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Thursday, December 18, 2014

My Interview in Hovels and Shovels Magazine

Knowing that my regular readers are curious about my current circumstances, and probably eager to finally get a glimpse of ol' Sippican, it occurred to me to save time for everyone by reprinting a copy of my recent interview in Hovels and Shovels magazine. The publisher has graciously agreed to let me reprint it here by not returning my emails, texts, phone calls, and one registered letter; and by turning off the lights when he saw me pull into his dooryard last night. 

A subscription to Hovels and Shovels comes free with every fill-up at the West Paris McDonald's recycled grease tractor-fuel depot, or you can find it at news stands everywhere in the New Sweden area. Besides this stunning 3 x 5 glossy print of me relaxing between tantric stump grinding sessions, there's a centerfold picture of June Lockhart in her Reynold's Wrap jumpsuit from Lost In Space in there, too. Hubba hubba. Enjoy:


Catching Up With Sippican: The Man, The Myth, The Man Some More

By: Edna St. Vincent Malaise
Photos by: Paco Manraybanne 

Hovels and Shovels: Thanks for taking time out from your grueling schedule to speak with us. We're curious. Why the compression bandage on your right knee?
Sippican: It's an old candlepin bowling injury. It acts up on me when I genuflect. It also signals the coming of winter and tax bills. 
H&S: Taxes and winter. Are those two things related somehow?
Sippican: Well, the tax bills last all year. Winter is only eleven months long, so I don't see the connection. 
H&S: I see. On to another topic, your neighbors say you're a very spiritual man. 
Sippican: It's a damn lie. I drink as much Allen's Coffee Brandy as the next fellow, but I haven't been up in front of a judge in almost a fortnight. 
H&S: I see. Do you have a favorite Allen's Coffee Brandy cocktail?
Sippican: Well, there's the Lewiston Martini. That's coffee brandy and milk. I'm partial to the Burnt Trailer, myself. 
H&S: What's that?
Sippican: Coffee brandy and Moxie. 
H&S: What's it taste like?
Sippican: I don't know. No one can ever remember. I imagine it tastes like a Welfare Mom. 
H&S: What's that?
Sippican: Coffee brandy and Diet Moxie. 
H&S: Let's move on. 
Sippican: Last time I was told to move on, I ended up in Maine.
H&S: Change the subject, I mean.
Sippican: You're the doctor. 
H&S: It's currently four below zero. You're wearing shorts.
Sippican: Yes, but not to worry; they're lined. 
H&S: With what?
Sippican: Me.
H&S: Is that an LL Bean hammock?
Sippican: Never heard of him.
H&S: You never heard of LL Bean?
Sippican: I don't care for your tone, young lady. Ask him if he's heard of me. If he says yes, you can call me a liar, but not before.
H&S: Are those tribal tattoos?
Sippican: I get that question a lot, especially when I'm being frisked. No, my mom used to buy all my clothes at Marden's, and I accidentally put on one of my shirts when it was still a little wet. It's been fourteen years, but it's starting to fade a bit, I think.
H&S: That's an interesting book you're reading. Translating the Word of God
Sippican: Well, I used to guest-post on God's blog, and I wanted to make sure this Beekman fellow didn't take any liberties.
H&S: God has a blog?
Sippican: Yeah, but it's on Weebly, so pretty much no one reads it.
H&S: What's on God's blog?
Sippican: Recipes, mostly. 
H&S: Thanks for taking time from your busy schedule to talk to us. 
Sippican: You got any jumper cables?      
  


9 comments:

Larry Geiger said...

What was that all about? I have no clue.

Sam L. said...

Question: Is Hovels And Shovels sold under the counter everywhere, but you only get a kickback from West Paris McDonald's?

julie said...

I thought the coffee brandy was Maine's version of vodka. In which case, you only need pants when the temperature drops to 10 below. I'm pretty sure that's right, I learned it on the Borderline Blog.

Thud said...

Perhaps its time to up the medication I know I am going to.

John the River said...

What's status of the woodpile report?
Is it true that the National Weather Service uses that report (of the number of cords of firewood Mainers put up to get through the winter) to predict the severity of the coming NE winter?

Such a program exists in the Pacific Northwest according to this story a friend of mine sent me:

Seems that a tribe of Indians living in the Northwest was concerned about the upcoming winter.

So one of the Indians called the National Weather Service said, “We’re worried that it might be a bad winter. What’s your forecast?”

The weather service meteorologist responded, “We predict a very cold winter.”

The Indian reported this to his tribe, which immediately started stockpiling firewood.

A couple weeks later, the Indian again called the weather service and asked, “Are you changing the forecast for this winter?”

The meteorologist answered, “We think it’s going to be a very harsh, cold winter.”

Again, the Indian reported this to his tribe, which, with even greater urgency, stocked even more firewood.

Even so, a few weeks later, no cold and no snow.

The Indian, wondering where all the snow was, yet again called the weather service and asked, “You keep saying it’s going to be a bad winter. What makes you think it’s going to be so cold?”

The forecaster replied, “I don’t know. But the Indians have been stockpiling firewood like crazy.”

Sixty Grit said...

Mmm, Moxie...

Leslie said...

Man, some more!

Casey Klahn said...

I knew that was you!

When I go to Maine next winter, I'm going to order a Trailer Mom at the McDonalds. They do serve liquor at McDonalds in Maine, right?

This is fun.

chasmatic said...

I was out running errands, in the line at Walmart for meds. Behind me comes this guy, looked like he was on a Polack bowling team. Mid-forties, wouldn't know matching colors if it bit him in the butt.
"Whassatcha got?" He asks, pointing to the cafe curtain rod I'm holding.
I spoke not a word, showed him.
"Oh" he sez, "thought it was one a them canes. My buddy has one with four feet".
"Yes, when we get older we lose equilibrium." I said (my mistake).
"Oh" he sez, "I lost my equilibrium when I had that aneurism, back in '97."
"You're lucky to be alive" sez I.
"I dunno, I'm waiting for them to come get me. Y'know, go up into space".
"I'm five foot ten." I said with finality, "you won't need any money up there."
He nodded sagely and I saw behind his eyes he'll be chewing on that for a while.
The art of conversation, one of my strong suits.