Iâ€™m told by The Joanster, who I see has embraced her inner Brooklyn by incorporating urban artistry into her vast repertoire (ah, brings back memories of seeing â€œBreakinâ€™ II: Electric Boogaloo with my Mom at the Oceana Theater on Brighton Beach Avenue), that â€œnobody knows how to flog a dead horse betterâ€ than me.
Baby, I could flog live dinosaurs if Iâ€™m given just cause, and speaking of dinosaurs, how many of youse remember when Hairboy went on (and onâ€¦and onâ€¦and on) about New Jerseyâ€™s 127 miles of beautiful sandy beaches?
Well, gentle New Jerseyitesâ€¦while all of New Yorkâ€™s pristine and sparkling beaches â€” including my beloved Coney Island â€” are slated to open this Saturday in time for the Memorial Day weekend, â€œmunitions expertsâ€ are feverishly working to rid New Jerseyâ€™s 127-miles of sea and sand of â€œexplosivesâ€ and â€œWorld War I-era military munitions that were pumped ashore during a beach-replenishment project last year.â€
Peepsâ€¦did you read that closely? EXPLOSIVES! In the sand! Gee, that don’t sound like much fun.
I particularly delighted in this part: â€œPeople are banned from digging more than a foot into the sand and are not allowed to use metal detectors.â€
Sorry kidsâ€¦looks like youâ€™re gonna hafta Wait Till Next Year (hmmm, I wonder where Iâ€™ve heard THAT before).
Oh, and in his comparative treaty about beaches, Hairboy admonishes to â€œBe watchful for floaters coming from Sheepshead Bay.â€ Ironic, that, since a reader just today inquired: â€œElisson tells me youâ€™re the expert on explaining Coney Island Whitefish. So, whatâ€™s the deal?â€
Without going into too many deets, and trust me, I am no expert, hereâ€™s the dealie, my good man: Coney Island Whitefish are disgusting, revolting, abhorrent little floaters (the non-caca variety, iffen youse catch my drift) that have a tendency to find their way up the legs or down the groodies of ones swim trunks, or hanging over the bridge of ones nose when they come up for air after a dip in the waters.
And yes, the thought has occurred to me more than once that in order to bait unsuspecting and potential bennies and lure them to the promise of pristine Cape May beaches, only to make life utterly miserable for them once there, Jerseyites will embark upon covert operations to dump mass amounts of the secondhand little buggers into Brooklynâ€™s slightly less rank than Jerseyâ€™s waters.
Sabotage! I swear, I wouldnâ€™t put anything past Jersey peeps.
So, to you Jerseyites planning to trek down to the beach this Memorial Day weekend, unless you want to have munitions experts also collect your detached extremities from a vast swath of polluted sand, Iâ€™d rethink those plans a little more carefully.