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Goat Boy and Shaggy, kittens and Olympians

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Look, I get it. It's getting to the point in the sports season that new stories aren't going to be the easiest thing to come by, so sometimes motivated writers and radio show hosts will put their hamster wheels to work and try to scare something up on their own.

But last week WEEI's Toucher & Rich impressed even this hardened skeptic with their ability to conjure something fresh out of a story that had runs its course months ago - Deflategate.

Remember Jim Breuer? Goat Boy on 'SNL'? Himself in 'Half-Baked'? Apparently, Breuer reached out to Toucher & Rich with a story about meeting John Jastremski, one of the key components of the whole scandal, while working out in the fitness center of a Mexican hotel.

Jastremski - who has talked less frequently than Leon in 'The Professional' - was feeling loquacious one morning during his CrossFit and decided that he needed to lay the whole thing on someone that someone being a C-list celebrity with a plus impression of Joe Pesci, apparently.

As if that wasn't hard enough to believe, please allow me the space for my second point: I don't care if he's really stoned all the time or not (media reports differ), but he looks like he is. That's a universally accepted automatic disqualifier and an immediate reason to discredit.

Case in point: if at the beginning of an episode of Scooby-Doo, Shaggy came up in between bites of his ten-layer sandwich and told the gang that the Shaman was very clearly a disgruntled local storyteller, what do you suppose happens next? Do you think Fred would throw the Mystery Machine into reverse and head back toward the next case? Or do you think he'd mistrust Norville Rogers/Jim Breuer (not to mention the dog he purports to talk to) and check things out for himself?

There's only one clear and correct answer and you know it. Two Scooby-Snacks for you, junior mystery solver.

So kudos, Toucher & Rich. For your sake, I hope Tommy Chong meets Jim McNally when he wanders into the wrong family reunion sometime early next week and they'll just hit it off from the start.

My kids went camping with their grandparents over the Memorial Day weekend and I missed them to the point that I wanted to do something clever to mess with them when they got back, like a good dad does. The idea I had (which was not endorsed by or supported in any way by my wife) was to go to the Bangor Humane Society and adopt a kitten. Then when my kids got home, I'd act like we'd had it for three months and how did they not notice it?

'You even named it Dinger, afterCorey Haim's character in Dream a Little Dream, don't you remember? He likes sleeping on your pillow and making muffins! Are you serious? You don't remember Dinger?'


Tie this to sports, you say?

(Editor's note: Please do.)

I feel that I'm qualified to pull something like this off only because I once convinced a kid in my dorm at UMaine that the resident director was a silver medalist in the rings for Haiti in the 1984 Olympic Games.

I got a myriad of other people involved over six or seven months and really weaved a terrific web of untruths that was always one step ahead of that poor idiot, who bought it hook, line, and sinker. And yes, he did find actual classes a bit too difficult and drop out, but hey, if you buy him a beer the next time he rents you shoes at the bowling alley he manages, he'll tell you about aguy he knew that had been in the Olympics.

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