Enlighten New Jersey calls our attention to the financial mismanagement that runs rampant in this state, which, according to our Governor (the gentleman who replaced Jim McGreevey – You remember Jim McGreevey – It was in all the papers), the state is teetering on bankruptcy. Take, for example, the City of Newark’s having spent $1,748,040 for ten garbage trucks. And, where did the City of Newark get the money to pay for the garbage trucks? Why, from Homeland Security Funds, of course. The use of Homeland Security Funds for this purpose occurred at the same time that Newark is considering spending $210 million on a hockey arena. You can’t make this shit up.

Of course, one of the reasons that the state is in such dire financial straits is its massive expenditures on public sector employees. Enlighten New Jersey points to SmadaNek, which analyzed the growth of public sector employment as a function of increases in population.

The figures reveal that, nationally, the country added one public sector employee for every 25 new Americans. The states bordering on New Jersey added only one public sector employee for every 235 of their new residents. Now, hang on to your hat. New Jersey added one new public sector employee for every six new residents. Tell me that doesn’t make you want to barf. At least 1,000 of these positions are patronage jobs handed out by Jim McGreevey and his democrat buddies to the tune of $50 million, and, according to Republican candidate for Governor, John Murphy, none of these positions has been cut in order to meet the state’s financial shortfall.

The state is a national joke. We had a former Senator “decide not to run” because he was clearly up to his ass in corruption. He was replaced on the ballot at the last minute by the cadaverous and thoroughly contemptible, Frank Lautenberg, with the blessing of the New Jersey Supreme Court when it turned a blind eye to a violation of unambiguous election regulations. Our other Senator, the rich but ineffectual Jon Corzine, has decided that what he really wants to do is be the governor, and he has enlisted Cadaverous Frank as the Chairman of his campaign, effectively leaving New Jersey with no representation in the Senate between now and November.

Our former governor resigned in disgrace after numerous scandals, the topper being his appointment of his supremely unqualified boyfriend to be in charge of New Jersey’s Office of Homeland Security. Within the last few weeks, eleven politicians and government officials were arrested by the FBI for extortion and bribery, while the New Jersey Attorney General’s contribution to rectifying the state’s horrible mess was to swoop down on Blockbuster for deceptive advertising.

Despite all this, the majority of the voters continue to vote the same cruds into office, thereby proving beyond peradventure that it is possible to go through life with one’s head up one’s ass without suffocating.

I’d like to say a few words about Catfish, the person, not the aquatic scavenger.

I had the good fortune to have met Catfish last October at the Blogtoberfest. He showed up with Rob, his longtime friend, after some of the other attendees and I had already had a few “warmer-uppers” — for me, just enough to take the edge off the flight from Jersey and the ride from Atlanta to Helen, Georgia. I had been told that Catfish and Rob were on a mission to collect Mamamontezz at the airport (long story). When they showed up, I had recognized Rob from the pictures he has posted on his site in the past, but I had never met Catfish.

As I sat on the balcony of the motel drinking my bourbon on the rocks, the man who had been in the truck with Rob walked over to where I was sitting to grab a beer. He was a big man, heavily tattooed, and he was sporting a ponytail, jeans, and one of those chains that motorcycle badasses wear.

Not knowing whether to expect a grunt or a smack in the head, I extended my hand and said, “You must Catfish. I’m Jim from New Jersey.” Instead of getting smacked in the head, or hearing a grunt, i heard a beautiful Southern accented voice say, “Hi, Jim (pronounced JEEY-um). Glad to meet you.” It took all of ten seconds for me to decide, I like this guy. He is a gentleman. And, he has a voice that would make many radio people envious, with a Southern accent that completely takes the edge off “proper” English. I love to listen to him talk.

Catfish has a blog (set up by the gracious,wise, and talented Mamamontezz), in which he demonstrates the unique ability to write the way he speaks. His entries, like poetry, should be read aloud, and, if you’re lucky enough to have met him, you can hear him “speak” the entry.

Lately, he has been writing about Harris Neck, the county in Georgia where he has just moved into his newly completed home. Here is a sample:

Harris Neck has a great history, Sherman’s march on Georgia was here and back during WWII, the government took the land from these people and made a landing, runway for airplanes. After many a year, the land was given back to those landowners. It took a long time and two lawyers and a bunch of money, it was recovered by Bobby Hill, a big shot black lawyer and a politician, died of drugs a few years back. Harris Neck is 45 miles south of Savannah Ga. Great people and mostly rednecks, we should all fit in with these guys. They all love to shoot guns, drink, take dope, fish, hunt and raise a little hell, nice people. When I get it all finished, I want all of you to come and have a blast with us. I got a new hot tub, plenty of guns and ammo, food and booze.

Here’s more on the nearby “airport.”

Last night I was watching tv and I heard a small airplane fly over my house. About three miles from me is a gated subdivision, it has it’s own runway and landing strip, ex-pilots live in there. There is about 35 houses and all of them has a hanger next to their house. The houses are very big and looks like all of the people that lives there are very rich. The landing strip does not have lights, I heard that a lot of coke comes in there. Well, this plane last bight, flew over my house and landed down the road, I wonder if it was drugs? Who knows and who cares.

Finally, a bit more on Harris Neck County history:

This county is funny with some very colorful people that you will ever meet. We had a whore house here back in the 60’s and 70’s, it was a truck stop, that did not sell any gas or oil for cars and trucks. They sold beer and pussy. It was owned by the sheriff Tom… .

If you’re not reading Catfish, you ought to, and if you haven’t met Catfish, you should. He’s a helluva guy.

Still, I wouldn’t want to piss him off.