I’ve spent the evening on Life 101, and now I’m too fried to write anything.

You might want to frustrate the hell out of yourself amuse yourself with this.

Thanks to my friend and Usual Suspect, Jeff, da Chef a da Future

A new New Jersey Blog has caught my attention. This well-written, right-leaning blog, is a mere three weeks old, and the author already has taken on a clutch of significant political and social issues of national and statewide interest, including the calling out of Newark Mayor Sharpe James on the corruption that runs rampant in the City of Newark.

The author is a conservative black woman, which, of course, drives “progressives” absolutely crazy.

I would like to do what I can to kick-start Chanice’s blog, which I believe has all the right stuff to become a valuable addition to the Blogosphere. However, don’t take my word for it: Head over to New Jersey for Change and see for yourself.nn1

Anyone remember five-and-ten-cent stores? I do.

The first five-and-ten-cent store was built in 1879 by Franklin Woolworth (the items were actually priced and five and ten cents), and later he and his brother Charles established a retail empire of more than one thousand stores.

As a boy, no ten-cent bus ride into Newark was complete without spending at least a half hour in Woolworth’s 5 & 10 on Broad Street. My Granny used to refer to it (and those stores like it) as the “Five and Dime”. It seemed to me back then that there wasn’t anything a person could want that could not be bought in a 5 & 10. Woolworth’s even had a lunch counter that served good and affordable food.**

The “Five and Dime” sold hardware, kitchen and household things like potato mashers, clothespins, clothespin bags and the rope itself to fashion a clothesline and the clothesline pulleys, one of which would be mounted on the house near a window or porch and the other to a “clothesline pole”. One could buy laundry soap, starch, socks, underwear, and even some clothes at the 5 &10. Books and toys were also always for sale.

We even had a Woolworth’s (with a lunch counter) in the town where I now live, but it closed several years ago, to be replaced by a “Dollar Store”. Now we have no less than three “Dollar Stores” in town. A month or so ago, I finally got around to visiting the one that replaced Woolworth’s, thinking that it might be somewhat the same.

It wasn’t.

The merchandize seemed cheesy to me. These independently owned operations seem to be more like a final dumping ground for things manufacturers could not sell to the better-known chain stores. And, there was no lunch counter. I won’t be returning any time soon.

Of course, it is possible that the merchandize in Woolworth’s was cheesier than I remember, but I don’t think so. At least I don’t like to think so.

** It was a segregated lunch counter in a Woolworth store in Greensboro, North Carolina that was the site of the first Sit-In in 1960, which was followed by similar demonstrations across the country. I recall the Woolworth’s in Newark being picketed by people urging shoppers, “Don’t buy at Woolworth’s! Don’t support lunch counter segregation!” Clearly this was part of a larger effort to economically hurt the Woolworth company, because the lunch counter in the Woolworth’s in Newark was not segregated. This was a source of puzzlement for those shoppers who weren’t paying attention to the news.

Today my town had its annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade. It has been held in this town for the past few years, ever since the annual parade in Sharpe James’ Wonderland Newark could not attract a sufficient number of spectators or participants.

It is quite the event in town. A few saloons make a huge killing, including the one directly on the parade route, which removes all the barstools, tables and chairs so that it can pack more celebrants into the joint.

I am partly of Irish heritage, and I am a guy who enjoys a libation or two. However, as in past years, I took a pass on the parade and the post-parade revelry. As I mentioned in an e-mail exchange with a Jersey blogging colleen, I remain of the view that too many rank amateurs come out for events such as St. Pat’s Day parades and often things can get pretty messy. There’s nothing terribly Irish or festive about some guy named Angelo puking on the sidewalk.

So, tomorrow, we will head over to the Post where The Original Bill will have prepared a shitload of corned beef and cabbage. We will eat and drink with the Usual Suspects, which is to say — with “professionals”.

Imagine you’re on stage and some asshole heckler a patron of the establishment hollers, “You’re a shitty guitar player!”

It would be sweet to whip this out.

ViaThe Presurfer

Looks like the BlogSpot sites are cooked at the moment. Been there. Aggravating as hell.

I am sporting a case of brain-fry at the moment, so I thought I would pass along something that my friend Brian, the Air Force Vet, sent to me. I have no idea if it’s a true story (I couldn’t find it on Snopes), but even if isn’t true, it’s pretty funny. Here ’tis:

DEALING WITH TELEMARKETERS

The phone rang as I was sitting down to my evening meal, and as I answered it I was greeted with “Is this Karl Brummer”. Because that didn’t sound anything like my name, I asked who is calling. The telemarketer said he was with The Rubber Band Powered Freezer Company or something like that. Then I asked him if he knew Karl personally and why was he calling this number. I then said, off to the side, “get some pictures of the body at various angles and the blood smears”. I then turned back to the phone and advised the caller that he had entered a murder scene and must stay on the line, because we had already traced this call, and he would be receiving a summons to testify in this murder case.

I questioned the caller at great length as to his name, address, phone number at home, at work, who he worked for, how he knew the dead guy and could he prove where he had been about one hour before he made this call. The telemarketer was getting very concerned and his answers were given in a shaky voice. I then told him we had located his position and the police were entering the building to take him into custody. At that point I heard the phone fall and the scurrying of his running away.

My wife asked me as I returned to our table why I had tears streaming down my face and so help me, I couldn’t tell her for about fifteen minutes. My meal was cold, but it was the best meal in a long, long time.

PRS operatives have scored another big one. They managed to gain access to Senator Ted Kennedy’s answering machine, which is located in the residence he occupies while in Washington doing the bidding of the citizens of Massachusetts.

Here is a sample of what we found:

BEEEEEP
“Senator Kennedy, this is Sheriff Bodine Claxon down here in Sticksville, Georgia. Remember that speeding ticket you got here a while back? You never showed up for your court appearance, and the $500 check you sent here to pay the fine bounced like one of them brand new pink sponge balls. Judge Belford, my brother-in-law, was sorely pissed and he issued a bench warrant for your arrest. Just wanted to let you know that if you happen to be traveling in Georgia, you better pack a toothbrush and a jar of Vaseline, because, like Judge Belford said to me the other night at the Lodge, ‘Sticksville ain’t Edgartown.’ Have a nice day.”
click

BEEEEEP
“This is Blaze. You wanted me to do what? You a damned pig! I jus’ wanted to let you know that I don’t play that bathroom shit, and you can take yo money and shove it way up yo big, fat white ass. You a fat-assed pig! Damn!”
click

BEEEEEP
“Senator Ken…. Ooops, I mean, ‘T-435’, this is Madam Ruthie of the Eros Emporium. I know that the last time you were here you said that on your next visit you wanted to give Blaze a try, and that you had some ‘special activities’ in mind. I’m sorry but Blaze will not be available that evening. However, I do have a wonderful new girl who I am certain can accommodate your specific wishes. She calls herself Hillary. She told me that she took that name, because, like the real Hillary, she will do anything. I think you will be very pleased.”
click

BEEEEEP
“Good evening. This is Sam from Stedman’s Medical and Surgical Supplies. We received your order for the adult diapers, but I’m afraid that no one makes an adult diaper to fit a 65-inch waist. If you drop by the store, someone on the staff can show you how to tape two XXXL diapers together, and that may work. I’m not sure, but it’s worth a try. If that doesn’t do the trick, you may have to consider using a twin-size bed sheet, in which case you’ll need to order the extra large pins.”
click

BEEEEEP
“Yo, asshole. This is Alphonse Alito. I just got outta Lewisburg. You worked my cousin Sam over pretty good, you punk-ass piece of shit. Just remember, payback is a bitch. Oh, and Sam doesn’t know about this call, and you would be wise – very wise – not to mention it to him. That could cost you the other knee. Know what I’m sayin’ asshole?”
click

I suspect that New Jersey Bloggers will have a good deal to say about this stupid bill that was sponsored by Republican Assemblyman Peter Biondi of Somerset County, New Jersey.

The bill, among other things, would require an “operator of an interactive computer service [a blogger] ” to “establish, maintain and enforce a policy to require any information content provider [a commenter] who posts written messages [comments] on a public forum website [a blog] either to be identified by a legal name and address, or to register a legal name [i.e. the commenter’s name and, presumably, a mailing address]”

The statute further requires that bloggers “establish and maintain reasonable procedures to enable any person to request and obtain disclosure of the legal name and address of an information content provider who posts false or defamatory information about the person on a public forum website”. This would require bloggers to see that ANYONE who feels that he or she was defamed in a comment to be able to obtain from the blogger the name and address of the commenter who made what that person believes to have been a defamatory statement. All they have to do is ask.

Finally, a blogger who fails to establish and maintain such procedures (i.e. procedures for maintaining the names and addresses of all commenters) can be sued to for compensatory and punitive damages (big bucks) by anyone who is damaged by a defamatory remark posted by a commenter.

Anyone who has even a passing familiarity with the Internet and the blogosphere realizes what a ridiculous bill this is. More subtle, but still quite clear, are the potential First Amendment issues lurking in this stupid bill, which would: (a) hold bloggers responsible for failing to require each commenter to provide a “legal name and legal address” if one such commenter makes a comment that turns out to be defamatory, and (b) discourage legitimate commenters (i.e. those not intending to defame anyone) from leaving comments.

Notably, but not surprisingly, the bill does not address the numerous reasons why many, if not all, legitimate commenters would reasonably be hesitant to toss his or her name and address into cyberspace. (Yo, Assamblyman … Identity Theft? Have you heard about it? It’s in all the papers.)

New Jersey is going to Hell in a hand basket, and we have an Assemblyman writing a bill dealing with the Internet, when, considering the ham-handedness of this bill, he should consider writing buggy whip legislation.

This bill is going nowhere.

The Jersey Side and The Wrightwing have more.

Thanks to Committees of Correspondence for the Heads Up.

My buddy Dax is in the process of moving, and his computer is one of the many things in one of many unpacked boxes. I managed to score a set of keys to his place, so I’ll be spewing forth from time to time over at The Dax Files.

Unlike Eric, Velociman, Elisson and Yabu who are invited guests, I snuck in. I figure I’m cool, because even though Dax is a big fella who looks like he could do some serious damage to an intrude, I don’t think he’ll beat hell out of an old guy. I hope not, anyway.

Besides, I can always sue his ass.