Move over, Don Imus.

In case you missed it, Tacoma Mayor Bill Baarsma really did say “beeyotch” in a radio promo for today’s KMTT-FM “Free Latte Friday” deal at a local coffee shop.

One of our crack “Inside the Editorial Page” bloggers reports that the station’s morning DJ told Baarsma that it meant something like “in your face.”

But in fact every schoolchild knows it’s the same as “beezy,” or for you oldsters, the word that Bar Bush once used to slap down Geraldine Ferraro – euphemistically, of course.

It’s hard to say which of the nerdy aspects of this story are the nerdiest:

 • Baarsma, who could’ve been trying out for the role of Vanilla Ice’s grandpa.

 • Our blogger’s use of the term “brio” in describing that certain something missing in Baarsma’s pronunciation of the word in question.

 • That it happened on The Mountain – No. 1 on the radio presets of hybrid drivers across the region.

If your mother wore combat boots, what could be a more perfect gift a week from Sunday than her very own set of Mother’s Day armed forces license plates?

That’s the helpful suggestion offered by the state Department of Veterans Affairs, which gets a cut of the license fee to support vets programs.

“I can’t think of a more heartfelt way to thank a person for their love of family and country than by honoring them for both with an armed forces license plate,” department director John Lee said in a news release.

Not quite as safe as flowers and brunch, but probably a better bet than that cool table saw.

But then, Mom is so sweet, you’d never know if this one turned out to be a clunker.

Unless she makes you drop and give her 50.

Geography doesn’t appear to be Gen. Charles Campbell’s strong suit.

The big boss of the U.S. Army Forces Command was in town this week to see off the outgoing Fort Lewis commander. He thanked Lt. Gen. Jim Dubik and his wife, Sharon Basso, for their nearly three years of leadership … at Fort Hood.

Surely a slip of the tongue.

He also praised the region’s scenic beauty – Puget Sound to the west, the Cascades to the east, “and of course, to the north, we have Mount Rainier, the silent witness to almost nine decades of martial pageantry here at Fort Lewis.”

Now strictly speaking, the mountain is east-southeast of where the general stood as he gave his speech.

But you can give him a break: It’s probably been years since any Army four-star has managed his own land navigation – and they’ve got computers to do all that stuff nowadays, anyway.

When Mount Rainier tosses its cookies some day and the sirens start blaring (or not), the thing we’ll be running and screaming from is affectionately called a “lahar.”

Ask people in the little town of South Prairie, however, and they might say “tsunami.”

On Highway 162, just east of town, there’s a “tsunami evacuation route” sign posted where you might expect a lahar sign. Astute reader Bill Goodman sent us a photo this week.

So what if the town is more than 100 miles from the ocean? You never know when a rogue 100-foot tidal wave might wash in from South Prairie Creek.

Both types of signs are blue and sort of creepy. And either way, you need to boogie your behind to high ground, double quick.

Mayor Peggy Levesque said the sign has been there quite awhile. It seemed goofy at first but now just fades into the scenery.

“We have bigger problems here in South Prairie,” she said.

Amen, sister. Like how to escape when the asteroid crashes.