Over the years, I have played at countless weddings, and I’ve seen an alcohol-fueled fight or two, but this one takes the cake.

Thanks to da Chef o’ da Future for the link

Yep, groundpounding by the House by the Parkway (South) sure beats playing Dodge ‘Em Cars and Trucks “up North.” I’ve been able to walk with an iPod for the first time ever, which is great for pure enjoyment, song learning and for maintaining a desired pace, but it does prevent me from thinking of goofy things to write about while groundpounding.

I guess I have to work on multitasking.

Too lazy to blog today, but I did enjoy this.

Thanks to my pal, the Stardust Shrink.

For the gazillionth time, the ol’ double standard rears its head.

Why is it perfectly acceptable for politicians, pundits and others to toss around the derogatory term “teabaggers” to describe American citizens who ascribe to the philosophy of small government, fiscal responsibility, a strong defense and adherence to the principles set forth in the Declaration of Independence and the rule of law as enunciated in the U.S. Constitution?

Make a joke at someone’s private birthday party? You’re fired. Use a name that some historian can link to racism? Lose an election. Speak out against a group that calls itself “The Race”? You’re a damned racist. Yet, refer to Americans who believe in the Constitution as “teabaggers”, and you can count yourself among major media personalities as well as prominent lawmakers.

Look, I’m a big fan of the First Amendment and, as such, I believe that the folks who want to call patriotic Americans “teabaggers” can go ahead and do so, but their hypocrisy is fair game.

Apparently, even the sometimes funny, more often detestable, Jon Stewart, is beginning to see the light.

Happy Veterans Day to all who have worn the uniform.

Happy 235th Birthday to the United States Marines, and best wishes to all who are serving and who have served proudly in the Corps.

Soldiers’ Angels is a recognized 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, which provides numerous services to our troops. (You can read about Soldiers’ Angels here). The organization is currently running its annual Project Valour-IT fundraiser. Project Valour-IT helps provide voice-controlled/adaptive laptop computers and other technology to support Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines recovering from hand wounds and other severe injuries. The technology supplied includes voice-controlled laptop computers, whole body Wii game systems (donated to hospitals for use in physical therapy), and hand held GPS devices to help build self-confidence and to compensate for short-term memory impairment.

Each year the military blogging community forms teams, each representing a branch of the military, as a friendly fundraising competition. I am a member of Team Army. You can GO HERE to learn about Project Valour-IT and to donate to Team Army. Of course, if you wish make your donation on behalf of another team (Navy, Marines, Air Force), or you wish to donate without specifying a team, you can click on “Campaigns” at the top of the linked page to do so. It’s easy. It is important to note that all funds raised go to a single account and assist wounded warriors of any branch.

Soldiers’ Angels is a wonderful organization and Project Valour-IT is an excellent program. I hope you can make a donation, no matter how large or small.

Thanks.

Note: The Project Valour-IT Cartoon pictured above is by my buddy John Cox.

Last night, Ken, my bodyguard, and I arrived back in New Jersey from having attended the festivities sometimes known as “Hysterics at Eric’s.” As in the past, attending this event leaves one completely spent, but looking forward to next year.

Here are some random highlights:

The trip from Jersey to Tennessee is about 775 miles. We always break the trip down to Tennessee into two pieces, staying in Bristol, Virginia, leaving only a couple hours of driving for the following day. I ended up doing most of the driving on Thursday, just about all of which was done in the farookin’ rain. The beltway around Washington D.C. was a nightmare between the massive construction projects and the rain. The construction had the GPS a bit confused and the rain and the GPS had me more than a little confused. Of course, that’s when my bodyguard decided to fall asleep. A few minutes of genuine adventure ensued.

When we finally arrived at the hotel in Bristol, we headed off to a walking-distance-away restaurant for something to eat. More than hungry, I was in dire need of a cocktail. Three Maker’s Marks and two big beers later, my road-jangled nerves started to behave. At that point, the only civilized thing to do was to go back to the hotel and sit at the bar for more cocktails until the place closes, which is precisely what we did. A few more Maker’s Marks and a few more beers later, we had a bit of trouble finding the elevator.

Oh, I almost forgot. While at the hotel bar, we met a guy named Mike, who is from Boston. Turns out that Mike can’t stand Barney Frank or John Kerry, which means that there are at least two people in Massachusetts who are not insane (the other person being Teresa“>Teresa). I promised I would give him props in the blog, so here’s to you, Mike. Congratulations on your mental health, an exceedingly rare thing in the Land of Barney Frank and John Kerry.

The final leg of the trip was not without another minor adventure. Either the GPS did us dirt, or we just screwed up (the latter being more likely, given that we were both a bit ragged around the edges from the night before), causing us to wind up on a forty-mile stretch of Tennessee that looked as if it could be home to Li’l Abner and Mammy Yokum.

When we arrived at Eric’s, it took a while to work myself up to having a beer, but I rose to the occasion, having learned over the years the importance of being able to play hurt.

Bou and Elisson (with other guests pitching in) made an excellent dinner, which included gumbo. A half dozen southern heads spun around when I asked, “What’s gumbo?” I explained that in Jersey we do lots of minestrone, but no farookin’ gumbo. Elisson showed me the proper way to eat gumbo, including the addition of a spice with a strange name (“fahleelee” or some such thing) as a thickening agent. Two helpings later, I decided that I really liked it. Bonus: It goes well with beer, story telling and belly laughing.

Day Two began with what has become a traditional breakfast at a local restaurant, where very few of the cups match, but the hospitality is just fine. The modest buffet boasts, among other things, biscuits and gravy, an absolute fave of mine whenever I go south of the Mason-Dixon Line.

Following breakfast, it was back to Eric’s for cocktails, billiards, bullshitting, fire making, fire sitting, stoking a smoker that was big enough in which to smoke a yak and a dinner (again made by Elisson, Bou and helpers) of smoked ribs, pulled pork, smoked chicken, baked ‘taters, sweet ‘taters, veggies and more gumbo. It was excellent.

By this time we were all well fed and pretty well oiled (yes, there are a few folks who stick to soft drinks), so Denny (the younger half of the Elderly Brothers) and I commenced to making what might be loosely referred to as music. It was great fun, and it is always easier to play when most members of the audience are a tad zippered.

We finished the night sitting outside around a raging fire and shooting the breeze. We melted a couple beer bottles in the fire. That always seems like a good idea to me.

The folks who were on the case were:

Eric (the host) and the ever gracious Fiona, who puts up with this every year.
Denny
Elisson & SWMBO
John Cox
Jerry
El Capitan
Bou
K-Nine
Big Stupid Tommy
Rick & Georgia
Teresa
Erica
Leslie

It’s always great to see them and it’s tough to say good-bye. We’ve been together enough times over the years that we’re not just fellow bloggers, but rather we’ve all become genuine friends. and we would remain friends, even if everyone put their respective blogs to bed.

Ken, my longtime friend and bodyguard, and I will be hitting the road tomorrow morning for Tennessee, where we will spend a couple days with a clutch of reprobates bloggers, former bloggers and friends of bloggers. If history provides any indication of what to expect, I figure there will be thousands of laughs, a bullshit story or twenty, some good eats, a shitload few cocktails and a bit of guitar pickin’.

We usually spend several hours in the evening sitting outside around a fire. I am curious to see how the peeps coming from Florida will fare with the expected evening temperatures in the twenties. By contrast, we expect someone from Wisconsin, and for her, the weather will be downright balmy. Being from Jersey, we are equipped to do all climes.

In anticipation of guitar playin’, I put new strings on my road guitar today. Did I ever tell you how much I farookin’ hate putting on new strings? No, you say? Well, let me tell you; I hate it—really hate it. I usually end up poking a hole in my finger with an errant string. This time, however, I gave my thumb one of those black bruises when it got pinched between the handles of the pliers as I struggled to remove one of the damned pegs that holds the strings in the guitar. Nevertheless, I completed the mission and only dropped a few dozen F-bombs.

I loves me some Tennessee.

Play nice while I’m gone.

Needless to say, I am happy as a clam that the democrats got their asses kicked, big time yesterday. “Hope and Change” didn’t work out for them, I guess. Meanwhile, The One will jet off to India while the democrat losers work on their resumes.

Still, there were some low points, namely the states in which the majority of the voters are obviously insane:

California: Barbara “Call me Senator” Boxer was re-elected. I caught her victory speech last night. Good Christ, the woman cannot help but be thoroughly obnoxious and utterly detestable. As if re-electing this horrible woman were not crazy enough, the sourdough-addled voters of California are sending Jerry “the Kook” Brown back to Sacramento, presumably because the state was really groovy when he was governor twice before, a half a lifetime ago. It’s just a matter of time before the taxpayers of the other 49 states will have to dig into their pockets to bail California out.

Nevada: Harry Reid? Are you farookin’ kidding me? The state is a shambles, with among the highest unemployment and foreclosure rates (possibly the highest) in the nation, and Harry Reid has an unfavorable rating just north of Satan’s. He’s a very bad guy. I smell a rat, but I’ll leave it to the democrats to play the “You Cheated” card.

Massachusetts: Barney Frank returns to Congress. This is so stunningly crazy I don’t know what to say. This bloviating slob was one of the prime movers of the crap that lead to the financial meltdown. What can you expect from a state where Teddy Kennedy is treated like a saint?

New York: Charlie Rangel won by something like 90%, proving that his constituents must be deaf, dumb and blind and, yes, stupid as shit. Oh, and thanks to New Yorkers, Chuck Schumer will get to spend yet another six years of his life without ever having had gainful employment. Weasel-faced jerk.

Update: Yep, the stink of rat.