Political spam
Boy, you gotta love an election year. Both Joe Biden and Donald Trump are writing me constantly, begging for my vote and subtly hinting that they could sure use some financial support. My junk filter is overheating badly as I try to stay on top of it, so if you write me with urgent news, try to avoid using the terms: Democrat, Republican, bi-partisan, red, blue, donkey, elephant, economy and phrases like “a threat to our democracy” and “bold initiatives.” I think we’ll be all right since most people who write me mainly use swear words and exclamations.

Pubic activities
Yes, yes, I know. In a column I wrote last week about the scary ideas behind Shopping Cart Theory I accidentally left the L out of the word “public” in a sentence near the end of the masterpiece. I gotta give it to my sharp-eyed readers because an estimated nine thousand of you wrote to ridicule me over this unfortunate error. It’s the second time in 30 years I’ve made this particular mistake, if I remember right. Way back in the day, I wrote about the local fire department performing a “pubic service” somewhere and my, how the readers scolded me. I made one even more egregious error when writing about the county sheriff’s department, but if I were to recreate that one for you, my editor’s head might pop off, so just use your imagination.

Hot coffee on hot days
Why do people think it’s so strange to drink hot coffee on torrid days? I ordered a cup at a joint in Poland last weekend when the temperature was right around 95 degrees and I swear the dude behind the counter thought I might die. Wouldn’t I like something cooler, he asked? Iced coffee perhaps? Always makes me feel heroic after I walk out of there with my scalding cup. Tempted to start chewing tobacco so I can spit a stream at a scorpion just to enhance the manly effect.

You guessed it
Yes, that vivid tobacco juice vs. scorpion scene was a reference to “The Outlaw Josey Wales.” Nice catch, and appropriate, too. You just KNOW ol’ Josey ordered hot coffee when he went to McDonald’s in summertime, too.

My Bodyguard
Since I watched a couple of really great movies about Bigfoot last week, I’ve been on kind of a Sasquatch kick. I was never a believer before, but now I expect to stumble upon Mr. Foot every time I go by even a small patch of woods. Thorncrag? The wilderness between Lisbon Street and River Road in Lewiston? Garcelon Bog? His Hairiness is out there somewhere and once I find him, nobody will ever make fun of my spelling mistakes again!