In between the ghastly havoc-wreakage that will take place over here in the next few days (don’t thank me, thank the State of Montana), I thought I’d try and re-ingratiate myself to our favorite vacationing Jersey Boy and publicly apologize to him for the previous post.

Just a reminder that Herr Jimbo is a veteran of the US Army and, were he not currently bleeding dry the Alligator Capital of the World’s booze supply, might have made mention that yesterday was Armed Forces Day.

While this year, Armed Forces Day was celebrated on the 19th of May, May 20th is when the first Armed Forces Day—not unlike Veteran’s Day or Memorial Day in nature—was celebrated, back in 1949, after it was created by President Truman as a way “for citizens to come together and thank our military members for their patriotic service in support of our country.”

Works for me.

Listen up, peeps…even though I’m a day late in mentioning it, there’s no excuse for not celebrating the members of our Armed Forces year ’round, so next time you see a veteran (hell—every time you see a veteran), remember to hug or kiss him or her, and thank them for having defended our most excellent country.

That is all.

Update!: This is definitely worth a read, a story about Lt. John Grant Rahilla, a 20 year-old Caldwell, New Jersey soldier who died fighting the Nazis in the Alsace region of France in December 1944.

Hello, friendly peeps and fans of our pal Jimbo. Guess what? I don’t actually have the keys for his fancy shmancy House by the Parkway digs, so this, boys and girls, for those of you unfamiliar with the concept, is what’s known as “breaking and entering.” But shhhh…don’t say nothing.

I was weighing the pros and cons of doing such a dastardly deed in my head, wondering, well…he’s such a swell guy…will he be soooper-doooper PO’ed at me? Will he sic the Usuals on me? Only time will tell, but, all’s I know is that he’s far, far away, with the Usuals, and so, for now, I don’t have to worry about getting my kneecaps broken by Paulie and Big Pussy and having a search and rescue squad dig up my Louisville Sluggered remains in the farookin’© Meadlowlands.

So, Jimbo’s in Gator Country…heh…heh…heh. Well, geez…now there is definitely a rich Everglades-sized minefield of banter just waiting to be unleashed on his unsuspecting ass, while he puts a jugunda frackin’ dent in the Sunshine State’s liquor supply soaks up the sun’s rays, and bobs in the crystal clear ocean waters with his buddies.

For starters, I thought it’d be kinda cool to throw a “what if” scenario your way. What if…what if…oh, I dunno…what if alligators also had Great Farookin’ Hair©, too? Kinda hard to imagine, but hey…that’s what Photoshop’s for, ain’t it?

Crikey!, I wish I knew how to do that nifty HTML thing Elisson does, with the “Whip it Out/Put it Back” tag, but, since I’m walking on thin ice as it is, I don’t wanna make stuff too complicated around here. Oh well.

I give you the scary-sick, Weird New Jerseyesque Alligator with Great Farookin’ Hair©. Just don’t stare at it directly, or else your stindeens’ll turn to stone.

Yeah, I’ll definitely be in deep doo-doo for this…Seeja laters, alligators.

(By the way, peeps…this PRS Hijacking would not have been made possible without the able-bodied assistance of “The Nicest Guy in the Blogosphere.”)

I thought our humble host might enjoy this when he returns.

I’ve often wondered who Jimbo would cheer for if there were a movie about killer alligators . . . THAT ATE CLOWNS!

How about it Hollywood?

Yes, folks. It is indeed that time of the year again – a time when the Usual Suspects descend on the Alligator Sunshine State for a week of rest, spiritual reflection and rejuvenation copious alcohol consumption, lots of poolside sitting, swimming standing around in the water and bullshitting, and having a shitload of laughs.

Ten of us Garden State Vulgarians will be winging our way to Fort Myers Beach tomorrow morning. Once we land and secure our land transport vehicles, we will make an initial stop here for a bit of lunch and a tune-up cocktail or two. From there, it’s another whirlwind stop at the supermarket to purchase necessary supplies for the week (including beer, lots of beer). Just one more stop before we hit our Headquarters, and that is the little liquor store, where the guy jumps for joy every year when we show up to launch a major assault on his inventory.

Once the land transports are unloaded and our stuff is tossed into our respective units, the six-day party begins.

The marathon party notwithstanding, on most mornings I still take a short break from the revelry to do the morning walk. Last year, several of the Usual Suspects reported having seen a “small” alligator in a little bullshit pond across the street from where we stay, within striking distance of where I was walking in the mornings. The locals confirmed the sightings and noted that, at some point, Mr. Alligator would likely have to be removed. I frankly don’t give a shit if they say the disgusting beast has been removed (there can always be more!), this coming week I plan on putting plenty of distance between my ass and that little bullshit pond.

While I’m away doing my part to make the local liquor store guy happy, those of you who have keys to the place are welcome to drop by and have at it. In any event, I plan to return to the keyboard some time next weekend.

Play nice, everyone.

Many people organize their lives by constantly preparing and updating “To Do” Lists. It seems that Hillary is no exception, as our PRS Operatives came to learn when they happened upon Ms. Clinton’s. Here it is:

THINGS TO DO TODAY

1. Make appointment with speech coach in advance of upcoming trip to North Dakota. I’ve got to learn talk like that pregnant cop in the movie.

2. Send e-mail to Teddy Kennedy telling him I can’t make it tonight, and besides the “Cowgirl and Wild Stallion” Game is getting a little old.

3. Send e-mail to Nancy P. telling her I can make it tonight, but she should be sure to arrange to have Sven and Olaf there. Tell her I’m brining my Bat Girl costume.

4. Call Bill to remind him that I still think he’s an asshole and that he better not screw this up for me.

5. Have staff member plant a story talk to friends at CNN about rumors that B. Obama is interested in some Mandingo action with Ann Coulter.

6. Send Katie Couric flowers with a note telling her she’s swell.

7. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. I will not shriek today. “Shirekers cannot be President.” Thanks, Dr. Phil.

8. Have staff hire new hairdresser. Five in as many weeks! Flitty bastards.

9. Fire somebody, just to stay sharp.

10. Pick up K-Y for Nancy’s later.

I’ll bet Shoe thought I’d forgotten her gift to me. Well, I haven’t. It’s just that I’ve spent all this time since being in Kerrville at the blogmeet marveling at the sheer beauty of a unit such as this. Imagine the fun and unbridled joy of pressing on the elephant’s trunk and having a cigarette pop out of its ass. Pure smoking pleasure, I tell ya.

Admit it. You’re all jealous.

Well, admit it, Gott-dammit!

Mr. Surly immediately appreciated the beauty of this item and said that he knows someone (I know the guy too) who would take up smoking if he were to possess such a unit. I had no idea that Mr. Surly had such a keen, artistic eye.

I will always be very grateful to the alluring Ms. Shoe for presenting me with this valuable piece.

Calm down now and don’t even think about trying to buy mine. Your ownership of one of these is just a click away.

Smoke ’em up.

This is what CBS bought for fifteen million dollars per year for five years.

In the latest week’s ratings, “CBS Evening News” had its worst performance since the Nielsen company installed its “people meter” ratings system 20 years ago.

Yeah, but Jimbo, would you rather have Katie Couric or Dan Rather anchor CBS News?

Yo, that’s sort of like asking me which of my stindeens I’d prefer to place into a vice for some serious squeezage.

Happy Mother’s Day

R.I.P., Margaret.

Maybe this dispute was over who had a smaller carbon footprint. Then again, perhaps it involved a quarrel between Ted Kennedy and a saloon owner over an unpaid bar tab.

In a comment to this post, Amy noted that she had recently taken a trip to our wonderful state. I can see that she experienced the real item, as she wrote:

The traffic in Jersey sucks. Just so you know. It just plain sucks. Maniac drivers are everywhere, and since we were at the beach, and it was an awesome day, congestion was the word of the day, traffic wise.

Welcome to Da Jersey Shore, Amy, and it ain’t even summer yet.

By a lucky coincidence, my Garden State buddy Gerry sent me the following little piece about Rules for Driving in Jersey, about which I offer two observations: Number three is a bit of an exaggeration, but the rest of them are quite accurate, particularly the stuff about perhaps being shot. You see, in Jersey only the cops and the bad guys have guns, and the bad guys are well aware of that.

So, wit dat, here’s Da Rules:

1. You must first learn to pronounce the city name, it is NEW-erk, not New-ARK.

2. The morning rush hour is from 5:00 a.m. to noon. The evening rush hour is from noon to 7:00 p.m. Friday’s rush hour starts on Thursday morning.

3. The minimum acceptable speed on the turnpike is 85 mph. On the parkway it’s 105 or 110. Anything less is considered “Wussy.”

4. Forget the traffic rules you learned elsewhere. Jersey has its own version of traffic rules. For example, cars/trucks with the loudest muffler go first at a four-way stop; the trucks with the biggest tires go second. However, in Monmouth County, SUV-driving, cell phone-talking moms ALWAYS have the right of way.

5. If you actually stop at a yellow light, you will be rear ended, cussed out, and possibly shot.

6. Never honk at anyone. Ever. Seriously. It’s another offense that can get you shot.

7. Road construction is permanent and continuous in all of Jersey. Detour barrels are moved around for your entertainment pleasure during the middle of the night to make the next day’s driving a bit more exciting.

8. Watch carefully for road hazards such as drunks, skunks, dogs, cats, barrels, cones, celebs, rubber-neckers, shredded tires, cell-phoners, deer and other road kill.

9. Mapquest does not work here — none of the roads are where they say they are or go where they say they do, and all the Turnpike EZ Pass Lanes are moved each night, once again, to make your ride more exciting.

10. If someone actually has their turn signal on, wave them to the shoulder immediately to let them know that the signal must have been “accidentally activated.”

11. If you are in the left lane and only driving 70 in a 55-65mph zone, you are considered a road hazard and will be “flipped off” accordingly. If you return the flip, you may be shot.

12. Do not try to estimate travel time — just leave Monday afternoon for Tuesday appointments, by noon, Thursday for Friday and right after church on Sunday for anything on Monday morning.

So, if any of youse will be in Jersey during a weekend this summer, good chance I’ll see you on the Parkway, because that’s where most folks spend a good part of the summer.

Yo! Happy Farookin’ Motoring!