Admit it. You don’t know any more words to “Auld Lang Syne” than you do to “Louie, Louie.” You hum-mumble the words to both songs. You don’t know jack about New Year’s Eve, either, even though you are still recovering from it.
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I know. You are already huddled by the wood stove, complaining about the snow and the cold. Plus that little problem about paying for those Christmas gifts you just had to buy.
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Midcoast residents with half a brain always depended on the luxury of the Samoset Resort in Rockport to get them through the long, cold winter. The Wednesday night Italian buffet for $10 was a cabin fever reliever, if you could stay away from those $9 glasses of wine.
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The thin blue line was thick and strong Tuesday at the Cornerstone Baptist Church in Camden. More than two dozen local, county and state police officers with area firefighters lined the church walls …
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I have done some shameful, shameful things. I once went to Yankee Stadium. I shoplifted jackknives from the local five-and-ten-cent store until they were forced to put them under lock and key. I …
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The year was 1869.
It was only four years since Abraham Lincoln's assassination. U.S. Grant was in Obama's house, The Suez Canal was opened and the Transcontinental Railroad was completed in Utah. …
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When I think of Blue Eyes and her birthday, I will think of Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg.
You have to understand that she is a pluperfect planner and organizer. She has organized my most …
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We all love to have the daylights scared out of us. Witness the meteoric sales of that sicko, Stephen King. You know you will sit there and watch “Nightmare on Elm Street” every time it is on, …
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Maybe it’s maturity raising its gray and wrinkled head. No. That couldn’t be it. Maybe it’s just fatigue and old age settling into the bones.
God, I hope not.
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Wall Street has become a zone of fascination at Cobb Manor, because I presume that somewhere within that $700 (or is it $900) billion taxpayer bailout, there will be enough crumbs to dissolve the …
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I don’t know what a “motherboard” is. But I know I need a new one.
For $300.
I know of no one more dependent on a computer than I am. My day starts at 7 a.m. with a review of the news …
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My new psychiatrist, Dr Jerald Block, seems to think I have a problem with addiction. He could be right.
After all, it starts at 6 a.m. and normally runs, intermittently, until 10 p.m. when The New York Times finally releases its daily crossword puzzle. It is the Internet.
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Despite my fading Irish charm, plus the accelerating aches and pains, there are some days that I feel pretty good about myself. Then I hear about somebody such as, say, Simon Spurr, and I realize what a pathetic charade I am living.
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Main and Limerock.
My friends are an undependable lot, prone to being fashionably late or, in the case of Jefferson Phil, not showing up at all. So I arrange to meet them, when I must, at bars and …
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Guilty as charged, your honor. I admit that I am an unabashed Kennedy supporter. Always was, always will be. I was getting all misty as Ted Kennedy addressed the Democratic convention this week, for the last time.
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When I become king, my first act will be to ban celebrity coverage, like "Entertainment Tonight" and the like. I don't care if Britney is wearing underpants and I don't want to see Brad and …
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