If you are considering writing a letter full of dipshittery to the editor of the New York Times, please be aware that Sluggo is watching.

I’ll be away from the keyboard this evening in order to go here to see “The Drawer Boy,” a play starring John Mahoney, the actor who played “Frasier’s” dad on TV.

An evening of theater – farookin’ civilized.

Liv’s Chapter Five is up, and it’s an ass-kicker –literally!

For those who need a catch-up, here are the previous chapters:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

I do not envy Sadie at a Fistful of Fortnights, because she has the task of pulling it all together for the final chapter next week. Go Sadie!!

As hard as I try to avoid seeing any coverage of the Michael Jackson trial, it is impossible to completely avoid snippets of it, including the obligatory footage of Mr. Jackson’s entering and exiting the courthouse. I could not help but notice Mr. Jackson’s “Umbrella Guy,” the person on his payroll whose job it is to see that the minute Mr. Jackson leaves a place with a roof, he is protected by an umbrella held by the Umbrella Guy.

I got to wondering what it must be like to know that your job is to open an umbrella and hold it over someone’s head for the short walk between a building and a limousine. We, therefore, had one of our many PRS operatives track down the Umbrella Guy as he waited for Mr. Jackson to emerge from the courthouse the other day.

PRS: “Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Jackson’s Umbrella Guy?”

Umbrella Guy: “Yeah, what tipped you off?”

PRS: “Well, to tell you the truth, we have seen you on television, but we also could not help but notice that you’re standing here on a sunny day with an umbrella in your hand.”

Umbrella Guy: “So, what do you want?”

PRS: “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Umbrella Guy: “Can’t you see I’m working?”

PRS: “Well, at the moment, you’re just standing here with an umbrella in your hand.”

Umbrella Guy: “Shows what you know. I’m on call. In fact, I’m on call 24/7. I even have a beeper ‘n shit. But, OK, as long as it’s only a few questions, and I can’t talk about the case.”

PRS: “I understand. Thanks. I’m curious. Do you perform any other functions for Mr. Jackson?”

Umbrella Guy: “No, I’m a specialist. I only handle the umbrella work.”

PRS: “Do you at least open doors for Mr. Jackson?”

Umbrella Guy: “No, Mr. Jackson has a Door Guy.”

PRS: “The Door Guy’s a specialist too?”

Umbrella Guy: “Of course.”

PRS: “Does the ‘umbrella work’ you speak of require any training?”

Umbrella Guy: “Absolutely, I had to spend two months as an apprentice to the former Umbrella Guy.”

PRS: “What happened to the former Umbrella Guy?”

Umbrella Guy: “He was promoted.”

PRS: “Promoted? What does he do now?”

Umbrella Guy: “He’s the Door Guy.”

PRS: “I see. Had you been promoted into the position of Umbrella Guy, or were you hired into that position?”

Umbrella Guy: “Are you kidding? I don’t think anyone has ever been hired as an Umbrella Guy. It took me several years to be promoted to this job.”

PRS: “What was your job before you became the Umbrella Guy?”

Umbrella Guy: “I spent about seven years as the Napkin Guy.”

PRS: “Did you say, ‘Napkin Guy’?”

Umbrella Guy: “Yeah. Something wrong with your hearing?”

PRS: “No, no. I just wanted to make sure I heard you right. What were your duties as Mr. Jackson’s Napkin Guy?”

Umbrella Guy: “Pretty much what you’d expect. My job was to stand next to Mr. Jackson while he ate or drank anything and wipe his mouth as needed.”

PRS: “Wow, did you also have to feed him?”

Umbrella Guy: “No, he has …”

PRS: “Lemme guess … a Feeding Guy?”

Umbrella Guy: “Now you’re catching on.”

PRS: “Fascinating. Were you ever the Feeding Guy?”

Umbrella Guy: “No, I was promoted directly from Napkin Guy to Umbrella Guy.”

PRS: “You’ve been employed by Mr. Jackson for how long?”

Umbrella Guy: “Lemme think … Three years as the Umbrella Guy, seven years as the Napkin Guy, and five years at my first job with Mr. Jackson. That makes fifteen years. Yep, fifteen years.”

PRS: “What was your job for the first five years that you were employed by Mr. Jackson?”

Umbrella Guy: “I was the Toilet Paper Guy.”

PRS: “You were what?”

Umbrella Guy: “I was the Toilet Paper Guy. It was my job to …..”

PRS: “OK, thanks for your time.”

Umbrella Guy: “That’s it?”

PRS: “Have a nice day.”

Enlighten New Jersey calls our attention to the financial mismanagement that runs rampant in this state, which, according to our Governor (the gentleman who replaced Jim McGreevey – You remember Jim McGreevey – It was in all the papers), the state is teetering on bankruptcy. Take, for example, the City of Newark’s having spent $1,748,040 for ten garbage trucks. And, where did the City of Newark get the money to pay for the garbage trucks? Why, from Homeland Security Funds, of course. The use of Homeland Security Funds for this purpose occurred at the same time that Newark is considering spending $210 million on a hockey arena. You can’t make this shit up.

Of course, one of the reasons that the state is in such dire financial straits is its massive expenditures on public sector employees. Enlighten New Jersey points to SmadaNek, which analyzed the growth of public sector employment as a function of increases in population.

The figures reveal that, nationally, the country added one public sector employee for every 25 new Americans. The states bordering on New Jersey added only one public sector employee for every 235 of their new residents. Now, hang on to your hat. New Jersey added one new public sector employee for every six new residents. Tell me that doesn’t make you want to barf. At least 1,000 of these positions are patronage jobs handed out by Jim McGreevey and his democrat buddies to the tune of $50 million, and, according to Republican candidate for Governor, John Murphy, none of these positions has been cut in order to meet the state’s financial shortfall.

The state is a national joke. We had a former Senator “decide not to run” because he was clearly up to his ass in corruption. He was replaced on the ballot at the last minute by the cadaverous and thoroughly contemptible, Frank Lautenberg, with the blessing of the New Jersey Supreme Court when it turned a blind eye to a violation of unambiguous election regulations. Our other Senator, the rich but ineffectual Jon Corzine, has decided that what he really wants to do is be the governor, and he has enlisted Cadaverous Frank as the Chairman of his campaign, effectively leaving New Jersey with no representation in the Senate between now and November.

Our former governor resigned in disgrace after numerous scandals, the topper being his appointment of his supremely unqualified boyfriend to be in charge of New Jersey’s Office of Homeland Security. Within the last few weeks, eleven politicians and government officials were arrested by the FBI for extortion and bribery, while the New Jersey Attorney General’s contribution to rectifying the state’s horrible mess was to swoop down on Blockbuster for deceptive advertising.

Despite all this, the majority of the voters continue to vote the same cruds into office, thereby proving beyond peradventure that it is possible to go through life with one’s head up one’s ass without suffocating.

I’d like to say a few words about Catfish, the person, not the aquatic scavenger.

I had the good fortune to have met Catfish last October at the Blogtoberfest. He showed up with Rob, his longtime friend, after some of the other attendees and I had already had a few “warmer-uppers” — for me, just enough to take the edge off the flight from Jersey and the ride from Atlanta to Helen, Georgia. I had been told that Catfish and Rob were on a mission to collect Mamamontezz at the airport (long story). When they showed up, I had recognized Rob from the pictures he has posted on his site in the past, but I had never met Catfish.

As I sat on the balcony of the motel drinking my bourbon on the rocks, the man who had been in the truck with Rob walked over to where I was sitting to grab a beer. He was a big man, heavily tattooed, and he was sporting a ponytail, jeans, and one of those chains that motorcycle badasses wear.

Not knowing whether to expect a grunt or a smack in the head, I extended my hand and said, “You must Catfish. I’m Jim from New Jersey.” Instead of getting smacked in the head, or hearing a grunt, i heard a beautiful Southern accented voice say, “Hi, Jim (pronounced JEEY-um). Glad to meet you.” It took all of ten seconds for me to decide, I like this guy. He is a gentleman. And, he has a voice that would make many radio people envious, with a Southern accent that completely takes the edge off “proper” English. I love to listen to him talk.

Catfish has a blog (set up by the gracious,wise, and talented Mamamontezz), in which he demonstrates the unique ability to write the way he speaks. His entries, like poetry, should be read aloud, and, if you’re lucky enough to have met him, you can hear him “speak” the entry.

Lately, he has been writing about Harris Neck, the county in Georgia where he has just moved into his newly completed home. Here is a sample:

Harris Neck has a great history, Sherman’s march on Georgia was here and back during WWII, the government took the land from these people and made a landing, runway for airplanes. After many a year, the land was given back to those landowners. It took a long time and two lawyers and a bunch of money, it was recovered by Bobby Hill, a big shot black lawyer and a politician, died of drugs a few years back. Harris Neck is 45 miles south of Savannah Ga. Great people and mostly rednecks, we should all fit in with these guys. They all love to shoot guns, drink, take dope, fish, hunt and raise a little hell, nice people. When I get it all finished, I want all of you to come and have a blast with us. I got a new hot tub, plenty of guns and ammo, food and booze.

Here’s more on the nearby “airport.”

Last night I was watching tv and I heard a small airplane fly over my house. About three miles from me is a gated subdivision, it has it’s own runway and landing strip, ex-pilots live in there. There is about 35 houses and all of them has a hanger next to their house. The houses are very big and looks like all of the people that lives there are very rich. The landing strip does not have lights, I heard that a lot of coke comes in there. Well, this plane last bight, flew over my house and landed down the road, I wonder if it was drugs? Who knows and who cares.

Finally, a bit more on Harris Neck County history:

This county is funny with some very colorful people that you will ever meet. We had a whore house here back in the 60’s and 70’s, it was a truck stop, that did not sell any gas or oil for cars and trucks. They sold beer and pussy. It was owned by the sheriff Tom… .

If you’re not reading Catfish, you ought to, and if you haven’t met Catfish, you should. He’s a helluva guy.

Still, I wouldn’t want to piss him off.

Are you old enough to have received tuition bills for your kid’s education that roll your eyes to the back of your cruller? I am, and I have. I recall getting bills from daughter’s college (a small fancy schmancy college that serves Designer Water) for about a zillion dollars per credit for a course that was called something like “The Medium of Movement.” Huh???

As such, I pity the parents of a kid at Centre College of Kentucky who get their next tuition bill for a zillion dollars so that their freshman kid can take a course called “The Café and Public Life, ” which is described as follows:

The café has long been a storied place for creating public life, from convivial social groups to intellectual salons to revolutionary cells. We will study how the café is a “third place” – not home, not work – where people from different social groups can meet and mix. Caffeine, especially in coffee, tea, and chocolate, has fueled a modern public sphere that promotes hard work and clear thinking. We will make several field trips to different kinds of cafés to see for ourselves how they can be incubators of public life, and to actively create critical discourse ourselves by talking to café regulars.

When I was a freshman in college, my courses were as follows:

English Composition
Biology
Advanced German
Psychology
History of Western Civilization

There may have been one more that I cannot recall at the moment. I do, however, remember that those courses kept my ass glued to a desk chair for five hours per night after the last class of the day. Taking a course that involved hanging out in a coffee joint was not an option.

Would I have signed up for a course that involved sitting around, drinking coffee and grooving on the ambience? You bet your ass. Would I have learned anything worth a shit? As my Constitutional Law Professor from Maine used to say, “To ahhhsk the question, is to ahhhnswer it.” NO!!!!

Mr. Scriblerus, of The Idiom, has tracked down the details of this edumacational joke, and Black Hole of tuition dollars, including the most interesting course syllabus. Go check it out.

Today, it is my turn to tend bar at the Post, and, as always, the bartender is responsible for the food. Today’s fare will be chili con carne and rice, with the following available to taste: shredded cheddar, chopped onions, sour cream, hot sauce, black olives, cornbread and tortilla chips. Dessert will be chocolate covered donuts. It all goes well with cold beer (except maybe the donuts) and good friends.

Speaking of the Post Bar, that is where the Jersey Blogmeet (click the button on the left) will be held. It will not be held in the “hall,” but rather in a real bar. However, unlike holding the thing in a place like Bennigan’s or TGIF, the Bar will be open only to Blogmeet attendees, and also unlike those other places, the bar will be “open.” Food will be catered. Check it out.

Later.

And the question is, “Yo, Jimbo, where on your ‘Ten-Point Give-a-Shit Scale” does the Academy Awards Ceremony fall?”

The idea of watching a gathering of overly moneyed, overly dressed, overly narcissistic, overly self-righteous, and overly shallow elitist asswipes pat one another on the back leaves me cold.

I’d sooner watch a test pattern.

I’ve got a bit of Life 101 to attend to today, and later we will be travelling to a part of Jersey that is a bit more rural than it is around here (e.g. more pickup trucks) to attend my nephew’s birthday party. It’s not like we’ll be wearing party hats and stuff, as he is a strapping young man (and my Godson – really), who was married last year, and he and his most excellent bride are treating this as a combination birthday party and house warming.

I’m looking forward to a couple beers and a few laughs.

Later.