On The Garden State, Et Cetera

I hate politics and politicians. As the next election draws near, every day provides some little political annoyance that brings me ever closer to the brink of a one-man bloody revolution. From the deceitful, duplicitous, lying sack of shit, faghag douchebag Speaker of the House, to the deceitful, duplicitous, lying sack of shit, quasi-Christian crackers supposedly diametrically opposed to her (who dislike Obama not because of but despite their bigotry), not one of them seems worth the time it takes to listen. It is a sad state of affairs.

One noteworthy exception is the governor of New Jersey, who has shown himself to be forthright in the execution of the difficult duties his job requires him to perform.

He has made many enemies in the process, but I suspect he has made many more friends. He seems to be sincere in his love for his state and his belief that he can help improve New Jersey and the quality of life of its citizens. That he has taken (and shrugged off) so much flak from such parasitic worthless fucks as teachers unions is proof that he's onto something (and is man enough to see it through). Mrs. Peter has family members who live in New Jersey; my love for them compels me to pray for Governor Christie's success.

New Jersey has been in my thoughts a lot lately. The latest episode of South Park (which was spot-on if somewhat over the top) brought it to the forefront of my mind. I've been to the state twice for Thanksgiving, in 2006 and 2007; I'll be heading there again in a few weeks. Maybe I've not been to the right neighborhoods or towns, but I've never seen anything there like the garbage featured on the reality show. Not that I'm complaining, but it's kind of like attending a NASCAR race and not witnessing even one wreck; it's almost unnatural.

Flashback sidetrack: When my family was in England in '76-'77, my parents bought me a book of jokes; anyone familiar with raw provincial British humor will know where I'm coming from here. One of the stupid jokes in the book that I vaguely recall had Count Dracula throwing his victims from the roof of a tall building in an Italian neighborhood. Someone on the sidewalk below was singing, "Drained wops keep falling on my head..." Another gem was: Why did King Arthur not allow the chinaman to join the Knights of the Round Table? He didn't want a chink in his armor... I recall my parents using the book as an illustration of how not to speak (and think).

I have been fortunate enough during my stays there and in my dealings with people elsewhere who were from Jersey, that I can honestly say I've only met one I didn't like. Mrs. Peter and I were en route to NJ in '06. Some brilliant asshole in the Delaware DOT had a stretch of highway under construction in the thick of holiday travel; the road went from six lanes just past the toll booths to one(!) lane in about one mile. We were caught in that jam for over four hours. We were in the through lane, just about where the left lane ended. Some lowlife piece of shit with Jersey tags came in at the last second and more or less forced Mrs. Peter to let him in. I almost took him up on his invitation to step out of the car; Mrs. Peter wouldn't let me ruin our honeymoon ...