Category: Maine

Guy Ripped Off by Hooker, Files Complaint w/Cops!

Stories about hookers have long been a staple here at Dumbass News. Some our tawdry tales of tantalizing tarts even involve the police!

In keeping with our tradition of trashy trollops (OK enough with the alliteration), we once again present to you a story of prostitution. This time with a twist.

Bitch at the Beach 

It should come as no surprise that an ocean front town would be a likely locale for hookers. Old Orchard Beach, Maine (about 70 miles south of where I am sitting) is no exception. OOB is a touristy kind of town with people coming from all over Northern New England to enjoy the ocean and other seaside amenities. And by “seaside amenities” I of course mean whores.

Dumb Fuck

Take Scott Pipher for example.

Scott made it all the way to Old Orchard beach from Portsmouth, New Hampshire. After enjoying the brisk waters of the Gulf of Maine, Scott decided it was time for some of the seaside amenities he had heard of. So, he set out to find a hooker.

He found one.

10 Minutes Short 

Police say a man called them to complain a prostitute hadn’t given him his money’s worth – so they arrested him.
Police say New Hampshire resident Scott Pipher was arrested this week. The 34-year-old is charged with engaging a prostitute.
Old Orchard Beach, Maine, police say Pipher called them to complain a woman he’d hired “shorted him by 10 minutes.”
Police say their investigation also led to the arrests of two women believed to be prostitutes contacted by Pipher through a website.

Now I am not familiar with the unwritten Rules of Being a Slut, but being a man with an alphabet soup variety of mental illnesses, I do know that a visit to the Crazy People Doctor is supposed to be an hour long but is usually only about 45 minutes in length. Maybe similar rules apply to whores – you pay for an hour, you get 50 minutes. To put it into more of a hooker context, you pay for “around the world”, you get a “trip across town”.

I dunno.


I’ll go out on a limb here and suggest that even if you were “short changed” by a slut, calling the local  constabulary to file a complaint is probably not the best idea of the day. You’d have far better luck in lodging your gripe with the area Hookers Union. Or, possibly, a nice pimp will listen to your tale of woe and hunt the bitch down and express his extreme displeasure about the way she does bidness and encourage the young lady to make good on the 10 minutes or happily refund 1/6 of the price you paid the broad to contract a sexually transmitted disease from her in the first place. (Math Note: 10 minutes = 1/6 of an hour, thus the refund of 1/6 the agreed upon price) 

Then again, you could:

  • Accept the fact that you were ripped off by a whore, leave it at that and move on. Lesson learned.
  • Deal only with hookers who carry the union label.
  • Look in the Yellow Pages for prostitutes who are members in good standing (or laying as the case may be) of the Better Bidness Bureau.
  • Not spend your hard earned money to have sex with a crack ho.
  • Find a more reputable hooker.
  • Slap the monkey.
  • Find more wholesome “seaside amenities” to blow (pun intended) your cash on.


***Thanks to HuffPo & SeaCoastOnline***


Dumbass Sports: 2012 North American Wife Carrying Championships!

Spring has sprung, fall has fell and Maine has become boring as hell.

I made that up. Kind of. OK, I made up the “boring as hell” part. The rest of the saying, and I am big on sayings, was already there and I modified it. The original that I learned from my Uncle David Reed over 30 years ago goes like this: “Spring has spring, fall has fell, summer’s here and it’s hotter than usual”. I like my version better. It has more panache, which is a Fwench word meaning “it rhymes”.

It’s Wife Carrying Time!

Fall, therefore winter, comes to Maine quite a bit sooner than many locales around the country, and when it does, it throws us into an, “Oh, shit! What is there to do now?” mode. So we invent things. Like wife carrying for fame and fortune. And beer.

I’m not sure where or when this idea came into fruition, but I do know that I have written about it before and it was a huge hit with the Dumbass Horde.

Here’s a little background from my previous post:  The object of this dumbass “sport” is to navigate a 278 yard course lined with mud holes and all sorts of fun obstacles like that while carrying your dumbass wife on your back! What fun! The people who participate in dumbass wife carrying are deadly serious about it, why they’ve even got specialized ways for a man to carry his better half. From we learn : “Carrying methods include traditional piggyback, the fireman’s carry or something called the “Estonian carry,” said Paula Wheeler, director of development for the Mahoosuc Arts Council, the event’s sponsor.” The “Estonian carry” sounds particularly menacing (or pornographic, I ain’t sure which). The best thing about this event, besides the certain hilarity that ensues, is what the winner receives as a prize. I.Am.Not.Making.This.Up. His wife’s weight in beer! There is a God! 

Repeat, Repeat Winners

For the record, we are dealing with the North American Wife Carrying Championships here, not the World Championships. The North American version of this spectacle took place over the weekend Newly, Maine at Sundat River ski resort. The snow has fallen yet, so this is how they fill in the off season at SR. It make s a lot of money, too.

And they’re off!

WCSH,Channel 6 fills us in on this year’s competition: It’s an annual event at Sunday River – site of the North American Championships.

This year’s winners were Taisto Miettinen and Kristiina Haapanen from Finland; the two have won the world championships for the past four years and say there is a strategy to every course.
With a winning time of 52.58 seconds, the victors win Kristiina’s weight in beer, and five times her weight in cash.
Barely half a second behind them was the second place couple: Jesse Wall and Christine Arsenault from South Paris.

As you can see, Americans are lacking in their wife carrying skillz and the Commies from Finland and Estonia, the only countries to win the Worlds, continue to dominate this event on Merkin soil. It’s a disgrace to decent wife-carrying men all over this great land. Although the second place couple does hail from South Paris, Maine. Not South Paris, Fwance as you might think.

What Can Americans Do?

I think we should have gubmint subsidies for wife carrying just like we do for ethanol and other useless bullshit. With these gubmint funds, the United States of America could train wife-carriers from all 50 states with the latest techniques and technology. Kinda like the Olympics. A few million here and a few million there will put American wife-carriers back at their rightful and God-given spot on top of the World Wife Carrying Rankings. Just think of the pride we as Merkins could take in these fine young people representing their country at future World Wife Carrying Championship events! USA! USA! USA!

I, therefore, humbly submit this petiton to our Congressdumbasses in Washington, DC that they actually do something useful and right by their constituents and Americans all over the land, by throwing tax payer money hand over wife for this truly patriotic cause.

I beseech you, fellow Dumbasses, to call, write, email and otherwise threaten bodily harm to your duly elected Dumbasses in the United States Senate and the US House of Representatives to pass appropriate legislation to achieve this worthy goal.

To do less would be unAmerican.


"Drug Cartel Agents" Chase Dumbass into House; He Calls 9-1-1 on Himself!

I hope and trust that you Dumbasses had an outstanding 4th of July Week like we did here at the Dumbass Dome.

One of the Independence Day activities that stands out in my mind is the local 4th of July fireworks display, as it should be. The display took place smack dab on the banks of the beautiful Kennebec River meandering along side downtown Augusta. But this particular explosives extravaganza hit a little close to home. And by “close to home” I mean we were so near to the action that the shrapnel from the expended fireworks rained down on us all during the damn thing. A couple of people seated near us were nearly turned into Crispy Critters by falling fireworks residue – that was still on fire as it floated down to the ground. I ain’t kiddin’. Some of the pyrotechnics didn’t quite become extinguished as they fell to Earth and actually landed on people in the gathered mass of local Dumbasses.

Luckily, no one was injured with the possible exception of the one guy who ran like a scalded dog directly into the Kennebec River screeching at the top of his incinerated lungs something about “my fucking balls are on fire!” The local Fire Marshall had no comment.

Target of Drug Cartel Agents?

Patriotic Burglar 

One thing I really admire about Mainers is their dedication to and pride in the United States. This is evidenced not only by the hundreds of 4th of July parades and fireworks shows held all over the state, even in the tiniest of towns each year, but also by the fact that the State of Maine has a higher percentage of Veterans and currently-serving military personnel when compared to the population as a whole, than any other state in the country. Why even the crooks up here are very patriotic, if not Dumbasses.

For example…

Marcus McCall of Bangor was doing his patriotic duty as a Dumbass Criminal when he broke into a house whose residents were celebrating Independence Day in a more conventional way. Well, Marcus wasn’t exactly being a good citizen by doing a little breaking and entering on the 4th, he was in reality escaping the Ginsu-like canines of pursuing canines. So he thought. Or said.

Once safely ensconced inside the home, separated from the snarling beasts hot on his heels, Marcus called 9 1 1 on himself! I pulled this text from the Bangor Daily News article that will enlighten us all, I’m sure, “Officers Josh Kuhn and John Robinson responded to the residence and spoke to McCall, who was cooperative, according to Edwards. McCall told Kuhn and Robinson that he believed drug cartel agents were trying to kill him and were using dogs to track him as he ran through the woods alongside the Kenduskeag Stream, the sergeant said.
The officers found a smashed window in the house, but nothing had been taken, Edwards said.
Police could not confirm McCall’s claims and arrested him.” (emphasis mine)

Could Not Confirm?

What the hell?! Maybe because the only “drug cartel agents” in Bangor, Maine are a few guys with names like “Lefty” and “Vic” who are “business associates” of their own Fearless Leader – Frankie Belavacqua, the Beast of Bangor.  I mean, c’mon! “Drug cartel agents” wasn’t a teensy weensy hint that Marcus McCall just might be a bit, shall we say, disturbed? No, we shall not. We shall say, “fucked up”.

I am not privvy to the inner workings of your average vicious killer drug cartel organization, but I have been to East Dallas many times and know some vatos who know some vatos, if you know what I mean and I think you do. It is this intimate knowledge of the barrio upon which I form my Considered Fearless Leader of the Dumbass Horde Opinion. My CFLOTDHO is that if it were actual drug cartel guys chasing after Marcus that the chase would be very short and Marcus would have been fitted very quickly with the latest in Manly Cement Shoe Footwear and summarily tossed into the Penobscot River. Or he could have been shot so full of holes that the Penobscot County Coroner would have been required to use a tea strainer just to get Marcus’ fingerprints.

But all that is mere speculation on my part.

Bottom Line 

Marcus is in the slammer and the Drug Cartel Agents of Bangor, Maine are once again free to terrorize the at-large population of the Queen City as they see fit. Life is back to normal in Bang-ah.

That is if the cops in Bangor can “confirm” that there are indeed “Drug Cartel Agents” in their fair city at all.

Or do I need to take these goofballs on a trip to East Dallas to meet some vatos who know some vatos?

I’ll have to confirm that.


Dumbass Wife-Carrying Could Win Your Weight in Beer!

Ever Heard of Beano?

I am sick. Very sick. But you already knew that and besides, I don’t mean sick in that way. I have The Crud. I feel like shit. So for today’s Dumbass News you get a rerun. This was the third (I think) post I ever wrote for what is now, no doubt, the most far-reaching, socially relevant and influential instrument of Dumbassery in the Known Universe, Dumbass News. 

This has become somewhat of a pet cause of mine over the last couple of years and I haven’t re-posted it in quite a while, so here ya go.

The North American Wife Carrying Championships!
There are few things in this world that come anywhere near leaving me speechless. What I am about to describe to you damn near did it. Human beings,  by their Latin name known as dumbassus erectus, will do almost anything for amusement and/or competition. There are such events as the Calaveras (CA) County Fair and Jumping Frog Jubilee, Watermelon Thump in Luling, Texas, where the biggest attraction is the watermelon seed spitting contest and 35,000 dumbasses people attend each year, and here’s a new one to me that recently took place right here in Maine – The North American Wife Carrying Championships!  I mean, we don’t get the Olympics, NASCAR, NFL, Major League Baseball and whatnot, but we do make a sport of wife carrying! Just imagine the fun and companionship to be had by dumbass couples from all around the country.

  • Dumbass Wife to Dumbass husband : “Honey, I have just the thing that could save our marriage.” 
  • Dumbass Husband : “And that would be what?”
  • Dumbass Wife : “You could carry me!”
  • Dumbass Husband : “I’ve been doing that for the last 25 years.”
  • Dumbass Wife : “No,dear. I mean you could carry me in the North American Wife Carrying Championships!”
  • Dumbass Husband : “You do love me! Our marriage is saved!

 The object of this dumbass “sport” is to navigate a 278 yard course lined with mud holes and all sorts of fun obstacles like that while carrying your dumbass wife on your back! What fun! The people who participate in dumbass wife carrying are deadly serious about it, why they’ve even got specialized ways for a man to carry his better half. From we learn : “Carrying methods include traditional piggyback, the fireman’s carry or something called the “Estonian carry,” said Paula Wheeler, director of development for the Mahoosuc Arts Council, the event’s sponsor.” The “Estonian carry” sounds particularly menacing (or pornographic, I ain’t sure which). The best thing about this event, besides the certain hilarity that ensues, is what the winner receives as a prize. I.Am.Not.Making.This.Up. His wife’s weight in beer! There is a God! It turns out that the dumbass husband totin’ around his dumbass wife becomes a dumbass drunk! You now understand what people who live in a place like Maine, where there are about 8 months winter, do during those long cold times. They make up dumbass stuff like wife carrying! And curling, but that’s another story for another day. If every married couple in the United States took part in wife carrying, the divorce rate would plummet.The alcoholism rate among married men would skyrocket (see prize for winners), but those men would be happily married drunks. In my view, it all evens out. 🙂 For those of you who are considering wife carrying as a marriage-enhancing tool, I’ll leave you with info on the 2011 World Wife Carrying Championships to be held in Finland. I almost forgot that there is a division in this dumbass competition for women who want to carry their husbands! Equal opportunity, you gotta love it. I am curious here, what is the wife’s prize if she wins? Her husband’s weight in bon bons?


I’ll cover this event again this fall when the North American Wife Carrying Championships return to Maine! And you people thought we had nothing worthwhile to do up here. 


Frozen Gazebos and Breaking & Entering for Breakfast

             ******WARNING! NSFW IMAGE BELOW******

Here’s a re-post from April 4, 2011. I’ll try to post a new story later today. 

Fearless Leader of the Dumbass Horde

I mentioned a few minutes ago in a Facebook comment that here it is April 4 and it’s snowing here in Augusta, Maine. Too much snow does weird things to people. An example of that can be found in our story today. Our tale takes place in Bangor, about 75 miles from my house.

The Bangor PD was called to an unusual situation where “a man or woman wearing short-shorts and no jacket running in and out of the snow.” We call that a dumbass where I come from, but I digress. The cops got to the scene of the crime and promptly encountered the owner of a local cafe. The cafe owner said that apparently someone had broken into to his eatery through a side door to the kitchen area. Windows on the kitchen door were smashed and a shovel was found nearby, apparently used to break the windows on the door. Police, exercising due caution, entered the cafe  where they found Daniel Watson, 30, of Bangor in the dining room area.“He definitely had a shirt, a fleece vest and socks on,” but no pants, underwear or shoes — despite the subzero temperatures, Sewall said. Watson’s arms and legs were covered with cuts, police said Friday night.” I guess the burglar thought it was “half off day”. Tee hee. I made a funny.

The good guys arrested the dumbass and the made the Police Statement of the Year (So Far), the suspect was confused and incoherent and that “it certainly appeared” he was under the influence. It certainly appeared that this half naked dumbass was “under the influence”? Again, referring to where I come from, we call that fucked up. And dumbass. In my home state of Texas, we don’t break into closed cafes to get something to eat when we are drunk. We go to Denny’s, eat like an NFL defensive lineman then walk the ticket. No shovel needed. The dumbass drunks up here ain’t got no class. 

The dumbass was taken to the Penebscot County Jail where he was booked then released the next morning. This is the part of the story where can insert any joke referring to a nekkid guy in a cafe. What was he eating when he got busted? A shortstack. A small hot dog. Short ribs. Now for the gratuitous nekkid guy goes to court jokes. Will the evidence stand up in court or will there be a lack of evidence? OK, I’ll stop now, but feel free to leave your nekkid guy jokes in the comments. And if you have a personal “I was nekkid in a cafe once…” story, share it with us. 

A Dumbass Wife’s Birthday!

Heather in 64 Years

First of all, let me apologize to you for the late post. I have been doing stuff that this time of year. You know what I mean, I started drinking again. Heavily. Thanks to my Dumbass Wife. Here’s the down low.

The Down Low

As I said, I accompanied my wife shopping today. All. Day. Long. The women reading this will say, “You deserve it, you son of a motherless goat”. And that’s one of the nicer things they say. The men are thinking, “You poor sumbitch, you should have stayed single.” Then they drink heavily thinking of the day that they too will be in my position….married. With young children (4 & 9; both girls). And like me, 55 years old. Now who’s the poor sumbitch boys? You have all this to look forward too. Poor sumbitches. bwahahaha!

The Real Reason for This Post

Today is my wife’s birthday. She is 36 years old, 19 years younger than me. Even though I’m so much older than she is, she’s too old for me. I’d rather have two eighteen year old Swedish Bikini Team Members as “wives”. Preferably lesbians. After all, 18 + 18= 36. And the lesbian part is a YouTube sensation waiting to happen. So the shit works out right.

On the real side though, my wife is a good woman, a great wife and Mother, outstanding cook and she’s the shiznit in the sack. But I just can’t get over that Swedish Bikini Team thing up there ^^^^^. But, I digress. In spite of all these outstanding qualities my wife, Heather, possesses, God bless her, she ain’t the biggest catfish on the trot line, IYKWIMAITYD. (Yankees and Californians may want to Google the term “trot line”. No, it’s not pornographic you fucking asswipes.)

Here’s an example of how, shall we say, slow my wife is. No, let’s not say “slow”, let’s say “dumbass”. One time I told her that I wanted to watch Monday Night Football. She asked me what night it was on! See? Then there was the time several years ago that I needed to get hammered. She brought me a ball peen jobby. Even though Heather is a dumbass, she has put up with me for the last seven years, which further proves my point! If the poor woman had dynamite for brains, she couldn’t blow her nose. Capice?

On the Real Side

I love Heather very much. She’s stood by me when I thought even God had had enough of me. And believe you me, that’s quite a job right there. She has given me two beautiful, smart, healthy little girls. She has, over the last seven years has filled a void in my life and a hole in my heart that I never expected to be filled. She has loved me when I didn’t come close to deserving it more times than I can count. In spite of the fact that I am 2000 miles from my beloved Texas, Maine is now my home and I’ll probably spend the rest of my life here. And I shall do so without reservation. The reason for that is simple. Her name is Heather. Without her I wouldn’t be the Dumbass I am today. I love you Heather. Happy birthday.

Dumbass. 🙂

Science, Hot Rod HoverRounds and Gubmint Checks for Dead People!

Kids Playing in October (!) Snow

Here it is the day before Halloween and we are still under a Winter Storm Warning until this afternoon. We got plenty of snow overnight but the ground was still fairly warm so the snow didn’t stick for several hours when things finally cooled down. I measured the amount of snow on the ground this morning using a highly scientific method called “My Index Finger”.  This is an incredibly accurate mathematical method of measurement using units called “knuckles”. The results of this experiment revealed that we had about 4 inches on the ground and my guess is about 7 or 8 inches total. As I mentioned yesterday in this vomit inducing drivel literary masterpiece, the historical average first snow date in Augusta, Maine is November 17. Why do I feel like this little storm is an omen of things to come? Oh, yeah. I live in New England and it snows like a two-peckered billy goat pissin’ on a flat rock every winter.

It’s Sunday, therefore it’s time to uncover some of those Dumbass Gems from the archives. Since we are picking up new readers at an alarming amazing rate, chances are that many of you have not had to chance to read some of the older posts on Dumbass News. Then again, it could be that you just don’t give a shit about the older stuff. I shall, however, regale you with the type of articles that, thankfully, are not found anywhere else on the whole, entire internet. Besides, after reading these ‘Golden Oldies”, you’ll want to get as drunk and/or stoned as you can and use a generous portion of Brain Bleach to erase any memory of the horror you just experienced. But, hey, life is punctuated by events that shape us into what we are today – a sad bunch of pathetic dumbasses.

Golden Oldies

  • Hot Rod Mobility Scooters Run Wild! – I wrote this story on Halloween Day, 2010 and it is still being sought out by dumbasses worldwide. These scooters could be the Next Big Thing in motorsports, crushing all other racing organizations in its wake. No more NASCAR. No more NHRA. No more slot cars!
  • Dead People Get Gubmint Checks! – I have been fighting the United States Gubmint for my own damned money for about a year and a half down. They have been, up to this point in time, shall we say, non responsive. No, let’s don’t say non responsive, let’s say they have been fucking me over. While researchinhis article, I found a sure fire way to get my money from the Gubmint. All I have to do is DIE! Well, that’s certainly simple enough, but I’d really like to see my 9 and 4 year old daughters grow into women before that happens. But, a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. 
  • San Francisco is Full of McDumbassesIt’s San Francissy. Need I say more?

Week (insert number here) of the 2011 NFL Season is about to begin, so do whatever it is that you do during football games. Like learning the “My Index Finger” method of measuring for first downs.