Only the best and brightest run for office in New Jersey

New Jersey recently held a special election to replace our Senator, Frank Lautenberg, who died in office unexpectedly at the age of 167. His constituents never saw it coming but the candidates weren’t caught off guard. They leapt into action before rigor mortis set in on poor Senator Lautenberg’s corpse. We don’t mourn for long in the Garden State, especially if there’s power to be grabbed.

Instead of waiting a few weeks for the November 2nd elections, which is what any rational, sane municipality would have done, the State spent $12 million to hold a special election. There’s a lot of bullshitty reasons being bandied about over why this happened but the truth is that our illustrious Governor, Chris Christie, who has presidential aspirations, didn’t want anything distracting from his reelection coronation. This was a fairly high profile Senatorial election and it would have hogged some of the spotlight, so he moved it out of his way. And that’s the truth.

The election was won by Corey Booker, a charismatic 44-year old with presidential aspirations. Does EVERY politician in New Jersey have delusions of grander? Running against Booker was a right-wing zealot named Steve Lonegan. During the campaign, when asked to comment on the Affordable Care Act, he said, “I have no interest in paying for your health care. I’d hate to see you get cancer, but that’s your problem, not mine.” Nice. He also said that being white is now “a handicap” and he made multiple campaign appearances with Sarah Palin, which is never good for your credibility.

Lonegan further endeared himself to the populous by accusing Booker of being a closeted homosexual. He made a bizarre statement claiming that there are rumors “…about how he likes to go out at three o’clock in the morning for a manicure and a pedicure.” I have a bunch of gay friends and to my knowledge, none of them have ever gotten a manny/peddy at that hour. To establish his macho bona fides, Lonegan went on to say, “As a guy, I personally like being a guy.” He lost the election but, FRIGHTENINGLY, was able to garnish 44% of the vote.

But those weren’t our only two choices on the ballot. Also running was this guy:


That’s right. The Alimony Reform Now party. Here’s a guy who got burned in his divorce settlement but isn’t taking it lying down. “I’ll fix them bitches once and for all. I’ll become a U.S. Senator and gut the alimony laws. They’ll get nuthin’ when I’m done with em’.” Mr. Roll-With-The-Punches, he ain’t.

If that’s a little too angry for you, you could’ve always voted for this guy:


The Ed the Barber party?! What does that even MEAN?! What’s his platform? Hair restoration for all? How did these two clowns even make it onto the ballot?! Don’t you have to get, like, tens of thousands of signatures in order to be added? I’m going to run under the I Couldn’t Be Any Worse party.

I voted for Ed the Barber. Admit it, you would have, too.

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The Bacon Mobile made an appearance at the local outdoor fall festival. Hayrides. A corn maze (or, as my daughter pointed out, a maize maze). The usual. And this culinary delight. Mmmmmm. Bacon.


Only $10 bucks for chocolate covered bacon!? I’ll take two, please.

On Drinking (not a sermon)

I had a half-finished post about an unexpected evening of drunkenness, noteworthy because of its rarity. I’m a lousy drinker. Alcohol has an almost poisonous effect on me. Then I read a post from a guy who just celebrated his third year of sobriety. I meditated on the dichotomy between these two conditions.

I met a friend for an after-work drink at Wolfgang’s Steakhouse on Park Avenue. I drank two tumblers of Maker’s Mark on the rocks. When I left I was numb from the waist down and couldn’t feel my feet touch the sidewalk. It was just two lousy drinks but liquor has never been my friend. Girls I dated always drank me under the table. When you’ve got a hot date, all you want to hear is an alcohol-fueled “take me” whispered in your ear. More often than not, what I heard was an incredulous, “Are you drunk already?!” So embarrassing!

I left the restaurant and had to take a bus back to New Jersey. I somehow made it to Port Authority and spent the next 1:15 in armageddon. My guts were twisted in a tight knot. I have a sheath for my umbrella so that if it’s wet, the contents of my travel bag stay dry. I held it in my hand the entire ride home to catch my sick (which, thankfully, never happened). I plugged in my ear buds, closed my eyes and listened to Vaughn Williams’ The Lark Ascending over and over to try and calm down. When I got home I collapsed on the futon in our home office. Awful.

I laid there in a fetal position praying for death’s merciful kiss and wondered how in the world anyone could possibly become addicted to alcohol. As it is, I’m ruined for Maker’s Mark. I’ll probably throw-up if I ever smell it again. I can only surmise that there’s a chemical reaction that occurs when you drink and that that reaction isn’t the same for everyone. I’m thankful that I have been afflicted with the lesser of two evils.

There’s a pretty good chance that my digestive system was torn asunder by this:


Do you know what that is? It’s BACON, bitches! For real. I ordered it off the appetizer menu while sitting at the bar. A gigantic, half inch thick, $5 slice of bacon. Sweet Mother of Baby Jesus it was scrumptious! But I wouldn’t recommend washing it down with a glass (x2) of Maker’s Mark. See that knife? Anytime a waiter puts a knife like that in front of you, you can rest assured that something great is about to happen.

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I wasn’t so inebriated that I couldn’t stop and appreciate a decent Empire State Building/ 34th Street sunset. I was dazzled but I think it might have been the drink.