It’s just about time to liquidate the holdings of a fraud

I am planning a fraud lawn sale. No, the lawn is not a fraud. I am.

The other day, Chief Al looked at the kayak, life vest, paddles and other gear strewn across the Cobb Manor lawn. “It looks like a Maine Guide lives here,” he said. ‘You should put out a sign. ‘Guide for hire.'”

The problem is, I never use any of it. I think the kayak has been in Lake Megunticook maybe three times. Once, I drove it all the way to the Canadian border, then drove it all the way back without launching it once. Thunderstorm warnings, you know? Plus it was chilly.

Fraud.

But I like to leave the kayak on the roof for days after I finally put it on the manly roof racks in the mighty Tundra. It may never see water, but it looks good when I drive to the post office for the morning mail or the Waterfront Restaurant for my afternoon Kendall Jackson.

That is just the tip of the fraud iceberg (fraudberg?).

There is a manly Old Town Canoe in the grass, with weeds growing through the thwarts. That hasn’t seen water in many, many summers. But it looks good, you know? The only time it is moved is to mow the damn grass. And you know that doesn’t happen too often.

The Cobb Manor barn is packed with more fraud items.

I have a $500 Trek bicycle which has been used maybe twice all summer. First it was too cold. Then it was too hot. Then there was too much traffic. Dangerous, you know?

If you look behind the Trek you will find an inflatable Zodiac, with a superb Honda 5-horse motor. I used to have a sailboat. Now I just have the Owls Head mooring, kept for old times’ sake, I would guess.

Farther on in the piles of accumulated flotsam and jetsam is a beautiful York Box, jammed full with camping gear complete with a tablecloth for those beastly campground tables. It has a Coleman stove, pots and pans, candles, you name it.

When we lost more and more gear on the camping trips, I figured the York box was a logical answer. Not only is the box watertight, but it floats. No more lost gear. Like it is ever going to see the banks of the St. John again.

Fraud.

The closest we got to camping this year was a plan to set up the (Bean’s) tent in the backyard as a sort of trial run. The tent still sits in the corner, close to the door. It hasn’t been set up in two years now. (I wonder if tents rust.)

I also have a knife and flashlight collection that rivals that of L.L. Bean. I think I am afraid of the dark and afraid of being somewhere in the wilderness without a knife to cut my fresh artichoke hearts. Knives and flashlights abound. The bad thing is I am always looking for more.

I have most of the Bean catalog around Cobb Manor. I have their shoes, their jackets, their boots, their winter gloves, even their paddles, their kayaks.

Fraud.

The only Bean item I use religiously is their miraculous solar-powered light-water lanterns. You leave them in the sun all day and they will provide you with illumination all night. Miraculous! No batteries!

I leave them on the deck as a sort of a poor man’s night light.

Fraud.

The latest plan is a massive lawn sale to clear out this active person’s gear while I return, undisturbed, to the couch.

Maybe I can make enough money to buy a recliner.

I can use one of those.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.