There will appear a shining, ornate temple or something
I’ve got a guy who emails me regularly, usually on the weekends, to point out typos he found in the paper. He never outright tells me where the typo is, though. Instead, he leaves cryptic clues so that I have to go all Dan Brown to find the error. His clues start to sound like Nostradamus quatrains, too, which really freaks me out. “Lighting and brightness are seen at Turner shining,” he’ll write. “Sabattus and Greene will act deceitfully while Leeds plots for the eagle.” That’s actually one of his easier clues. Turns out I had left the “L” out in “Public” again.

Good grooming
Saw a dude traipsing up a Lewiston Street the other day using his phone as a sort of mirror so he could get his hair all nice and pretty. It’s nice that the fellow cares about how he looks in public and all, but he was at it so long, I was afraid he’d walk into an open manhole. As all of us good groomers know, walking into an open manhole is a sure way to cause split ends.

PubLic interest
Well, doggonit, I just used “public” again in the item above. This time, I checked not once, not twice, but thrice to make sure that “L” is tucked in where it’s supposed to me. You won’t get me today, Nostradamus!

Doggonit
How come nobody uses this word anymore? It’d be a good way for us all to clean up our potty mouths. Also “confound it,” “consarnit,” “dadgummit” and “what in tarnation is going on around here!”

There’s going to be some changes around here…
Some crazed madman sent me in a photo of his ballot the other day in which he’d written me in for … checks notes … State Senator District 21. We all had a big laugh about it, but you never know. A couple of weird turns of events and BAM! I’m a state senator. My first order of business? Learning what a state senator is supposed to do. I truly have no idea. I’m also canceling all state business until after noon, so please adjust your calendars.

Some critters just don’t appreciate dad jokes
So, I heard something banging around in back of my house about 3 on a recent morning, so I dashed off to investigate. I figured it was the Webster Street bear coming back to raise a ruckus and I thought it would be great fun to get an interview with the beast. Instead of a bear, though, I came face to face with an opossum. I looked at him, he looked at me and then I said, “Hey, there, little fella. Why the long face?” At which point the opossum rolled its beady red eyes and scampered off. You gotta figure that an opossum who has been around a while has probably heard that joke a thousand times, so who can blame him for getting gone?