John Kerry was in the limo today on his way to the airport to take his plane to his villa in France. The car passed by a small American Legion Post. His advisors had told him that it would be a good idea for him to spend more time with real people. So, on the spur of the moment, he directed the driver to stop so he could pop in and connect with the “peeps,” his brothers in arms.

John: “Hello there, guys. I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I would pop in just to shoot the breeze, catch up on the straight skinny, if ya know what I mean.”

Guys at the Bar:

John: “I am a member, you know. I have my membership card right here. See?”

Guys at the Bar:

John: “So, how are you guys doing? Vietnam? Me too. I served in Vietnam, you know.”

Guys at the Bar:

John: “Hey, yeah, Vietnam. I remember lots of stuff. ‘You buy me Saigon tea, GI? Me love you long time.’ Remember that? How cool was that?”

Guys at the Bar:

John: “Yeah, man. Hey! The Doors ‘Come on baby light my fire….’ That was so groovy, really far out. And how about those Animals ‘We gotta get outa this place….if it’s the last thing we ever doooooo’ I loved that stuff. ‘Goooooooood Morning, Viiii-et-NAM!’ Great shit, no?”

Guys at the Bar:

John: “Silly me. I never introduced myself. That’s ‘cause I thought you guys would recognize me. You do know who I am, don’t you?”

Guys at the Bar:

Bartender: “What can I get you?”

John: “Hey, how’s it goin’? You a vet too?”

Bartender: “Yeah, I am. What can I get you?”

John: “How about a nice pinot noir. Nothing too robust, but something with a nice nose and a smooth finish.”

Bartender: “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

John: “Oh, I forgot. People drink beer in these places. How about a Grolsch?”

Bartender: “Grolsch? Never heard of it. We got Bud, Miller and Coors.”

John: “Well, let’s see. How about it guys? What’s your favorite poison? Waddya say I buy a round? What’ll you have?”

Guys at the Bar:

John: “Uh, OK. Listen, I just remembered. I’m late for a speaking engagement. I’ll see you guys.” (leaves)

Guys at the Bar: “Asshole.”

I figure that Site Meter must have gone squirrley last night, or lots of people have suddenly decided that this place is about as appealing as the men’s room in the Port Authority Bus Terminal.

I hope it’s the former, but one never knows.

You mean to tell me that you don’t read Jeff Goldstein? Big mistake.

Farookin’ hilarious.

Every time I go there, I am reminded that the folks there don’t have much in common with the folks here, except maybe McDonald’s.

Tomorrow is Veterans Day. In thinking about what to say about Veterans Day, I decided to take a look to see what, if anything, I said about Veterans Day last year.

Turns out that I like what I said then, and meant what I said then. I would say the same thing today, so there is no sense repeating myself.

I salute all those who have worn the uniform and those who are wearing it now.

That is all.

Bought a new “upstairs” television. It is a 24″ flat screen unit, with VCR and DVD players built in. I bought a TV with the widgets built into it, because if I were to try to hook up those two separate gadgets to the TV, the odds are excellent that one or both of them would go out the window.

So far, so good. Even the owner’s manual (at least the parts of it necessary to initially auto-program the set) is written more clearly than some of the word salad I have encountered in the past when trying to figure out how to operate things electronic.

Memo to Television Manufacturers: Yo, might it be possible to provide a remote displaying letters and numbers that can be read by someone who doesn’t quite have the visual acuity of a peregrine falcon? And, while you’re at it, how about a remote with buttons that can be operated by someone who doesn’t have fingers like ET’s.

We pause for this minute of introspection.

Voice Inside My Cruller: Jimbo, you sound like some kind of whiney dork bitching about the owner’s manual and the design of the farookin’ remote. You’re old enough to remember the 10″ Dumont that got seven “channels,” and on which sat rabbit ears with aluminum foil balls on the tips. Don’t you remember that changing the station actually required you to get your ass out of the chair and turn the channel selector with a pair of pliers, because the plastic knob was always broken?

Right. … Never mind.

Jim McGreevey, who will formally resign as New Jersey’s governor on November 15th, gathered his friends and supporters for his “farewell speech” today. He had announced his intention to resign on August 12th during what will undoubtedly be referred to as his “I am a gay American” speech.

While I suspect that, in many parts of the country, those five words will be Mr. McGreevey’s legacy, we in New Jersey know better. His problsm is not his sexual preference, but rather that his administration was rife with corruption, fostered by a rotten state government that amazingly seems to evade censure.

Mr. McGreevey’s farewell speech was apologetic.

,,,I am sorry that I have disappointed the citizens of the state of New Jersey who gave me this enormous trust. To be clear, I am not apologizing for being a gay American, but rather, for having let personal feelings impact my decision-making and for not having had the courage to be open about whom I was.

One has to assume that the reference to “personal feelings” refers to his having put his undisputedly unqualified boyfriend in charge of New Jersey’s Homeland Security a few months after September 11th.

However, there are many other “mistakes in judgment” that he did not mention. They include, his lavish family reunion in Ireland for which he tried to bill taxpayers, his free first-class trip to Puerto Rico, courtesy of the Longshoreman’s Union and its president with direct connections to organized crime members, and his association with other corrupt fundraisers (See also here and here).

Of all his “mistakes in judgment,” it was the appointment of his boyfriend to be in charge of New Jersey’s Homeland Security that led to his resignation. The night before his “I am a gay American” speech, one of his consultants gave him the bad news:

“An affair, okay, not bad… . A gay affair, that’s a little bit worse, but okay. You hired your lover as the homeland security adviser without credentials, four months after 9/11 — that’s it. You can’t withstand that. You’ll be impeached. Democrats will join Republicans.

Fortunately, he took his consultant’s advice, but he managed to do it in a way that postponed his actual resignation until November 15th, thereby depriving the citizens of New Jersey from voting for a replacement governor in this past election. The additional time between his announcement of his intention to resign and his actual resignation also permittied him time to make scores of lame duck appointments.

So, what will become of Mr. McGreevey? There was talk that he had accepted a partership in the law firm of state senator Raymond Lesniak, one of his most loyal supporters, but the stories were quickly denied by all concerned. I expect that he will write a book and make the TV talk show rounds as the “governor who was hounded out of office because of his sexual preference.”

Unfortunately for him, the U.S. Attorney knows better, and so do we.

Good riddance.

I don’t feel much like writing just about now. Maybe it’s the beautiful weather. Maybe I’m becoming weary of the post-election venom coming from the other side which, from my vantage point, seems to far outweigh in quantity and vigor the gloating coming from our side.

I need a bit of a break from it all.

That’s why spending a few hours with the Usual Suspects at the Post Lounge is what the doctor ordered. I’m quite certain that the talk won’t be political, as I assume that they too are in need of an island of time to talk about other things. The conversational soup will likely contain the following ingredients:

Football: There is almost always a game on, which produces a certain amount of hooting and hollering. It also provides an oppurtunity for the Giants and the Jets fans in the group to berate the other guy’s team.

Music: “Turn that up.” “No, turn that shit down.” “Who the hell changed the Oldies station?” “Turn the damned radio off. I brought a Ray Charles CD with me.” “Don’t any of you guys have a damned MoTown CD. I freakin’ love MoTown.”

Kids: What are they up to? How they have managed to make you happy, or piss you off over the last week?

Grandkids: For those who have them, it’s babysitting, babysitting, babysitting.

Meds: Just about all of us have this in common. It’s always nice to know who’s taking the same stuff for a “side effect check.”

Traffic: You can’t live in New Jersey and not talk about traffic.

Cigars: Who brought what today? There’ll be the usual swapping, sampling and commentary.

Liquor: “Yo, try the Gentleman Jack. It’s good stuff.” “Baloney. Too expensive. Not worth the price. Gimme a Jim Beam and soda.”

Beer: “Budweiser is the KING of beers!” “Bullshit. That stuff is kidney wash, plain and simple.”

Although “politics” will not be on the agenda, we always take time to honor and offer a toast to our men and women in the military who now don the uniforms that we all once wore.

It’s a nice place to be, and, yes, everybody knows your name.

Right now the temperature in my part of New Jersey is in the mid sixties. I took my walk today in shorts and a tee shirt and managed to get pretty sweaty in the process. Many (if not most) of the people I encountered along the way obviously dress according to the calendar, rather than the thermometer. I even saw a handful of people in wool coats! I don’t know how they avoid heat exhaustion.

So much for mindless meanderings. I’ve got some stuff to do.

It would appear that a reporter from a well known newspaper infiltrated the Blogtoberfest and took photos that made this week’s cover. Mamamontezz has the details and the cover shot.

We’ve been busted.