Recently, acting Governor Codey squashed the state slogan. A little history about the fallen catchphrase. The last slogan many in the Garden State remember: “New Jersey and you. Perfect together.” That one went nationwide. Not a bad slogan, and loads better than the replacement the Governor ditched: “New Jersey: We’ll win you over.” Win, eh? That’s certainly the wrong verb. I see now why it had to go.

In what may be Governor Codey’s finest hour, he asked the people, and they responded. Here’s a partial list:
1) “We’re All You Need.”
2) “New Jersey Loves Somebody, Anybody, Everybody.”
3) “What’s It To You?”
4) “Big Hair, Big Heart, Big Fun.”
5) “Leave Your Heart in San Francisco & Take Your Wallet to New Jersey.”

Props to number five for being the most direct. Number three is the most representative of the Jersey ‘tude. As for number four, that’s nostalgia talking. Big hair days fell during the first Clinton Administration.

My favorite suggestion: “Most of Our Elected Officials Have Not Been Indicted.”

I love this place.

Read more about the controversy, and check some of the banned suggestions.

Note to self: when a seventy pound cat prowls the street, do not mistake said creature for a ‘kitty’.

And where does one purchase a serval or ocelot exactly?

Not since their pact with Germany in World War II has Italy faced such dark times. Unlike the Nazis, the current standoff may end with even greater casualties. And it’s all for pizza. Oh, and lots of money.

Euro driven inflation has pushed the street price of pizza to an all time high. Costly enough that many natives have forsaken dining out and a cultural delight.

To quote Winston Churchill, “this is an indignity of which I will not put.” Pizza is a national treasure in most any country. Because the doughy, tomato sauce, cheese-y goodness is the only dish the Atkins plan offers no meaningful substitutes, I miss the dish with passion. Sorry, Doctor Bob. Eating the toppings off is a poor workaround.

But let us presume a lack of controlled carb crust does not bother the average Italian. That said, the decline of pizza an insidious problem. A world with expensive pizza is like a world where one needs a credit card to eat at McDonald’s. Wait a second, McDonald’s accepts credit cards.

Italy, you stand alone in this crisis.

More notes from the weekend: library sales attract ugly book trolls, usually older men who resell their purchases on the Internet. Certainly, this excludes me. I’m at least average looking.

Book trolls are ugly not by classic definitions – many appear quite normal during the week. Theirs is a wretchedness that lingers beneath the skin – always waiting, always vigilant – and when the sale opens, out goes Grandpa and in rushes Darth Vader. Do not be fooled by the balding, overweight and unwashed exteriors. These are men who demand free samples of Girl Scout cookies then laugh at the poor girl who refuses.

Just how bad can retired guys at a friends of the library book sale behave? A peek at their canon reveals much about the species.

Troll rule number one: shop alone. Whether this is because the trolls have eaten all their friends or prefer hoarding books over sharing with another of their ilk, the song is the same. Trolls roll solo. On the surface, this appears harmless. It is an illusion.

Add in rule number two – stack all finds in boxes near tables where people are browsing available books – and the evil becomes clearer. Besides shrinking the aisle space, regular shoppers often think the boxes hold books still available for purchase.

The oversight predicates a favorite troll activity, and rings in the third, deadly rule: when others touch your boxes, explode. Yell at them like a drunk scolds a dog. A simple explanation in a quiet voice does not make the point. Be senseless. Be loud. Be cruel. The shopper must be humiliated, for all to see and hear.

You might ask yourself, how can I work a library sale without turning into a book troll? Like the trolls have rules, a conscientious seller must as well. Three points provide a solid foundation.

1) Shower the morning of the sale and wear clean, stain free clothes. This says to the world, world I sleep in a bed, not upon a stack of moldy books.
2) Bring along a friend. A cohort can guard your book fort in a remote corner. When you finish, guard your own books and let them shop a bit. Be proud you have a book buddy. Their presence says to everyone, hey, I don’t eat my friends. At least one survived.
3) Identify the book trolls early on in the sale, and their stashes. Carve a wide arc around both. After all, they are hostile and smelly.