Brief report
So, I was walking through the men’s clothing department at Walmart the other day, on my way to a more macho side of the store, when I noticed that underpants are now under lock and key, just like the camping supplies and pet medicine. Is this a sign of our times, or what? Now, if you want to experiment with something frilly to wow your lady, you have to stand there explaining your needs to a giggling Walmart clerk before you can get it. Not that I’m shopping for something frilly, mind you. I was there for truck parts and you cannot prove otherwise.

Brevity is
So, I got a voicemail at work the other day in which only one word could be heard from the caller. That word? “Interesting.” I appreciate the fellow getting right to the point, but a little more information would be nice. What’s interesting? My latest column? The fact that I still have a job? My Walmart underwear preferences, what?

Quit it
People keep “poking” me on Facebook and I don’t like it. I especially don’t like it when the poke comes from a stranger who isn’t wearing a shirt in his Facebook profile. I also don’t like emoticons, overly cute internet abbreviations, thumbs up, winky faces, inspirational messages with no context, links to Instagram videos, game invites, AI anything and friend requests from porn stars who don’t really want to go out for drinks with me. When it comes to Facebook, I’m the old man swilling beer on his porch and shooing kids from his yard.

Double dawg dare
I dare you to put your snow shovels and ice scrapers away. I mean, we’ve seen temps up in the 50s at this point, so isn’t it pretty much a sure thing that winter is over? Put ’em away, I say, and dig out your beach chairs and badminton nets. I did this very thing last March and . . . well, it was really great fun, and now it’s your turn. Do it! It will amuse me.

You were always on my mind
So, I was strutting down Middle Street in Lewiston the other day when I spied a pot store called Sinsemilla. My one and only thought upon spotting the business sign was: “Well, huh. THAT’S how you spell ‘sinsemilla.'” And with that, a question that had been lingering on my mind since eighth grade was answered at last. Now if someone can teach me to use a keg tap, I can finally close the books on that sordid age.

Ha!
As IF I don’t know how to use a keg tap. I learned that before I learned cursive, pretty much.