There is no fool like an old fool.

Yeah, I did it. I finally got around to buying my very own pool cue. Am I good enough to deserve my own cue? Probably not, but I decided to treat myself to a present. I paid extra for the magic twinkle dust that will permit me to play like Willie Mosconi.

I’m looking forward to taking it out for a spin. Who knows? By next year I may even whip John Cox. The Wiseass Jooette will most certainly be toast.

After spending several hours listening to news and surfing the internet, I felt my head about to explode. To the extent I have any creativity left, the blood sport of politics and the mindlessness of the current regime has sapped it. Sooo, I figured, to hell with it, and I spent the evening playing billiards with the local gentlemen shooting pool with the guys.

Did wonders for my mind, my soul and my blood pressure.

I have about had it with the Occu-punks. I read about antics such as these and it makes my hair hurt. I wonder how long Mayor-For-Life Bloomberg is going to let this crap continue.

Here is a video about the history of the Albert Music Hall in New Jersey and what happens there every Saturday night.

Most folks (even Jersey natives) are surprised to learn that there is such a place in New Jersey. I was there (in the Pickin’ Shed) last night for about three and a half hours. Great stuff, right there, even if my fingers are a bit sore today.

I admit it. Until very recently I had no idea what a “down twinkle” is. Now I know.

Take a look at this Occu-jerk explaining and demonstrating the various signs used in their little community fetid shithole. He’s positively precious.

Dear Twinkles:

I’ve got a sign for you right here.

Click. (Do it. It’s only one sentence.)

The country is spinning out of control.

Today I drove my friend and bodyguard Ken (and his brand new titanium knee) to the doc’s. Afterward, we headed over to the local American Legion Post for some late lunch and an adult beverage or two. Upon leaving, I saw the truck pictured below. I really don’t know shit from Shinola about trucks. In fact, only last weekend, did I learn (from a South Carolinian) what an “F-150” is.

That said, this was a most impressive truck.

Ken said, “I don’t think that guy gets many tickets.” I do believe he’s right about that.

I have returned and pretty much recovered from the weekend festivities in Tennessee, which were mentioned in the previous post. I believe I have been attending this happening, hosted by Eric and his lovely and exceedingly tolerant wife, every year since 2005 (I had to miss it in 2009). Rather than do an extensive recap, I thought I would just jot down some snippets and let youse guys connect the dots. Ready? Here we go:

Moonshine-soaked maraschino cherries

Padron tequila

Chocolate alligator (a giftie from Elisson, who noted that I could symbolically take revenge on the horrid beasts by biting its head off)

Wood splitting (not by me; I am very fond of my fingers)

Big-ass fire in the fire pit outside

Eight ball

Trash talk

Christopher Walken imitations

Bob Dylan imitations

Arnold Schwarzenegger imitations

Quilting. No, really.

Epic billiards contest between Eric and Erica (a/k/a the “Wiseass Jooette”), in which Erica, with an impressive bank shot, recaptured her ring — the one that has been hanging in Eric’s garage since last year, as a result of a wee wager.

Beer

Take-out Mexican Food

1,680 round-trip miles (all with the Wiseass Jooette in the car – have moicey)

Civil war (and slightly post-civil war) clothing

Civil war weaponry

College football

Beer run

Ice run

One flat tire (Jerry)

Two cats

John Cox Artwork

Apricot Kugel (prepared by SWMBO)

Praline bacon (prepared by Elisson using a mini-blowtorch)

Denny and I (collectively, the “Elderly Brothers”) committing musical mayhem (We’re still gearing up for the Soft Food Tour)

Eric’s barbecued REE-yubs (with his homemade special sauce)

Photos, lots of photos (none by me)

Single malt scotches

Irish whiskey

Breakfast at the Tellico Junction Café (none of the coffee cups match) — one of my favorite places.

Biscuits and gravy

Bi-Lo Supermarket (pronounced BAH-lo)

Pumping my own gas, which is always an adventure (We don’t pump our own gas in Jersey)

Our Motto: “You can’t make this shit up.”

This year marked the first time that a portion of the craziness, including the aforementioned musical mayhem, was streamed live onto several blogs. I didn’t mind, seeing as how it is impossible for people watching on the computer to throw produce at us.

The Cast of Characters: Denny, Elisson and SWMBO, the Wiseass Jooette, Jerry, Boudicca, John Cox, Teresa, Big Stupid Tommy, K-nine, Rick, Georgia, Shadowscope, Rube, Anna, and, of course, our host and hostess, Eric and Mrs. SWG. (I don’t think I’ve forgotten anyone, but after one of these events, anything is possible.)

I’ll be away from the keyboard for a few days, as I am heading off to Tennessee to spend some time with fellow bloggers, former bloggers and blog readers — friends, all. There will be a bit of pool shooting, some guitar pickin’, lots of laughter and the imbibing of adult beverages.

Play nice while I’m away.