I am one of several members of my American Legion Post who is called upon from time to time to participate in the Rifle Squad. The Rifle Squad shows up several times per year at various civic events (e.g. Flag Day, Memorial Day) to fire ceremonial volleys. It is important for each of us to know the rudiments of the Manual of Arms, so we look something like a unit, rather than four old partisans with rifles.

As such, those of us who served in the Army always tease the Navy Vets in the Squad about how their Navy rifle training consisted of being shown which end of the rifle produces the bullets.

There are, however, some sailors who kick ass and take names when it comes to the Manual of Arms and then some, and they do it with fixed bayonets.

Behold, the U.S. Navy Ceremonial Guard Drill Team in action.

Thanks to my friend Brian, the Air Force Vet.

I’ve got them, big time. I don’t have the energy or the ability to write anything worth a shit. I’ve had them before, and, as in the past, I suspect they will pass. Still, the Blahs are a bitch when you’ve got ‘em.

Why do I have the blahs?

Damned good question, in response to which I can only speculate. So here are the three, four, five, six, seven reasons why I think I might have the Blahs:

1. Recent pasting by the New Jersey State Government.
Being taxed to death for the privilege of living in this Blue State between the “elites” and the democrat “base” is just the most recent of the governmental muggings inflicted on the working citizens of New Jersey, and it’s beginning to wear my ass out. I wonder if all the heavy Rt. 22 traffic these days is the result of the legions of people now shopping for real estate in Pennsylvania.

2. I can’t spell “rhythm” without relying on Spellcheck.
It’s sad, because it is a word that I would like to use more often, but I write around it, not wanting to interrupt a thought to go to Mr. Spellcheck and thereby implicitly admit my strange frailty. Yes, in the previous sentence I took a feeble stab at the word, only to rely yet again on Mr. Spellcheck. Jeez.

3. My new phone is too farookin’ complicated.
I wound up buying a new cell phone. Why that happened is a rather boring story, but suffice it say that only in the world of “Verizonspeak” would it cost more to replace Mrs. Parkway’s phone than it would to buy two new phones. Anyway, the one I bought is one of those “RAZOR” phones that not only makes telephone calls, but also does about three million other things, about 2,999,997 of which I don’t need and will never use. I expect that if I pushed the right buttons and held it over the right spot, the damned thing would do an appendectomy. Forget about taking pictures with it – all I want to do is be able to say “Call home” and watch it do its stuff. Probably will never happen though.

Update: I forgot. I also now have one of those damned Blue Tooth, hands-free things. What the hell have I become? Listen … if you ever see me walking down the street with that thing stuck in my ear, please kick my ass. Thank you.

4. I need to change the CDs in my car.
I’ve been listening to the current six for a couple weeks, and I’m ready for a change. Problem is that I’m too lazy and, being a Libran, I can’t make a decision. Dion? The Stones? Merle Haggard? Maybe a little Candy Dulfer blowin’ sax? Shit!

5. I get too much goddamned mail.
Most of it is junk mail (No, I don’t need another farookin’ credit card, thank you very much), but there is just enough of it that I have to read to piss me off and give me the Blahs.

6. I can’t make the Blogmeet in Helen this year.
This makes it two years in a row. I have prior professional commitments, which I cannot move. Negs me out, and surely has something to do with the Blahs.

7. I miss Rob.
‘Nuf said.

As I mentioned in an earlier post (which contained a picture of one of Corky’s bikes), Corky is the bro of my friend and bodyguard, Ken, and he designs and fabricates badass motorcycles. Below is yet another of Corky’s bikes. Sweet, no?

While in Florida in May, Corky let me sit on this Bad Boy, but given my long-expired motorcycle license, my blood alcohol level at the time, and his (and my) desire not to turn this beauty into scrap metal, he “suggested” that I not fire it up.

Here is a close-up of the rear fender with the raised image. Corky explained how he did this, but did I mention my blood-alcohol level at the time? Damned if I know how he did it, but it is most impressive.

Should you be interested in talking with Corky about one of these bikes or something else you have in mind (particularly if you live anywhere near Florida), shoot me an e-mail, and I’ll hook you up.

As I said in the prior post, in the interest of full disclosure, I suspect that my “commission” should you buy one of Corky’s units, will be a cold beer, which works for me.

The state employees who did not work during the state government shutdown will be paid anyway. In a message posted on a state government website, Governor Corzine stated, “I am pleased we will be able to execute a timely payroll on July 14th to both furloughed and non-furloughed state workers, including full compensation for the time during the shutdown.”

I received some interesting comments from a couple state workers on my most recent post dealing with this subject, and, on a personal level, I feel their pain. However, as a taxpayer and one who is subject to the whims and/or economic realities of the private sector, this bothers me.

N.B. State employees need not comment, as I understand your position on this issue. The good news for you is that the Governor agrees with you. It’s a done deal. Rock on, and enjoy the rest of the summer.

Did you every stub your big toe so bad that you saw stars?

Did it continue to throb afterwards, even after applying cold stuff?

Did it hurt like a bitch when you even slightly touch it?

Did the purple hue set in a few hours later?

Did the purple pain maker prevent you on the day after the injury from doing your morning walk?

Did it prevent you from wearing anything on your feet other than those horrible thongy things (a/k/a flip flops), which I believe to be nothing more than Asian torture devices?

For your sake, I hope not.

Yes indeedy. Today is T1G’s birthday, and I have no doubt that he will celebrate with an adult beverage or two. I have had the pleasure being in his company on two occasions, and he is a bear of a guy, but of the “Gentle Ben” variety. I can’t imagine anyone not liking him.

I was fortunate enough to swipe a picture of T1G from Eric’s house when I was there last October. Eric had snapped this picture after T1G drove his Harley from somewhere around Chicago all the way to Tennessee some time earlier that year.

Handsome devil, isn’t he?

Happy Boitday, Joe!

Seeing as how I was out all day hanging with the Usual Suspects, and I am fresh out of content at the moment. I thought I would post another picture from the 2004 Blogmeet in Helen.

Yes, that would be the lovely Key Monroe painting Rob’s toenails a purrrrrty red. It was an interesting couple of days, from what I can remember of them.

When I went to Helen, Georgia in 2004, I bought a cheap, disposable camera. I’m pretty sure I dropped it more than a couple times, and I took most, if not all, of the pictures after having had a few refreshments. As a result of that (and my not being much of a photographer on the best of days), the pictures (prints) came out pretty crappy. I looked at them once, decided they were just about worthless, and stuffed them back in the drug store envelope, after which time they found their way to the bottom of a basket of things I don’t quite know what to do with. I suspect you may have such as basket at your place.

Now that Rob is gone, the “worthless” pictures are, to me, priceless. Here is the first of a few I’ll be posting over the next few days.

That is my friend and bodyguard Ken on the left. The guy in the center is, of course, Eric (The Ambassador of the Blogosphere), and Rob is on the right wearing shades. The name of the bar at which this picture was taken was The Troll. I booshit you not. That was the name.

I see that the democrat Governor and democrat legislators have reached an agreement on how best to increase the amount of tax the state can squeeze out of New Jersey’s taxpayers. As such, in the end, it really didn’t matter much which democrats won the argument.

Throughout this mess, our Big Spending Governor has acted more like a union boss than the State’s CEO, and the legislators, who wallow in the Political Swamp, seemed most concerned about figuring out ways to impose new taxes under the voters’ Radar.

The state, which became a national joke as a result of Governor McGreevey’s antics, is faring no better now, and there is absolutely no reason to think things will improve going forward, unless we do something to fix things.

Here’s my suggestion for fixing the disgusting black hole that is New Jersey politics. It’s simple.

Step 1. On Election Day, be sure you know who the incumbent candidate is. The political party doesn’t matter. Just make sure you know who currently holds the office.

Step 2. Vote for the other candidate.

I know you’re thinking, ”Yo, Jimbo. There’s no guarantee that we’ll wind up with better people.” To which I respond, ”Yo, can it get any worse?”

It doesn’t get much closer than it did this morning.

I was out doing the regular morning “walk”. I stopped at the intersection of two streets that are relatively busy at that time in the morning, intending to cross. When the light turned green, I began to cross the street (in the crosswalk), when I noticed a car in the cross street entering the intersection in the opposite direction, intending to make a left turn. That happens often, and the driver is supposed to stop in the intersection to permit pedestrians to cross.

Problem today was that an SUV not only didn’t stop in the intersection, but accelerated through the turn. By the time I realized that the driver of the SUV had no intention of stopping, I was directly in front of the SUV, which by this time was four feet away and still accelerating.

Reflexes that I did not realize I still had, caused me to do a big leap forward, resulting in the SUV missing me by inches. Indeed, had the leap not caused me to bend forward, I suspect I would have been clipped by the driver’s side rearview mirror as the car passed me without ever slowing down, never mind braking. That’s how close it was.

I looked over my right shoulder in time to share an expletive with the woman driving the SUV, who, while still driving forward, looked back at me with a shocked expression on her face. She never stopped.

I am certain that the woman never saw me until she saw me leap out the way, and had I not seen the SUV, I would be road pizza right about now.

The episode added a bit more “cardio” to the walk, for damned sure.