In this modern world where fake news is manufactured by Russian troglodytes to change the course of U.S. election, it is refreshing to discover some local fake news that is done for the innocent purpose of merely confusing people.

According to a more or less unimpeachable news source, a gentleman who lives in Rockland has begun producing something he calls New Maine News, where we can read all sorts of imaginative stuff, which some people will nevertheless insist on taking quite seriously.

The trouble with this sort of material is that the writers often use real-ish news items upon which to base their delicious fictions, thereby making it hard for the not-quite-alert reader to tell the difference.

For example, we have all heard how Amtrak is thinking of extending passenger rail service to Rockland, lately. I know; how many million times have we heard this all before, right? And yet this much is apparently factual.

Enter Seth Macy, who immediately produces a parody with the marvelous headline “Rockland to Boston Passenger Rail Could Cut Trip to As Little as 8-10 hours.” The story then goes on to explain how a railroad link to Boston would improve the kind of service currently available by steamship from Rockland, as though this were still 1917.

Eventually, I suppose, people might slowly realize that a joke is being perpetrated on them. But not everyone will get it, you can be sure.

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Back in the real world for a moment, it seems many people who work downtown are getting more and more miffed at the high speed that vehicles sometimes attain on Main Street after they have passed Limerock.

Have you had to leap back to the sidewalk in fear of life and limb, dear reader? If so, I am glad you made it.

One thing I will say on a related subject, is that it worries me how many of our city’s flashing crosswalk signs are set up to signal that it is safe to cross an intersection when it is not safe at all. Just because traffic will be stopped at one red light does not mean it will be stopped at the opposing green light.

The only way to make these intersections safe would be to stop traffic all four ways while pedestrians cross. Anything else is just an invitation to injury or death.

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Browsing idly across the Interworld the other day, I found a tale first printed in 2014 about a Massachusetts couple who changed their middle names to Seamonster. Their names are now Melanie Seamonster Convery and Neal Seamonster Coughlin. What would be the point of my making up something like that?

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Likewise, I found an ad on Craigslist for a small brown teapot that was used as a prop in the 1957 movie, “Peyton Place,” filmed largely in Camden. This thing, which has apparently been in storage since 1958, can be had for a mere $50 from its current owner, who lives in Hallowell.

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A piece on discusses the future of a young lad who lives in Friendship, a town said to be quite close by here, and discusses his hopes of one day becoming a lobsterman. I am told the article is quite pessimistic.

Earlier this week I saw an Associated Press story projecting a poor result for the Maine lobster industry this year, with the catch and the price both down somewhat.

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Mrs. B. showed me a vase of blue hydrangeas in her kitchen recently. Then she took one of the flowers from the vase and put it in a smaller vase on its own. Suddenly I realized (can you see it coming, oh wise reader?) that it was now The Lone Hydrangea.

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Saw my first frozen puddle on Saturday morning. Very chilly. Also, waves were pouring over the top of the breakwater, Monday lunchtime. Very windy and, once again, quite chilly. Especially up here in the concrete towers at the foot of Mechanic Street, where I am forced to live. Really, you’ve no idea.

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Very sorry to hear about that poor man who died while sleeping in a metal shipping container over at the city fish pier.

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What will we be officially thankful for, this year? Possibly the fact that Armageddon has not yet been poured out upon us from the skies? Maybe it will happen by Christmas, but I think we are likely to make it through this first holiday of fall more or less intact.

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Speaking of Thanksgiving, my dear friend Lord Prez Trumpleton tells me he plans to stuff the White House turkey with boiled golf balls this week, just to see which members of the Cabinet he can irritate most.

He certainly feels a bit irritated personally at the moment. The news is saying that room rates at 12 of his 13 Trumpleton hotels are falling, rather like lobster prices in Maine. According to a British news rag called The Telegraph, some of his room rates have fallen as much as 63 percent. And as if that were not bothersome enough, an American rag now has the gall to suggest he is not even half as rich as he says he is.

Honestly, I don’t know why the poor fellow puts up with all the aggravation. He is a saint.