column and the voice said “God bless you.” Such amazing advances. I suppose next, they’ll offer to send some guy over to your house to finish the crossword puzzle for you.

Auburn is looking for business ideas
Oh, sure. City leaders are reaching out to the public for entrepreneurial ideas, but when I suggest things they’re all: “That’s not even legal” or “We don’t allow nudity on public streets” or “Stop bothering the mayor when he’s trying to take a bath.” They’ve got no respect at all for my sharp business mind.

Top Gun LA wants entrepreneurs for 2022
See above. Relax your rules a bit, people, and I’ll bring you miracles! Miracles, I say!

The proof is in the pipe
I mean, for instance, when I was a hooligan teenager, I used to say all the time, “Duuuudes. They should just make pot legal and sell it in stores, you know? There should be pot stores on every corner.” Huh? Huh?? I wasn’t smart enough to get through high school algebra, but you’ve got to admit, my prognostications were spot on.

Auburn council sets vote on expanding ‘strip’ zoning
See? Now we’re talking! I don’t know what it means, exactly, but I like the sound of it.

Caratunk woman in race against Bruce Poliquin for Maine’s 2nd District
I have no particular comment on this. I just like saying “Caratunk.” To me, that’s the exact sound you hear when you drive off with your coffee cup still on the roof of your truck. Plus, if you say it just right, it sounds vaguely dirty. Blurt it out at your next job interview and see!

PS
Also, Thorndike. Try to fit that in at your interview, as well. If the boss starts to titter wildly, you know this is the place to work.

Please, no ring-ting-tingling
Every day I wander around all tense and nervous, wondering where, what and when I’ll hear the season’s first Christmas song. “Blue Christmas” at the supermarket? “Winter Wonderland” at the auto garage? “Grandma Got Runover by a Reindeer?” at the massage parlor? But now I fear I’ve said too much.