Maine: The Week in Review Blog Archive 2009
You can keep your hybrids, zero-emission vehicles and nuclear-powered flying cars equipped with laser weapons and force fields. Maine doesn’t need that kind of new-fangled technology, because we’ll soon be ending our dependence on foreign oil by converting every motor vehicle in the state to locally produced fuel.
(Please note: Laser weapons and force fields are currently unavailable as options on models powered by locally produced fuel.)
The state’s new tourism slogan was announced recently. I know you’re excited about that, so I won’t waste any time revealing the phrase that will replace such iconic mottos from past years as “It Must Be Maine,” “I Could Have Gone To Maine – Instead Of Going Crazy,” “See your Doctor If Side Effects Persist” and “Maine: Vowels Outnumber Consonants.”
Our state leaders were quite clear about what Mainers had to do to deal with the arrival of swine flu. Top health officials and the governor all advised preparing for the disease’s onslaught in the same way we’d get ready for a blizzard.
On Sunday, April 26, a snowman showed up at Hadlock Field in Portland.
Maine is in the middle of mating season for amphibians.
Wood frogs and spotted salamanders have been frequenting that topless coffee shop in Vassalboro, hoping to hook up with suitable mates. So far, the results have been kind of disappointing, at least from the frogs’ and salamanders’ points of view. The topless waitresses have displayed little enthusiasm for wallowing in icy vernal pools with cold-blooded paramours.
I could use a tank. Good traction in the winter. Gets to those hard-to-reach places during mud season. Frightens away pesky tourists in the summer. And if I want to go leaf-peeping in the fall, I won’t have to worry about being shot by hunters.
Also, having a tank in the front yard would be an excellent conversation starter with my neighbors.
Neighbor: “I see you have a tank.”
Me: “Surrender or die, you scum.”
Many years ago, during a crucial stage in my moral development, I figured out that if I were ever to decide to do something illegal, I would probably not call a press conference to announce it. And I also decided that once any such dastardly deed was completed, I almost certainly wouldn’t distribute video of my involvement in it to the media.
Each week, I summarize the latest economic news from Maine, and each week, I can hear my poor editor’s sigh of despair from clear across the state.
“Why can’t he ever find anything positive to write about,” she thinks. (That mind-reading course I took is really paying off. I get great quotes without bothering to conduct interviews – not to mention the lower phone bills.) “Surely he could find some numbers that went up this past week instead of down.”
It was 10 degrees outside when I took the dogs for a walk this morning. The wind was gusting up to 25 miles per hour. The front yard is still ice-covered, and what ground is exposed is frozen harder than an AIG executive’s heart. But my official Down East calendar says the vernal equinox occurred on March 20, heralding the arrival of spring.
The sun does has some heat to it. The snowbanks have shrunk a little. And they’re playing baseball in, of all places, Orono.
Vassalboro, the home of the Grand View Topless Coffee Shop, is trying to force women to cover up.
Pittsfield, the home of a project called “Bra Babes,” is trying to convince women to shed their garments for a good cause.
Somewhere in Maine, there must be a town advocating that women walk around with one breast covered and the other exposed.
Vassalboro’s town manager has drafted an ordinance banning nudity at local businesses.