Hillary’s secretary, Monica Flowers, buzzes Hillary on the intercom:

Hillary: “What is it?”

Monica: “I have a resident of Staten Island on the phone for you. He says it’s really important.”

Hillary: “What island did you say?”

Monica: “Staten Island, Senator.”

Hillary: “Is that in the Caribbean?”

Monica: “Never mind. I’ll handle the call.”

Things have pretty much returned to normal around here following the dramatic increase in the number of visitors that accompanied the mention of this blog by The Democrat Party Newspaper of Record New York Times.

I must admit that it was nice to have so many people poke their heads in the door, but now we can get back to toowahking amongst ourselves.

Jon Corzine, U.S. Senator from New Jersey and gubernatorial candidate (the “Jersey Zilch”), decided to place a call to Hillary Clinton, the Senator from New York.

Riiinnnnnnnnnggggggggg

Hillary’s Secretary, Monica: “Hello. Senator Hillary Clinton’s Office. How may I help you?”

Jon: “Hi, this is Jon. May I speak with Hillary, please?”

Monica: “Jon who?”

Jon: “Oh, sorry. It’s Jon Corzine. Is she in?”

Monica: “What were you calling in reference to, sir?”

Jon: “Why are you asking me that? This is Jon Corzine, and I would appreciate it if you would connect me with Hillary.”

Monica: “Sir, I asked you that in order to determine whether someone on the Senator’s staff might be able to help you with your problem.”

Jon: “Don’t you understand? My name is Jon Corzine, and I am a member of the United States Senate.”

Monica: “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t recognize that name.”

Jon: “Look, I really don’t care whether you recognize my name. Hillary will definitely recognize me name. Now, would you please put me through?”

Monica: “Oh wait! Maybe I do know who you are. Are you the one with the beard?”

Jon: (sigh) “Yes.”

Monica: “And what state did you say you’re from?”

Jon: “New Jersey, dammit. I’ve about had it with this. Put me through to the Senator right now.”

Monica: “There is no call to be nasty, sir. I’m just doing my job here. Hold on, and I will see if Senator Clinton is available.”

Riiinnnnnnnnnggggggggg

Hillary: “Yes, Monica. What is it?”

Monica: “I have Jon Corzine on the line, and he wants to talk to you.”

Hillary: “Never heard of him. Hand him off to Madeline. She’s good at handling the pains in the asses that insist on calling me.”

Monica: “He says he’s a Senator.”

Hillary: “A Senator? Can’t be. I have no idea who he is.”

Monica: “He’s the one with the beard.”

Hillary: “Beard? Let me think. Yes, I do recall seeing a bearded guy in the chamber once or twice. What state is he from?

Monica: “He says he is from New Jersey.”

Hillary: “Jesus, what could he want? I have my waxing appointment in an hour. Can’t you figure out a way to blow him off?”

Monica: “He insisted on talking with you, and he was beginning to lose his patience.”

Hillary: “Damn. OK, put him through.”

Monica: “Mr. Corzine?”

Jon: “It’s Senator Corzine.

Monica: “Oh, I apologize. I will put you through to Senator Clinton.”

Riiinnnnnnnnnggggggggg

Hillary: “Jon!!! Nice to talk with you. How have you been?”

Jon: “I’ve been fine, thanks, and how is everything with you?”

Hillary: “Very well. You know how it is. Busy, busy, busy. What can I do for you?”

Jon: “Well, as you know, I’m running for governor of New Jersey in November.”

Hillary: “How nice. Now that you mention it, I think I read something about that.”

Jon: “I was wondering whether you might be able to make a few appearances in New Jersey with me. You know, to help me in the election.”

Hillary: “You mean you want me to take time to travel to New Jersey and make speeches and shit?”

Jon: “Yeah. You know. The regular campaign things. Parades, conventions, labor union gatherings, fund raisers. Stuff like that.”

Hillary: “What’s in it for me?”

Jon: “I don’t understand.”

Hillary: “Let’s cut through the bullshit, shall we Jon? I need running all over New Jersey with you about as much as I need a boil on my ass. I figure Jersey is a lock in ’08. So, I ask you again. What’s in it for me?”

Jon: “I could return the favor and help you with your campaigns.”

Hillary: “Didn’t you hear what I just said? If you can’t come up with something better than that, this conversation is over.”

Jon: “I have a lot of money.”

Hillary: “I’m listening.”

Jon: Well, I spent $63 million on my own campaign, and I have given more than a million more to other democrats. I could give you some”

Hillary: “Now you’re talking Jon. How much are we talking about here?”

Jon: “I was thinking something along the lines of a million.”

Hillary: “A million? Are you shitting me? You just said that you spent $63 million on your own campaign in a goddamned Democrat state! I’m Hillary goddamned Clinton, for Chrissakes. You’re wasting my time with an offer like that.”

Jon: “Well, I could up the amount to four million.”

Hillary: “You’re wasting my time. I have more important things to attend to today. Good bye.”

Jon: “Wait!! Before you hang up in me, why don’t you tell me how much money it would take.”

Hillary:

Jon:

Hillary: “Twenty-five million.”

Jon: “Twenty-five mil? Jesus, that’s quite a bit of money. Give me a day or so to work up a counteroffer, OK?”

Hillary: “Counteroffer my ass. Call me when you have the check.”

Jon: “I was sort of hoping that you’d be a bit more reasonable.”

Hillary: “Piss off!”

Jon: “What?”

Hillary: “You heard me. You come up with the money, and not one goddamned penny less, and I’ll have the lames in New Jersey believing that you’re the best thing that has happened to that shithole state since Thomas Edison. Now, like I said … Piss off!”

click

Jon: Bitch!

Hillary: Asshole!

OK, suppose you’re a 63 year old founder and former CEO of a huge telecommunications company and you’ve been convicted of overseeing the largest corporate fraud in U.S. history and sentenced to a 25 year prison term, which means that under the applicable sentencing guidelines you will be in jail until you are 85 years old. Let’s further suppose that you have three months before you have to report to jail.

What do you do?

Hellloooooooooooo South America.

My friend’s fifteen-year old nephew is up from Florida. In fact, he and his mom were at the Fourth of July Bash. Being the only fifteen-year old in attendance, he brought his guitar with him to occupy his time. His guitar is a Strat knockoff, but it played nicely and sounded OK through one of those tiny carry-around amps. The problem was that he really couldn’t play. Turns out that he is trying to learn some stuff from a book with no one to give him any pointers.

He’s a nice kid (and can draw and paint like a professional artist), but he’s very, very quiet and shy. So I sat with him for about ten minutes and showed him how to play a few basic chords. I said, “Too bad you don’t live up here, I could teach you how to play that thing. You won’t be Chet Atkins or Eric Clapton, but you’ll be able to play damned near any song.” Because he is so shy, he surprised me when he said that he would be here for three more weeks and asked whether I would be able to give him “a couple lessons.”

I said, “Of course, I will, but let’s not call them ‘lessons,’ because that sounds too much like school. How about we get together and play a bit, and I’ll show you some stuff.”

Well, tonight, I got around to bringing him over the house. After about two hours, I had him playing basic open chords and doing twelve bar blues tunes using bar chords. His fingering is still a little clumsy, but that will straighten itself out with more playing. He really wants to learn, so I am certain that this week he will play hell out of the stuff I showed him.

I’ve “taught” at least two other people to play well enough to drag the axe to a party and have fun with it. If you have an ear for music (you absolutely must be able to hear when you are screwing up) and a basic sense of rhythm, it’s not that hard to play well enough to get by. Once I teach him a couple basic hand positions and a few variations on that theme, the world will be his oyster. He should be able to play damned near anything.

I hope to have two more sessions with him before he goes home.

For what it’s worth, I think that it is better to first learn to have fun PLAYING the instrument and to be completely comfortable with it before proceeding with the rigors of real music study. I’ve never known anyone who had any fun struggling along following the notes to “Little Brown Jug” from a Mel Bay guitar instruction book.

I view the process of learning to play a musical instrument to be much like learning to drive a car with a standard transmission. Learning to drive a stick shift right off the bat is a bitch. It is better to first learn on an automatic so that you can become comfortable driving the car. Then, once you’re at home behind the wheel, you can concentrate on learning how to shift without having to worry about keeping the car on the road, stopping and the rest of the skills necessary to pilot a moving car.

I am determined to send that young man back to Florida as a passable guitar player. If he wants to proceed from there, he can find a real teacher.

Developing.

Peter Applebome has written a piece for the New York Times that puts the spotlight on The Carnival of the New Jersey Bloggers, the brainchild of Enlighten New Jersey.

The state is small enough that whether you live in Bergen or Hunterdon you still have an opinion on the best pizza or sausage and pepper sandwich at the Jersey Shore, drive on the same turnpike, and both contribute to the Jersey Joke syndrome and bristle at it. The politics are so obviously dysfunctional everyone shares everyone else’s pain. Everyone has an attitude. And over the past decades, almost without people realizing it, the pop culture New Jersey of Springsteen/”The Sopranos”/”Garden State,” etc., has changed the way people think about their state.

Yep, “attitude” is never in short supply in Jersey.

Read the whole thing.

UPDATE: Hyperlinks have been added for all the blogs mentioned, including this one, thank you.

On a recent stroll through the produce section of the supermarket, it occurred to me that by virtue of spending my entire life in Northern Jersey, I am agriculturally challenged. It is quite humbling to spend a lifetime buying fruits and vegetables, but having no idea about how they look to the person who grew and harvested them.

So, for the heck of it, I compiled a list of fruits and vegetables that I have seen while they are growing, and things that I have never seen on the vine, on a tree, or in the ground. As you can see below, I definitely am agriculturally challenged, but it is not quite as bad as I had originally suspected.

Fruits and Vegetables I Have Seen Growing
Note: All seen in Jersey, except the citrus fruits and coconuts, which I saw on numerous vacations to Florida.

Apples
Corn
Carrots
Celery
Corn
Cucumbers
Dill
Eggplant
Cantaloupe
Gourds
Peas
Peppers
Pumpkins
Radishes
Soybeans
Squash
Strawberries
Basil
Tomatoes
Cherries
Peaches
Oranges
Lemons
Limes
Coconuts

Fruits and Vegetables I Have Never Seen Growing

Potatoes
Beets
Lettuce
Cabbage
Peanuts
Pecans
Avocados
Watermelons
Plums
Asparagus
Broccoli
Brussels Sprouts
Cauliflower
Escarole
Garlic
Leeks
Mushrooms (other than wild)
Onions
Casaba Melons
Honeydew Melons
Spinach
Turnips
Yams
Beans (kidney, lima, garbanzo, or navy)
Bananas
Mangos
Currants
Blueberries (and Jersey ranks second among the states for production of these)
Papayas
Kiwis
Pineapples (and I was in Hawaii too!)
Plums
Grapefruits (missed those in Florida)
Olives
Pomegranates
Cranberries (and Jersey ranks third among the states for production of these)
Pears
Walnuts
Pecans
Hazelnuts
Wheat

Seems I should put on shoes that I don’t mind getting dirty and travel a bit more to places where the things I like to eat are grown. I will, however, leave the farming to those who know what they’re doing. Besides, I have delicate hands, and manual labor gives me a rash.

It was in the nineties here today, and I spent the day flailing away at golf balls playing golf in the heat. I drank copious amounts of water and afterwards had a couple “Transfusions” (vodka, ginger ale and grape juice in a cocktail shaker), but I still was ragged out. I had intended to come home and just crash.

However, I had forgotten that the new guitar was scheduled to arrive today, and arrive it did. So much for crashing.

It was packed extremely well, so for me, getting it out of the box looked a bit like a W.C. Fields routine. The effort was worth it, because it is a beauty. It has a great feel and a wonderful tone. It is everything Rob said it was and more. He offered to buy it from me, if I didn’t like it, but it is definitely not for sale.

Thanks again to Rob for hooking me up with this gitfiddle and to Rob’s buddy, Willy, of Music and Things for a level of personal service that one does not often encounter.

I’ll be doing a bit more pickin’ before I get around to crashing tonight.

UPDATE: A commenter asked for pictures. We aim to please.

I posted pictures of the guitar here, but they are small. Here is a larger picture that I found on the web.

This week’s Carnival of the New Jersey Bloggers is up. This week’s hostess is Cripes, Suzette. The Carnival was created by Enlighten New Jersey, and it provides a place where Jersey Bloggers can strut their stuff.

Go read, and you’ll see that we don’t write with an accent. Well, most of us don’t, and, besides, we really don’t even have an accent.

Next week’s Carnival will be hosted by Sluggo Needs a Nap.

I have been happily sipping (neat, of course) 1792 Ridgemont Reserve single barrel bourbon, which was a Father’s Day gift. This wonderful elixir, which is named for the year Kentucky joined the Union, is 93.7 proof and is as smoooooooth as it is tasty.

In Kentucky, where bourbon is king, 1792 Ridgemont Reserve has been the official toasting bourbon of the Kentucky Bourbon Festival for two years in a row.

Jimbo gives it five stars.