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A Man Who Has Nothing In Particular To Recommend Him Discusses All Sorts of Subjects at Random as Though He Knew Everything

Great Moments in Maine Real Estate, Part the Second

Well, it’s time for a melange, a veritable cornucopia, borderline copious amounts of Great Moments in Maine Real Estate. A cornucopious melange, if you will.

Of course if you’re of a more staid personality, you can always go shopping for houses within a one-hour drive of Massachusetts, down York County way. You can find all the $750,000 houses you could desire, all identical. They’re big vinyl boxes stapled on the ass end of their garage, with gray floors, gray walls, gray counters, gray cabinets, and a Live Laugh Love sign over the sink, in light gray lettering. Well, they would have gray walls, if they had any interior walls. They generally don’t, anymore.

But we’re of a more adventurous sort, you and I. We want the real Maine. We want to venture forth, to where the trolley don’t go, and the sidewalks end, and the where the couches are outside the house. Well, here you go:

You better lift weights, pal. Because when that bear makes it all the way through the wall, you’re going to have the fight of your life on your hands. Bears can be ornery critters, and this one is probably still pretty angry about you building a wall around him. And I’m sure the fiberglass insulation in the wall is making his butt itch something awful. Don’t mess with an itchy bear, my grandpappy always used to say.

 

Hey, have you ever been to Newport, Rhode Island? It’s a great seaside resort town. All the robber barons used to “summer” there, and built big show houses that are museums now. You know you’re rich when you use “summer” as a verb. Anyway, one of them built a beautiful mansion on the ocean, and pretty much every surface in it was fashioned from marble or other sort of exotic stone.

I’m not sure, but I’m fairly certain that this is not a picture of that house. The single curlicue light bulb in the vanity mirror light fixture gave it away. The Vanderbilts were strictly incandescent folk.

 

Lots of talk in the news lately about UFOs. Not many people know what UFO stands for, I gather. It’s an acronym to denote a flying object that can’t be identified. This perfectly useful term for “I don’t know what that is” has completely morphed into, “I don’t know what that is, so it must be a unobtanium space cruiser filled with lizard men, looking to probe somebody.”

Look, you can get a reasonably priced colonoscopy at any of Maine’s fine local hospitals, and a free one at many highway rest areas on the Massachusetts turnpike, I hear, so there’s no need to look to the stars for one. Besides, you people have got the whole thing all wrong. You think the little green men from Alpho Cestawni evade detection with cloaking devices and spaceship hulls fashioned from pure energy or stealth titanium or something similar. You’re not thinking outside the box, the way aliens do, my friend. They escape detection from radar by building their space traveling surreys from pine boards. They land in the Maine woods all the time. Mainers aren’t that into being probed, but the little moonmen can always find a bear or something with his arse sticking out of the back of a home gym wall, and probe away.

Unlike other UFO devotees, my evidence is reproducible. Here’s another star ship that just landed. It has an escape pod attached to the back of it, with a chimney. That’s for the exhaust from the hyperdrive, I imagine. They burn coal, generally:

OK, gang, lets’ play The Floor Is Lava!

Some people remember the seventies as bell-bottom pants, turd curls on the girls, cocaine in the bathroom at the disco, and gas rationing. None of those horrors could compare with the selection of carpeting from that decade.

Honorable Mention: Vermont

Our friends from the Northeast Kingdom, as they style themselves, are no slouches when it comes to Great Moments in Real Estate. Ladies and germs, it’s my pleasure to present to you, The Steel Belted Living Room:

 

It’s your move, New Hampshire.

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