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Yesterday I bought a couple of tomatoes. I shouldn’t have: They were mushy and nearly flavorless. It was like eating catsup-tinged oatmeal.

Or maybe I’m just comparing them against the love apples I ate for a couple of weeks while visiting my dad, which would be unfair. Ain’t no tomato like a Jersey tomato.

Most people perceive New Jersey as merely a bedroom community for Noo Yawk, a state defined by traffic-jammed highways, obnoxious accents and, thanks to the creators of “The Sopranos” and “Jersey Shore,” organized crime and tippling imbeciles.

Fact is, New Jersey’s motto is “The Garden State.” We South Jerseyites considered North Jersey “The Garbage State.”


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I know, I know: You already have too many T-shirts. But do you have one that says, “The Constitution — I read it for the articles“?

Or how about, “250th Annual Zombie Run For The Cure,” which shows silhouettes of runners being chased by the walking dead?

Now you can — and free of charge, if the random number generator likes you best.


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Farm chore of the week: spreading fertilizer around 1,600 young Christmas trees. Dad and I did some today and some yesterday. More await us on Friday. Yay.

The late-summer sun felt plenty warm to me, and the humidity had it beat by a couple of percentage points. My bandana got quite a workout; not only did I wipe my face fairly often, I used the blue hanky to mark my spot in a row. When I walked back from the fertilizer cart, I always knew which was the last tree I’d surrounded with 14-7-14 granules.

That bandana cost me a buck several years ago, and has been in my backpack ever since. Who carries a pocket handkerchief any more? I do, and you should, too. It’s incredibly useful for a number of tasks.


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Remember my previous post about money-lending? Here’s an update — and it isn’t pretty.


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I have never written about Sept. 11. I still don’t know what to say except that I cannot forgive myself for my initial reaction:


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