New York is far too big to be associated with any one man or
woman. Who dare claim it? Ridiculous.
Impossible. But New Jersey? The pool of people who come to mind are more
finite. I’m afraid that it is Chris
Christie’s big mug that comes to mind to me this morning as I drive through
Paramus. Chris is being badgered again
about Bridge-Gate. Sure sounds like he
knew all about what was going on, as we’d always guessed and he is forceful, as
always, in his denials.
I hit a
pothole. I think of Chris Christie. I see a rusty bridge. I think of Chris Christie. I’d like this to stop but I hear his comment
from the debates in my head: “that would
be rude even in New Jersey.” Who else
can I turn to? Tom Kean? I met him once. Patti Smith? I think of the Joe Piscopo bit about “which
exit?”
And
oddly, and as always, I think of Adrenaline Overdose. I can’t name a band member, I’m afraid. But I know the lyrics to “New Trans Am” and
“Mischief Night” and “Suburbia” like they were recorded yesterday. I saw
the two-guitar hardcore speed demons play in 1982 or so. With lines like “mindless violence, we just want
to hurt you!" Mischief Night wasn't very redeemable but they were authentic and familiar perhaps in a way not unlike the governor.
There were many I’m sure, but the only New Jersey hardcore band I can
remember from that time is AOD. They
sang about the Paramus mall. I am going
past the Paramus mall.
AOD
were troubadours from a time gone by.
They can’t be blamed for this sorry patchwork of highways that connect
to other highways, all at the convenience of Manhattan. I’ve had to change five highways to get from
the New York State Throughway to New Jersey’s major airport. I haven’t once seen a little airplane picture
that would be customary in most cities of the world. I know.
The New York side isn’t any better.
And I keep hearing Chris Christie’s bitchy, presumptuous lilt as I
search for someone to blame. I don't think AOD voted for Chris. But who knows? Thirty-four years is a long time.
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