PRS Operatives have managed to obtain a copy of Senator Charles “Chuck” Schumer’s schedule for this coming Sunday, which is quite typical. Here ‘tis:

9:00 a.m. Press Conference: The ridiculous price of a decent knish: The failure of the Bush Administration

11:00 a.m. Press Conference: The economics of new soles and heels versus new shoes: The failure of the Bush Administration

1:00 p.m. Press Conference: Horses – they’re not food, so what’s the point? The failure of the Bush Administration

2:00 p.m. Press Conference: Extension cords – Where are they when you need one? The failure of the Bush Administration

4:00 p.m. Press Conference: Still no cure for the common cold. The failure of the Bush Administration

5:30 p.m. Adult Video Store: Amen

I had resigned myself to not having anything to write about. Besides, the after-work-weather was primo, so I decided to make myself a cocktail to drink on the deck of the House by the Parkway. My cocktail of choice tonight was a screwdriver. That’s when it occurred to me that I make truly outstanding screwdrivers, and I should share my wisdom with the world.

I know, you’re thinking, Yo, Jimbo. Gimme a break. It’s vodka and orange juice. What’s the big deal?

Of course that is not unlike saying that the Mona Lisa is just some paint on a hunk of canvas.

Pay attention, because I am going to tell you how to make a good screwdriver, and how to turn a good screwdriver into an excellent screwdriver not known by many.

Ready?

Da Glass: You should use a nice glass, and it should have some size to it – not one of those little bullshit glasses that you get in the run-of-the-mine saloons. I use a 12 oz. Sasaki, perfectly cylindrical glass tumbler. I also have used the clear part of a cocktail shaker for mondo, seriously-thirsty drinks.

Da Ice. One never uses milky ice cubes. They look like shit and invariably taste like a refrigerator. Your refrigerator’s fancy-schmancy ice-maker might be handy, but use the stuff it makes for something other than mixed drinks. One should always keep a bag of commercially made clear ice in the freezer.

Da Ice in Da Glass: Put lots of clear ice in the glass. The ice should reach the top of the glass.

Da Vodka: Use decent vodka. It need not be the designer stuff at thirty bucks a bottle, but it should be vodka, of the caliber of Ketel One, Stoly or Finlandia (I’m not an Absolut fan – It tastes like it has vermouth in it). I know, you’re thinking, Yo, Jimbo, vodka is pretty much tasteless and, besides, you’re mixing it with orange juice. Why not use cheap vodka? The answer is simple. Life is just too gott-damned short to drink cheap booze. ‘Nuf said.

Da Pour: Pour a jigger (maybe a bit more – I free pour, but I have a good eye) over the ice. You’ll know you’re on the right track if you can hear the ice crackle as you pour the booze over the cubes. (If you keep your vodka in the freezer as I do, you probably won’t hear the crackle.)

Da Secret: I’ll bet you thought the next step would be to pour the orange juice over the ice and vodka. Wrong! This is the step that makes the difference between a good screwdriver and an excellent screwdriver. Take a quarter of a fresh lime and squeeze it over the ice and vodka, then drop the lime into the glass.

Da Juice: Do not use juice made from concentrate. Feh. Spring for some good orange juice that is not made from concentrate. Pulp is optional. Now, pour the juice over the ice, vodka and lime. Give it a quick stir and enjoy.

You’re welcome.

Those of us who live in Jersey often ask ourselves this question.

After all, we have:

Temperatures that range from tropical to Arctic,

Constant traffic jams, unless you wish to travel between 3 and 4 in the morning,

State budgets that increase by leaps and bounds, even while the current tax base (i.e. the so-called “rich”) and the future tax base (young, upwardly mobile families) are fleeing the state as if it were 1939 Germany,

A state government that is every bit as corrupt as some third-rate banana republics,

Governors who are laughed at across the nation,

A state government that is downright hostile to business development,

Crippling income, sales, and property taxes, and

Sheeple who insist on perpetuating the mess by electing the same lemons every year.

And now, just when you thought that living here couldn’t be any more daunting, we have a terrorist cell whose members are prepared to die in Fort Dix while in the process of killing as many American soldiers as possible.

But wait, Jimbo. We have 126 miles of beautiful beaches, which is a good thing, no?

Ooops! Never mind. It seems that at least one of our best beaches is closed because, so far, a thousand pounds of unexploded tank and anti-aircraft shells have been found in the sand. Make those sand castles at your own risk, peeps.

The answer: We live here because, by nature, we are idiots thrill seekers.

‘Scuse me; I need a refill.

Trying to capture and communicate the spirit of a blogmeet is never easy, particularly because one always has to do it while suffering bone-crushing fatigue born of the marathon festivities. Stripped of detail, a blogmeet is a gathering of people who spew a steady flow of words into cyberspace and have the gall to think that other people might actually want to read their scribblings. Put a couple dozen such people in one place at one time with non-stop libations and you have a two-day blabfest, lots of snark, boatloads of laughs, new friends and a case of mental and physical fatigue that takes days to dissipate.

The Kerrville Do was no exception.

When my fellow Yankee Traveling Companion and I arrived in San Antonio, we were warmly greeted at the airport by Christina, who was not able to attend the meet, but who took the time to schlep an hour or so to the San Antonio Airport just to welcome two dazed and confused Yanks to Texas. She also provided me with a care bag, which was chock full of goodies selected by her and her husband Dash (also my buddy) to make my Jersey-Texas transition less traumatic. It sure was great to see her, even if only for a short time.

Christina’s final favor was to alert Jerry of Confabulation, who had graciously arranged to be waiting at the airport to pick us up, of our arrival and readiness to whisked away on our Kerrville Adventure. Demonstrating his Big-as-Texas hospitality, Jerry picked us up and took a detour so that we could spend a bit of time at the Alamo. I enjoyed the visit, which left me wanting to do a bit more reading about the history of the Alamo, such as, for example, why were there so many men from Ireland who died fighting there? Who knew?

On to Kerrville.

Once I got checked in and took a quick shower to wash off the travel grit and fight off the jet lag, I headed straight for the hotel saloon, knowing that I was likely to find a bunch of bloggers there. Of course, my expectations were dead on. The saloon served Shiner Bock and I was damned thirsty. That is exactly the right way to tune up for the real festivities, which began when Shoe showed up with an entire Texas Barbecue spread for the hungry travelers. GuyK contributed a pot of gumbo, which he assured me did not contain any possum or armadillo.

We drank, bullshat and laughed until damned near one a.m., and we resumed around noon on Saturday and continued through the wee hours of Sunday morning, the only difference being that on Saturday Denny and I (a/k/a the Elderly Brothers) had special fun doing a bit of pickin’ and grinnin’.

I got to meet old friends from previous blogmeets. They included:

Denny, the Grouchy Old Cripple: I met Denny for the first time in Helen, Georgia in 2004, and I have seen him several times since, each time being a special treat. You should know that he and I are considering doing a tour playing in nursing homes all over the country. I’m thinking we could call it the “Soft Food Tour”.

Shoe: Shoe was the consummate hostess literally brining an SUV full of food (and booze) to the hotel. She also made a couple take-out food runs once we would stop blabbing long enough to express hunger and only slightly longer to stuff food in our mouths to fuel yet more blabbing. She also drove Erica, Leslie and me back to the Airport on Sunday and treated us to lunch. Leslie had an earlier flight and missed Texas’s version of a Philadelphia Cheese Steak, which was damned good. (Memo to Self: In Texas, when something is served “with chips,” those chips ain’t potato chips. Them’s nacho chips, which were excellent.)

Jerry from Confabulation: Jerry is a damned nice guy, who forgets more about Texas and Oklahoma on any given day than I could ever hope to know.

Leslie from Leslie’s Omnibus: Leslie is great company, and she lent some dignity to the festivities by eschewing beer swilling, engaged in by most of the Vulgarians, in favor of drinking wine in mass quantities sipping wine poured from bottles that actually had corks!

Walrilla from Walrilla’s Wonderings: It was a special treat to see Walrilla again and to see that, consistent with his blog posts, he as doing well since his accident. His temporary state of one-footedness did not slow him down in the least, and his sense of humor is alive and well. The proof: The wearing of a tee shirt on which was written, “It’s all fun and games until someone loses a foot.” Ya gotta love da guy.

El Capitan of Baboon Pirates: It’s always great to see the Cap. If you ever ran into this big feller in a dark alley, you’d consider kissing your ass good bye, but the truth is that his smile and sense of humor are also industrial sized. I figure his flaming Cadillac story will have everyone howling for at least a dozen more blogmeets.

Nancy of Nancy’s Garden Spot and Da Pup a/k/a Richie, a/k/a Nancy’s hub: This nice couple was also at the Austin meet. They presented everyone with their very own aloe plant, and for those of us who would be flying and therefore could end up in airline jail for transporting plants, they gave us each a jar of “Texas Traffic Jam,” which they assured me did not contain any armadillo. Good peeps.

I finally got to meet two long-time members of Mr. Blogroll:

GuyK of Charming, Just Charming (and his lovely bride of more than four decades): It was a real pleasure to finally meet GuyK. He looks exactly like his picture on his blog (including the ever-present cool lid), and he has a southern drawl that positively sings. I believe I could shoot the shit with him for hours (and I probably did). We all celebrated Guy’s 65th birthday on Sunday, making him one of two peeps at the meet older than I am. Hell, I’da given him fifty bucks, if he woulda called me “Kid.” He does have a bit of a mean streak in him though, in that he presented me with a toy alligator, which actually squeaks when squeezed and which now sits proudly atop this monitor. I look forward to the day when I can be in the company of him and his bride again.

Erica of Erica’s Blog: This smartass Brooklyn Joooish babe is a terrific writer who could give seminars on composing blog comments and who also is a most excellent traveling companion. I took great pleasure in knowing that she would actually have to enter the Garden State to catch the plane to San Antonio. After a few more trips she may finally realize that Jersey rules. Oh, and I learned on the way to the San Antonio Airport that she can put her hand over her mouth and make a fart sound that, in nature, might be made by a dyspeptic bull elephant. Must be a Brooklyn thing.

Then there were the peeps who heretofore were not on Mr. Blogroll and who I met for the very first time:

Jerry of Back Home Again: Jerry walked into the blogmeet when it was in full swing, and in two minutes he had a dozen new friends. Although he recently returned to his home state of Indiana, he is extremely well-traveled and has lots of great stories to tell, from being “overdressed” in a Fargo eatery (he was wearing Dockers!) to actually working in Paramus, New Jersey, Heaven help him.

Hammer: Hammer is another 100% Texan, and I believe this was his first blogmeet. He too took to it like a fish takes to water. Within five minutes, he was crackin’ wise as good as anyone else. Nice guy. Hope to see him again.

Becky of Tall Cool Drink of Water: Becky zoomed in on Saturday morning when a few of us were having to keep our eyes closed to keep from bleeding to death. It didn’t take any time at all before she too was waist-deep in blog blabbing. Before the day was out, she even managed to shoe polish the windows on Guy’s truck, as you can see on her site. Unfortunately she had to leave earlier than any of us would have liked, but she had mom stuff to attend to. I understand that she will be a regular at these events, and that’s a good thing.

Jim of Smoke on the Water: It was a particular pleasure to get to meet Jim, who is a heavy hitter in the ‘sphere. He’s a sailboat guy; he appreciates excellent bourbon and good cigars and can tell a funny story with the best of ‘em. He looks like he stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine, and he travels with enough firepower to overtake a mid-sized city in Iraq. When I explained that packing that kind of heat would land one in deep shit in Jersey, he smiled and said, “Welcome to Texas.” I really hope to see him again (and his most excellent significant other as well).

Running Behind (Is that an Apache name?) of A Disregard for Timekeeping: This may be a first. Running Behind came to the blogmeet as a non-blogging friend of Walrilla’s and after spending a couple days with us reprobates, he fired up his own blog. Truly excellent. This is one damned good guy. Walrilla obviously picks his friends well, and I’m glad that I can now say that this guy is also a friend of mine.

Denny’s Commenter: This is also a first. As it happens, one of Denny’s regular commenters lives in the Kerrville area, and he popped in and fit right in, thereby proving that one need not be a blogger to get funky with a bunch of bloggers.

Even though these things leave you feeling as if you survived a bus plunge into a deep ravine, I had a helluva time and I look forward to the next one.

OK, this is the first time (and likely the last) that I have posted any photo that is “R” rated (if you don’t count those images of Hillary and Nancy Pelosi). But, I wanted to share with you the abuse that is heaped on my sorry ass simply because I admit to being scared shitless of alligators. The above body art image was sent to me by Gregor, a fellow Jersey Blogger, knowing that I would soon be in the place where this shit went down. Truly a work of “art”. Thanks, Buddy.

Still, I shall not be deterred. Hell, I already ponied up the scratch for the plane tickets and hotel. Besides, this will be a great opportunity to see old friends and to make a bunch of new ones. Maybe we’ll even find time to have a cocktail or two.

Although I had intended to bring the Rob Guitar, it turns out that the neck needs to be adjusted a tad, so, instead, I will be toting my seriously brandy new axe made with exotic wood to break it in in public as it were. The good news is that the axe is new and so are the strings, so I won’t be sticking little holes in my fingers changing strings. Damn, I can’t bring a gun on the plane, so I hope I don’t have to clobber a gator with my new guitar.

You’ll be able to recognize me. I’ll be the weary lookin’ guy lugging a guitar case who doesn’t talk like anyone else there, except maybe for Erica, but she’s from Brooklyn where they really talk funny.

Yo, see youse guys tomorrow.

Seeing as how our former governor, Jim McGreevey, has managed to become a national joke, you have probably heard the latest. It wasn’t enough of a kick in the stindeens to learn that the utterly disgraced Jim McGreevey was still picking the taxpayers’ pockets as a professor of ETHICS, LAW and LEADERSHIP at a state university! No, now we learn that Mr. McGreevey has enrolled in a seminary and will likely become an Episcopalian priest.

The hell of it is, two days ago, my blog buddy Randy from Montana sent me this link, essentially laying out the priest story. Given that the whole thing seemed a bit gossipy, I decided not to write about it, but rather to wait until something popped up locally. As it happens, his ongoing custody battle with his estranged wife was all over the papers. Besides, I had really hoped that the story was not true, as I just want the creep to go away.

Well, now here we are. At the same time that this crud is back on the state payroll and is tying up valuable court time slugging it out in what promises to be an ugly custody dispute, and at the same time that his soon-to-be former wife has published her own account of life with the governor and is making an appearance on Oprah, we learn that he really is doing all things one does to become an Episcopalian priest.

I gotta tell ya. Living in Jersey is a farookin’ adventure.

Apparently of the mind that I need a regular purging of the bowels, you peeps delight in sending me pictures of these farookin’ pre-historic beasts appearing in places where you know I soon will be. Then there are those who send me pictures for the pure joy of scaring the dogshit out of me, such as, Maeve who sent me an e-mail directing me to this picture. And, yes that is a pig in its mouth.

Let’s not forget KeesKennis, who obviously took perverse pleasure in posting this and suggesting that I might want this guy’s croc-feeding gig.

What did I ever do to you insensitive shitballs to deserve this? Let me answer that for you. NOTHING!

May all you sadists who take joy in sending me pictures of giant man-eating reptiles have a case of itchy heiney in a public place and may every single one of you get stuck in Jersey traffic behind a New York driver. Call 1-800-REPTILES. Don’t call me.

Bastards.