Yep, I had a Tennessee adventure this weekend at Eric’s place, along with a collection of fantastic bloggers and others (all of whom know what a blog is). And, I’m now sporting a Big Orange “T” on my guitar case to prove it.

Right now, I’ve got to go make the daily bread.

More later…

I will be away from the keyboard through Sunday. I’ll catch up with you either on Sunday night or on Monday.

Play nice.

As you know, the trial of Saddam Hussein recently began, only to be adjourned until late November. Following the court proceeding, Saddam was returned to his cell, where we learned that he received an interesting telephone call. Our PRS operatives managed to obtain a transcript of the telephone conversation.

RINNNNNNGG

Saddam: “Hello. This is Saddam Hussein, the President of Iraq speaking. Who is this?”

OJ: “Hey, Saddam. This is the Juice calling.”

Saddam: “Did you say the ‘Jews’ are calling? The President of Iraq does not speak with Jews.”

OJ: “No, not the ‘Jews’ – It’s the ‘Juice’ – You know, OJ? OJ Simpson?”

Saddam: “Hmmm. The name is familiar to me. … Yes, I remember you. You’re that black man who butchered his wife and that other guy – a Jew, as I recall. Damn, she was a real looker, but believe me. I understand how some women can really smash your testicles.”

OJ: “I think you mean, ‘break your balls’, and, besides, I didn’t do it.”

Saddam: “Ha! You didn’t do it? Do you take me for a buyer of a used camel? I watched it all on CNN. You killed those two as sure as Allah rules the universe.”

OJ: “Look, let’s just say that they’re both dead, and I have a nice house, plenty of money, all the women I want, and I play golf every day. Pretty sweet, wouldn’t you say?”

Saddam: “You’ve got a point there, but why are you calling me?”

OJ: “Man, I saw that your trial is getting started, and I figure I can give you some tips on how to beat this rap.”

Saddam: “I don’t need any help. This so-called court has no jurisdiction over me. I am the President of Iraq, and these American puppets can’t try me. This is nothing but an American, what do you call it? Orangutan Court?”

OJ: “I think you mean ‘Kangaroo Court,’ but you gotta stop that ‘I’m the President of Iraq’ shit, ‘cause it ain’t gonna work, at least not there.”

Saddam: “How dare you talk to me in such a manner. I will have your head for that!”

OJ: “Let’s cut the shit here, Saddam. You’re locked up, and several million people want your sorry ass executed. I was locked up too, you know, and damned near as many people wanted me juiced (no pun intended). And, like I said, I’m free and you’re not. I think you oughta listen to me.”

Saddam: “You do make a good point. I’m listening.”

OJ: “Good. By the way, are you eating something? I hear you chewing, and it’s a bit distracting.”

Saddam: “Prunes! I’m eating prunes. I asked for dates, but these pig Americans gave me prunes. I’m shitting like a sick camel. This is pure torture, I tell you. How dare these pigs treat the President of Iraq this way!”

OJ: “I thought we agreed that you were going can that “President of Iraq” bullshit.”

Saddam: “OK. I’m listening.”

OJ: “OK. Let’s get down to it. I think you might want to take notes. Do you have a pencil?”

Saddam: “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. These imperialistic dogs allow me to have one pencil! Imagine treating the President…”

OJ: “Hold it!”

Saddam: “Sorry. I’m listening, and I am ready to take notes.”

OJ: “Pay attention”

Number one: You should hire Johnny Cochran. … No, wait. He’s dead. Never mind. I’ll call Geraldo Rivera and get the name of that black guy who screamed every night that I was innocent. Don’t worry. The guy’s a genius.”

Saddam: “But, I have lawyers already.”

OJ: “Hey, do you want to win this thing, or do you want to argue with me?”

Saddam: “OK, so you’ll talk to the black lawwyer and get him to call me. What next?”

OJ: “Number two: Have your lawyer move this trial to California.”

Saddam: “Ah, California. I’ve heard great things about California. Many people like me there.”

OJ: “Once your case has been moved to California, have your lawyer try to get your case assigned to that Chinaman. … What was his name? … Oh, I remember. It was Judge Ito. Wait … ‘Ito’ – Maybe he isn’t a Chinaman after all. He may be a Jap. Whatever.”

Saddam: “A Chinaman? A Jap? I’m not liking the sound of this.”

OJ: “Dammit, Saddam!”

Saddam: “Sorry. Continue, please.”

OJ: “Number three: Try to get that black guy Chris Darden assigned to prosecute your case. Man, if he shows up, you’re golden. Hell, the day he did that glove thing with me, I knew I’d be playing golf in no time. Oh, and if that sexy Marcia Clark is still in the prosecutor’s office, try to get her assigned to your case. She was one fine looking piece of tail. I’ve called her a couple times from the golf course to try to get something going. You know what I’m saying? But, the bitch won’t return my calls.”

OJ: “Number four: You need an alibi. You’ve got to be ready to say you were somewhere else when those couple hundred thousand people were killed. I suggest that you say that you were chipping golf balls at the time. It worked for me.”

Saddam: “What does ‘chipping golf balls’ mean?”

OJ: “Details, Saddam. Just go with me on this for now.”

“Number five: You gotta blame someone else for killing all those people. By the way, is it true that you gassed an entire town?”

Saddam: “Well, I’ve been accused of that.”

OJ: “Excellent! Now you’re catching on.”

So, let me continue. You gotta blame someone else for killing all those people.”

Saddam: “But, Mr. OJ, It might be difficult to blame someone else. There are lots of pictures of me running the country and giving orders.”

OJ: “Pictures don’t mean shit, Saddam. You need to hire experts, man. They’ll say anything you want them to say, including saying that the pictures of you are all doctored.. Hell, I left my DNA all over the goddamned place and I got experts to say it didn’t mean shit.”

Saddam: “Well, who could I blame? I did run the country”

OJ: “That’s an easy one. You can blame your sons.”

Saddam: “Blame my sons? My dear sons? What kind of devil do you think I am?”

OJ: “Saddam, for Chrisssake. Stop with the Father-of-the-Year bullshit. Your sons are already freakin’ dead., so why not blame them? It makes perfect sense to me.”

Saddam: “This is sounding pretty good to me, Mr. OJ.”

OJ: ” Number six: “Set up a toll-free number so people call in and give you tips about who really killed those thousands of people.”

Saddam: “I don’t understand why I would do that. I killed …”

OJ: “Stop! Don’t say another word. The toll-free number worked for me. Remember, there are lots of real dumbshits in the United States. They’ll buy it.”

Saddam: “I’m liking what I am hearing, Mr. OJ. Is there anything else?”

OJ: “Yeah. Clothes. When you get to California, I’ll give you the number of my tailor. He’ll make you a first-class set of threads. You have to come to court stylin’ in a suit and tie. And, for God’s sake, don’t even think about wearing one of those damned towels on your head.”

Saddam: “Towel? How dare you cal the kaffiyeh a towel? I’ll have your head….”

Saddam: “OK. OK. Take it easy. I don’t care what you call the damned thing; just don’t wear it in the courtroom.”

Saddam: “Agreed. Is that all? The guards are watching me.”

OJ: “That ought to do it for now. Any questions?”

Saddam: “I do have one question. Why are you doing this for me? Is it because you hate the imperialist, infidel dogs who wanted you dead?”

OJ: “No, actually I was thinking that, once you’re free, we can make a shitload of money together. Hell, we could do a book and appear on Oprah. We could sell a line of clothing or men’s cologne or some shit. Know what I mean?”

Saddam: “I’m down with that, my black brother.”

OJ: “OK, man. Peace out.”

The City of Newark, a long-time Jersey political toilet, never ceases to amaze.

In an effort to improve its justifiably lousy unfortunate, negative image, the City Council of Newark recently approved a $100,000 no bid deal with a “newspaper,” entitled The Newark Weekly News to print “only good news” about the City Council and the City itself. Apparently, City officials will provide information to the “newspaper,” which will then use the information to create a “news” story.

I suppose that using tax dollars to fund a local or state public relations campaign (e.g. to promote tourism) is not unusual, but using tax dollars to pay for what a Rutgers Journalism Professor called “fake news” is quite another.

Perhaps most telling about the state of affairs in Newark is that the City Council made a deal with a “newspaper” with an editor who is apparently is confused by homophones. The headline story of two days ago dealt with the death of long-time Councilman Donald Tucker. The headline read:

NEWARK’S LOSS LEAVES GAPING POLITICAL WHOLE

I presume that a GAPING POLITICAL WHOLE is something different than a GAPING POLITICAL HALF.

Note: In the event that the “newspaper” has since corrected its headline, you can see a screenshot of the original, courtesy of John Shabel at The Jersey Side.

Just shy of a week ago, I found myself asking, “Would Codey be Doing Better?”

In that post, I questioned whether voting democrats regret their party’s leaders and bosses having nominated Jon Corzine as opposed to Dick Codey (the Acting Governor) for governor. I wondered whether Mr. Codey’s image of a real person would attract more independents and even Republicans than would Jon Corzine.

My then-rhetorical questions were the product of a morning walk, a time when there is no accounting for what may pop into my cruller. It can be anything from a raging river of thoughts to a sweat-soaked silence, punctuated only by the inner voice of my muse who taunts me from time to time about working conditions.

It turns out that, according to the New York Times, I was exactly right. The New York Times stated:

Numerous surveys indicate that Mr. Codey, a Democrat, is the most popular politician in the state. A New York Times Poll, conducted from Oct. 14 to Oct. 19, found that 61 percent of likely voters said they approved of Mr. Codey’s performance, and only 12 percent said that their opinion was “not favorable.” Among Republicans, 48 percent approved of the job he is doing.
The Times poll showed Mr. Corzine leading Mr. Forrester by 9 points, with some signs of the gap closing on the horizon. The poll had Mr. Codey leading Mr. Forrester by 19 points in a fantasy matchup that many voters said they wish were not a fantasy.

I suggested that New Jersey voters might consider Dick Codey to be a “real person.” The Times put it this way:

[Codey is] a man widely viewed as an antipolitician of sorts, a bona fide Jersey guy, complete with rumpled suits, comb-over and a spaghetti-and-meatballs belly.

Quoting a politico from Hudson County (where hardball politics is an art form), the Times noted:

”Codey has more knowledge, more vision and more charisma than either candidate,” said a former public official in Hudson County, who said he was worried about repercussions from Mr. Corzine if his name was used. “Would he have been a better governor than Corzine? Yes. Would he have made a stronger candidate? Yes.”

So, what does all this mean?

1. Corzine’s money talks when it comes to who gets the nod.

2. A few months ago, Codey was seen as a caretaker governor with no political oomph, while Corzine seemed like a sure shot. In politics, a few months can be a lifetime.

3. If, on election eve, it looks like it might be a toss-up, maybe the democrats will have Corzine bail and parachute in Codey. After all, they’ve done it before. Indeed they did it to Doug Forrester. UPDATE: Uh-oh!
4. You can’t make this shit up.

Boudicca of Boudicca’s Voice has posted a map that shows the location of many Florida bloggers as they brace for the arrival of hurricane Wilma. Ken, my friend and bodyguard has the better part of his family at or near what is expected to be the bullseye. I have my fingers crossed for all the folks in Florida this evening, as the storm makes its way to the state.

h/t The Laughing Wolf

The Nicest Guy in the Blogoshpere has upgraded this place to Movable Type v. 3.2. I have to spend a bit of time trying to figure out some of the new stuff, such as managing comment spam. So, if you see any glitches around here, that will most likely be the reason. And, if you find yourself unable to comment, please drop me an e-mail, and I’ll fix it, once I’m sure I know how to do that.

A huge thank you to my friend Craig.

I just hope I don’t smoke the entire farookin’ blog.

Two years ago I posted a hypothetical conversation in which a blogger tries to explain blogging to a non-blogger and, essentially, gets nowhere. Since that time, we have had the Dan Rather debacle, which acquainted news watchers with the terms blog and blogging.

While it is easy to find estimates of the number of blogs in the world, which run into the millions, we must occasionally remind ourselves that bloggers make up a miniscule portion of the population and that probably more that 99.9999% of the people in the world are not bloggers or even blog readers.

Nevertheless, the phenomenon continues to grow and, and has even developed its own jargon, which can fairly be called “Blogspeak.” Imagine, if you will, that you are a non-blogger, non-blog reading person listening in to the following live conversation between two bloggers (a blargument?), which could easily take place at a Blogmeet.

Blogger 1: “Hey, what the hell is going on with your blog?”

Blogger 2: “What do you mean?”

Blogger 1: “You de-linked me!”

Blogger 2: “Yeah, I did, and you deserved it.”

Blogger 1: “What are you talking about?”

Blogger 2: “Well, for openers, you leave trackbacks on my posts and you don’t link to the post where you left the trackback. And, how about the time you flamed me and didn’t link to me? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Blogger 1: “All I said in that post you’re talking about was that your posts have become little more than link-dumps, and, despite that, you remain a Large Mammal, while us Crawly Amphibians are trying to build traffic by posting content.”

Blogger 2: “Traffic? I’m surprised you even raise the subject, because you have Site Meter set to keep your stats secret. And, speaking of traffic, you seem to try to attract traffic to your blog by bloviating in off-topic comments on my blog and sucking up my bandwidth.”

Blogger 1: “Are you saying that I’m a troll?”

Blogger 2: “Damned straight I am. And furthermore, speaking of bandwidth, how about all those times you hot-linked my images?”

Blogger 1: “Well, if I’m that bad, why did you link to me in the first place?”

Blogger 2: “I saw that you blogrolled me, and I gave you a reciprolink. However, I’ve learned my lesson. You’re nothing but a link whore and a disgrace to the Sphere.”

Blogger 1: “Well, I’m going to return the favor and de-link you.”

Blogger 2: “Like I give a damn. You got no traffic to send. In fact, I’m going to Blacklist your shitty little BlogSnot site.”

Blogger 1: “Go ahead, because I’m going to ban you too.”

Blogger 2: “Friggin’ link whore! Troll!”

Blogger 1: “Goddamn blogsnob!”

Onlooker: ”Are these guys assholes, or what?”

Want one?

Check out The Presurfer for instructions.

Once in a while, you run across a quote that sings in unison with Life 101 at that very moment. I came across this one at Shamrocketship in a post wherein Lynne quotes an unnamed author:

“Writing is as easy as sitting at a typewriter and opening a vein.”

Farookin’ true, that.