Yes, after predicting an event that would possibly eclipse Ocean City’s Night in Venice (which, strangely enough, is held mostly at nighttime), the six or so decorated boats cruised past our house in bright sunlight, just a few minutes after 7:00 p.m. It may as well have been 7:00 a.m., what’s the difference? At least the glare on the water would have been diminished. The guests on our porch, some of whom had traveled 40 miles or so, thought that we had obviously seen the “non-lighted” division, if there were such a thing. There wasn’t, we confirmed, when the fireworks began in the Crest at 9:30. The kids next door started crying, after being promised the spectacle of boats decorated with Christmas lights. They apparently had watched 2007’s event.

Organizers apparently reasoned that in December, around the time of the real Christmas, it gets dark at about five o’clock or so, therefore surmising that a seven o’clock start would occur during total darkness. Someone apparently forgot to explain to them about the birds and the bees and the equinox.

This now leads to concerns about other events scheduled for the Wildwoods. Will a crowd turn out for the Around the Island Row on August 19th , only to see lifeguards racing along in power boats? Will the Fabulous 50’s Weekend feature songs from the 70.s? Will they start having the Friday Night Fireworks at noon? I suppose, in Wildwood, almost anything is possible, with the exception of streets somewhat better than the roads in the Baja 500. The only way Wildwood will finally get decent streets will be if they start paving them with concrete. Maybe then they can stop the talk about the stupid high rise hotels.

“Uh, yeah, I’d like to talk to the weather dude,” I responded.

“Okay, just a minute.”

“This is the weather dude. How may I help you?”

“I just wanted to let you know that it’s going to be hot and hazy for three more days,” I said.

“Yes,” he replied, sounding a little irritated. “I know that. I’m the weather dude, and they pay me to know these things.”

“Oh,” I said, “Well then why did you ask?”

“What do you mean? Why would I ask you what the weather is going to be?”

“That, I don’t know,” I said. “But on the last promo, you asked, ‘How long is this heat wave going to last?’ I thought you wanted to know.”

“I just meant that I was going to tell you. I wasn’t really asking a question.”

“Then you shouldn’t really have asked a question,” I said. “I thought you actually wanted someone to tell you.”

“No, I didn’t want someone to tell me. I didn’t expect anyone to take me literally. I have to go now, but thanks for calling.”

“Right,” I said. “And by the way, tell the news dude that the reason the guy with the funny-looking hat is grinning is because he caught a big striper. That’s my guess, but it’s only a guess.”

“I’ll let him know, but I’m sure it was a rhetorical question.”

“I thought it was some kind of contest, or something. You know, like on the oldies radio shows when you have to be the first or fourteenth caller with the right answer. So, you’re telling me I haven’t won anything?”

He sighs through the phone. “No, and you didn’t even have the right answer.”

“Not even about the weather?”

“Well, yeah, you were right on that one. There’s no prize, though.”

“Oh. Hey, do you remember when you said it was going to rain. . .” CLICK!



The Toonerville Trolley that runs on the island is pretty much a joke. My niece works on the boardwalk, and she has to pay to park. I looked into the trolley schedule for North Wildwood, and it runs about every hour-and-a-half or so, and stops at five o’clock in the afternoon. That’s hardly workable.

The previous bus system, The Five Mile Beach Electric Railway, meaning old buses, was only slightly better. When I and my friends worked on the boards and had to take the bus, we usually started walking and beat the bus most of the time.

Thirty years ago, my senior design thesis at Drexel involved a monorail system running from the motels in the Crest, along the boardwalk, and ending at the motels in North Wildwood. I also considered a transportation station and parking lot offshore, so day trippers wouldn’t even have to drive onto the island.

The clowns now running the city don’t even recognize that the streets are a disgrace, hardly fitting for a popular resort town. They’re too busy dreaming about high rises, parking garages, and giant beach balls. The downtown area along Pacific Avenue used to be a bustling hub, with both shopping and popular nightclubs.

The copycat pedestrian mall succeeded in driving most businesses out of business. No one wanted to walk several blocks to buy something. Cape May’s pedestrian mall works because most of the businesses are restaurants and tourist-oriented shops. This was never the case in Wildwood.

The first silly-looking sidewalks, with turquoise waves, never caught on, so they tore up the sidewalks and put in the new ones. Some genius decided the sidewalks should be widened at the corners, creating patios that take up space and make it almost impossible to make a right turn onto the avenue while staying within the lane boundaries. The downtown area now looks much like a ghost town. The only thing missing are the tumbleweeds, but maybe city officials can manage to buy some fake ones, sort of like all the fake doo-wop items spread throughout the town.

On a happier note, I wrote to Senator Jeff Van Drew concerning the problem with printing the full credit card number on the store’s copy of a receipt. He agreed that it was a problem, and a new bill has passed both the House and Senate, making it mandatory that no more than the last five digits of a credit card can be printed on the merchant’s copy. Nor can the expiration date be printed. Hats off to Senator Van Drew for recognizing the importance of identity theft protection.

Of the four businesses mentioned in my previous column, The Bellevue, in Cape May Court House, started complying, apparently voluntarily. Of the other three, I visited only The Crest Tavern, and the owners still did not consider it important to protect the identities of its patrons, but that will soon change. . .

The Independence Day fireworks didn’t come off in Wildwood, due to nasty weather. One of the best kept secrets is if or when they intend to shoot them off. The holiday spectacular costs six times as much as the regular Friday-night display, so it’s worth watching if it ever happens.

If you plan on hitting the Wildwoods, you’re in luck, because most of the beach is still there, especially in Wildwood and Wildwood Crest. The Mother’s Day Nor’easter wiped out some of the beach in North Wildwood. Fortunately, they’re installing a sheet pile bulkhead at the end of our street, which should prevent future flooding. Unfortunately, I watched my car disappear on a flatbed yesterday. The insurance company told me they didn’t think it was a good idea to keep it any longer, due to water in the glove compartment. I watched sea water run out of the tailpipe and slosh around in the headlights when it got dragged up the ramp of the truck. The sheet pile arrived about a week-and-a-half late. Better late than never doesn’t always work out.

Year-round residents were dismayed when they realized that all of the giant beach balls, as well as the silly-looking palm tree street signs, survived the storm, as did all of the elected officials.

For those of you heading to Avalon and Sea Isle City, try to negotiate a discount on your beach tags, because most of the beaches in those communities disappeared.

The escape toll is in effect on all Ocean Drive bridges, so if you’re heading for Cape May or Stone Harbor from the Wildwoods, take the Parkway getting there, but come back for free along Ocean Drive. On the other hand, now that it’s cheaper to fill up your car with vodka, rather than gasoline, you just may want to pay the dollar for the shorter distance. For the first time ever, the one-way tolls are starting to make sense.

To avoid the rush to the shore, leave early, which means yesterday or the day before. If you come down 55 to Delsea Drive, you’ll be delighted to know that the interchange at 47 and 83 is complete. They installed a traffic signal so as to keep the 83 traffic flowing for the one or two cars per hour that turn left onto 47. This was a brilliant solution, and only adds about a three-mile backup on 47 during heavy weekend traffic. This will enhance the backup at 47 and 347.

In order to relieve frustration, and make the time seem to pass more quickly, travelers can indulge in a number of fun activities. If you have a talking GPS system, change the language to Japanese, and don’t look at the screen. Try to guess where you will end up. For even more fun, ignore the directions from the GPS and continue until it starts screaming, “Make a U-turn! Make a U-turn!” If it says, “You can’t get there from here,” you have achieved expert status.

The mayor of Wildwood wants everyone to know that the first high-rise has been approved. This is something he has been waiting for since he first started working in the family concrete business. In a few years, you Philly people can save a lot of time and money by just staying home, because both places will look pretty much the same.

As I reported earlier, Rio Grande Avenue is safe for travel. All other streets are pretty much the same as they have been since I first left town in 1972, only worse. The city purchased some new paving equipment for patching streets. The workers now have extra heavy duty work shoes to stomp down the asphalt fill. They were also given flatter shovels with baseball bat weights installed on the handles near the shovel heads. For those of you who don’t want to pay the price for amusement rides, just drive around town. It’s sort of like going on the dinosaur ride, or whatever it is, at Disney World, but a little scarier.

The Great Nor’easter, on Morey’s Pier, sports new cars with state of the art seats. The harness now comes down over your lap, instead of over your shoulders, allowing passengers more freedom of movement. Now you can fling your arms in the face of the person sitting next to you, and they can do the same.

The International Kite Festival will be in town over the entire weekend, and these kite flyers are really something to see. I’m not kidding. I’m not sure why anyone would devote so much time to mastering the art of flying kites to music, but it’s impressive to watch. Ironically, kite flying is normally banned on the beach. Go figure.

If you plan on staying at a motel in the Wildwoods, book your reservations early, like in 2002 or so, before most of the motels disappeared. Don’t waste your money on a Doo-wop tour, because there’s not much left to see. Let me clarify that statement. There’s still a lot of Doo-wop architecture, but most of the really classic stuff has been bulldozed away. There’s also quite a bit of neo doo-wop, but it’s not really the same thing. The doo-wop era of architecture ended long ago, and the contrived new stuff is way overdone.

Okay, so Wildwood doesn’t have any casinos, but you still could hit the jackpot if you fall through one of the rotten boards on the boardwalk. You know, the ones they keep threatening to replace. Some of the tram cars are new, and have improved suspension systems. I think that means they actually have suspension systems.

Parking meters got more expensive in Wildwood, so you now get only fifteen, instead of twenty, minutes for a quarter. This will generate enough additional revenue to buy some more giant beach balls, called “infrastructure” by the city officials. This was a necessary measure, because each new condo means fewer parking meters. Now they’re talking about building huge parking garages that will capture some of the money now being lost to private parking lot owners. Hopefully, plastic palm trees will be included in the design, along with a sign sporting a rotating ’57 Chevy.

So, come early and stay late. Enjoy the kite festival. All city officials plan on being in attendance, just in case there’s not enough wind.

Just in case we actually do have a summer (the laughing gulls seem to be committed to the idea), it’s probably time to discuss crabology. Unless otherwise specified, crabs will mean blue claw crabs, one of the orneriest critters on mud.

Okay, let’s get some other crab types out of the way. The horseshoe crab, so named because it looks like a somewhat-flattened Army helmet with a tail, crawls up on the beach in early summer to lay eggs. It often gets flipped over by small waves, and that tail thing, which is not a stinger, is what the inverted crab uses to turn itself right-side-up. Apparently it doesn’t work very well, but it’s also used as a rudder, and perhaps it functions better in that capacity. Horseshoe crabs (also called king crabs, because they resemble flattened Army helmets) are edible in some parts of the world, not because they’re different, but because the people are. Unless you happen to be a red knot (a type of bird) or someone who uses the crabs for bait or fertilizer, that’s about everything you need to know about these prehensile creatures.

Then there’s the fiddler crab, formally known as the Stradivarius crab, so named because it makes screeching sounds somewhat like a violin. Okay, my research assistant just informed me that it gets its name because of its oversized claw on one side that sort of resembles a fiddle. She said it does not make screeching sounds. Only the male has the large claw. This type of crab is reluctantly ambidextrous. If it drops its fiddle, it grows another one on the opposite side, and if that one falls or gets ripped off, it grows another one on the other side. In other words, you can only keep it from pinching you until it grows another claw. Actually, it grows a mini claw where the big one used to be, and the mini claw on the other side gets big, but not immediately. I think. . . Yeah, that sounds about right. I understand that the function of the large claw is rather limited and is normally used only during special occasions, such as a hoe-down, or when acting in the musical, Fiddler Crab on the Roof.

Another crab related to the fiddler crab is the ghost crab. No one has ever actually seen one, but many people have sensed a feeling of a crab being nearby. I’m pretty sure I once stepped on one, but I was unable to confirm it.

The spider crab is probably one of the ugliest crabs around, not that a crab of any type would be considered photogenic. Strangely enough, the spider crab looks like a spider, only much bigger, and with a hard shell. Because it lives in the water, it is not considered to be a true arachnid. Like the wolf spider, it doesn’t spin webs. Its main function is to scare unsuspecting fisher persons by pretending it’s a fish. People are often horrified to discover that the sea bass they reeled in has morphed into a scary-looking creature resembling a large spider. Despite its appearance, the spider crab is relatively harmless, although you should never handle one if it has a red hourglass on its abdomen. It does play an important role in the ecology of the sea, but no one knows what it is.

If you happen to be from, or vacation in, Ocean City (NJ), you probably have a strange affection for the hermit crab. On May 1 of each year, Martin Z. Mollusk, a hermit crab, and the city’s mascot, somehow predicts whether or not summer will come early or late. It’s also one of the few places on earth that holds an annual beauty contest for hermit crabs. How weird is that? Weird people keep them as pets in a terrarium, no water required. The hermit crab, lacking a shell of its own, will attack a much larger creature, kill it, and steal its shell. Sorry. . . my research assistant has just informed me that the hermit crab is actually very docile, and gets some other denizen of the deep to dispose of the other shell’s occupant. It then applies for a certificate of occupancy, and once it’s granted, it drags the abandoned shell around as its permanent home. Most hermit crabs select empty snail shells, but some of the more wealthy crabs have been known to attach themselves to abalone shells. Many of the more domesticated crabs are actually given prefabricated shells made of plastic or some other high-tech material, such as titanium, although the latter is the exception, rather than the rule.

Other crab types exist at the Jersey Shore, including the apple crab. Never mind, I just learned that it’s the crab apple, so it’s time to move on to the topic of this article, the blue claw crab.

Blue claw crabs, no matter where they currently reside, all originated in Maryland, or at least that’s what the hype would have you believe. The people in that state (I lived there for a couple of years) also believe they invented the crab cake. Now we’re not talking an actual cake here, although some that I’ve tasted probably had enough batter mixed in to officially qualify. A crab cake is simply a mixture of crab meat and other herbs and spices, as well as something to hold it all together, the less of the latter the better. The ones dredged in bread crumbs or corn meal usually get deep fried, and others, lacking the external coating, often get broiled. But there I go again, putting the apple before the crab.

The easiest way to get blue claw crabs is to buy them, preferably already cleaned, from a store that sells them. Another way is to catch them yourself, an activity considered a “fun part of a vacation” by unsuspecting tourists. Most of these amateurs, lacking the knowledge or skills required to catch crabs via a hand line, opt for using a trap. This device needn’t be complicated, because crabs apparently never studied mechanical engineering. Most so-called recreational crab traps consist of a wire frame with doors that close when the crabber yanks on a cord, then pulls the trap from the water. Commercial traps function pretty much like lobster pots – the crab enters a large cage through ports designed to allow only one-way passage.

The more experienced crabber uses a hand line, simply a cord with bait and a sinker attached. When he “feels” the crab nibbling at the bait, he pulls the line up slowly, a hand net sitting ready to scoop up the crab. For those of you wondering how one pulls in a line and holds a hand net at the same time, there’s a simple explanation. Unfortunately, I don’t know what it is. I know, you’re probably saying to yourself, “But isn’t this more difficult, and doesn’t it result in a lower catch yield?” Well, the answer is, yes, but the number of crabs caught isn’t as important to the experienced crabber as the fun and frustration involved. These are usually the same individuals seen running through the woods with a knife, hunting everything from squirrels to deer.

One of the best parts of crabbing is watching someone new to the activity, usually accompanied by small children, attempt to capture an escaped crab. The crab also enjoys this, and scurries sideways, looking for either the water or a place to hide, all the while waving its claws in a menacing manner. This is very effective up to the point that one of the small children stomps on the crab to subdue it. Children consider crabs pretty much just big bugs.

There are several ways to pick up a live crab, but some of them are quite painful. If you’re not sure, use very long tongs. Otherwise, two methods are effective. The easiest is to grab it from behind, using your thumb (assuming you still have it at this point) and one of your remaining fingers on the top and bottom of the shell. Another is to place the thumb and finger where the paddle legs meet the shell. This works, but is a little more unstable than the first method.

Once you catch enough crabs, you’re faced with the decision of either cooking and cleaning or cleaning and cooking. Later you must decide whether to boil or steam, unless you’re talking about soft shell crabs, which is beyond the scope of this article. Assuming you want to steam the crabs, ask someone how it’s done. I’ve watched the process, but don’t care to participate, nor learn its nuances. It involves stacking the live crabs in a steamer, each with a coating of Old Bay seasoning. Note: Cooking live crabs in a microwave oven is NOT an approved method.

Boiling is simpler. You simply dump the crabs in boiling water, which can be seasoned according to your desires. The easiest way is to throw in a package of crab boil, consisting of spices contained in a net-like thing. Another way is to add the seasoning directly to the water, and this can involve allspice, Old Bay, or other commercial brands. Always add some vinegar, and preferably, some salt. Or just use vinegar and salt.

It’s impossible to cook live crabs, but they can be either live or dead before dropping them in the boiling water. This requires further explanation. If a crab dies of unnatural causes, meaning it was out of the water for too long, it’s a little iffy to bother eating it. However, you can clean the crabs before cooking them, in which case they’re officially dead before going in the pot. Either way, cleaning them is pretty much the same. Almost.

Cleaning live crabs involves subduing the creatures in some manner. Some people stun them with hot water, and others claim cold water works better. Or you can put them in the freezer or refrigerator for awhile, which puts them into a dormant state. Extremists like to kill the crab using a Samurai sword or a gun, but those methods are considered to be “overkill,” and are not recommended, especially for first-timers. Holding the crab from behind, lift the flap, pull it off, then pull off the upper shell to expose the gills and other innards. Scrape off the gills, then rinse the insides, including the mustard. If you like crab mustard, the crab should not be cleaned before cooking. With kitchen scissors, or a knife, cut off the mouth and eye stalks, and your crab is ready to go in the pot.

When crabs are cooked before cleaning, the cleaning method is pretty much the same, except that the crab is usually cleaned at the table, without using water. This gives you the added benefit of eating the “mustard,” if you so desire. I don’t eat the mustard, because I know it’s not really mustard, but some people swear by it. If you like sucking the heads of crawfish, you’ll probably go in for crab mustard in a big way.

Now, where the heck is the meat, you’re wondering? Well, some is in the claws, and a nutcracker or hammer is usually required. Experienced pickers use the handle of a butter knife. The rest of the meat is inside the body, so break the crab in half and start exploring. The easiest way to get the desirable “backfin” meat is to pull off the paddle, or backfin, and a large chunk of meat should come out. Then break open the cells containing the rest of the meat (the interior membrane is rather soft).

Cracking and eating crabs is a very rewarding experience, and often causes minor lacerations on the hands and fingers. Sometimes a tiny piece of shell lodges in the skin, resulting in an infection. Flying shell pieces also sometimes embed themselves in the cornea of the eye, but blindness is usually temporary, if treated promptly and properly. Hey, I’m only kidding – that doesn’t really happen, at least not all the time.

Okay, another fun crab activity is to go to a restaurant and order crab cakes, or crab meat au gratin, or some other prepared crab dish. This pretty much removes the element of danger, and transfers the burdens of catching, cleaning, and cooking to more experienced third parties. Have a crabby day!

The mayor, possibly with trowel in hand, said the city will need more parking once the high-rise hotels (which most sane people seem to oppose) come into play. He said the city doesn’t have enough hotel rooms to support the new convention center, and that they face the prospect of losing some convention groups. This is old news, because the city has already lost one group – the firefighters who looked around and wondered what happened to all the motels.

Thinking along these lines is sort of like someone bumping off his parents, then demanding financial aid because he’s an orphan. Wildwood had more than enough motel rooms before condomania struck. The island was enjoying a resurgence after becoming the Doo-wop Capital of the World, because of the unprecedented number of sixties-era motels and other buildings. Motel owners thought about it, then decided to tear down the old structures and replace them with condos. Most of them made a bundle by doing so, especially since prospective buyers at the time thought the condo units were worth at least twice as much as they should have been.

Many of these new real estate moguls thought they would make out by buying condos and renting them out for thousands of dollars per week. Oops! They somehow forgot that Wildwood offered something for people not willing to spend vast amounts of money for a vacation, that is, something different from what was offered from Stone Harbor to Ocean City. So now many of the converted motels are operating just like motels, and fetching rates in line with those of motels. Over a hundred doo-wop motels disappeared forever. The Rio, a hundred-unit structure, went the way of the wrecking ball, along with the surrounding properties, and the lot has sat ugly for a few years now. CAFRA rejected the application for a 27-story hotel, pretty much saying, “Hey, this ain’t Atlantic City!”

If the kite flyers, many of whom stayed at the Rio for its convenience and camaraderie, find wind elsewhere, their East Coast Championships might also blow up or down the coast to a new locale. After all, this wasn’t the place of choice for the Wright Brothers.

The island will probably see high-rise hotels in the future, just as it saw an imitation pedestrian mall that destroyed the business district. The former business owners along Pacific Avenue were more than happy to have paid for the bricks given away free to residents who wanted them. The city then installed new silly-looking sidewalks, then the current sidewalks that aren’t quite as silly looking. The rocket ship street signs yielded to silly-looking palm tree street signs. The mayor claims his concrete company was excluded from participating in any of this.

You might wonder why the same characters keep getting elected in the city, when most people seem to reject the idea of high rises and other schemes. The answer is rather simple. Summer residents who own property are excluded from voting, but not from paying taxes. You would think they would have a say in how their tax dollars are spent, but they don’t. It seems logical that a person should only be allowed to register to vote in one location, but it also seems logical that exceptions should be made for local elections when a person owns property in that locale.

So now Wildwood has almost everything it needs, including giant beach balls. All it now lacks are the high rises, motels, and streets that don’t shake your teeth loose while driving around town. The city is also going to increase parking meter rates. Seems that all of those new condos required off-street parking, resulting in street parking spaces disappearing where rooming houses once stood.

NJ’s Governor Corzine wants to close many of the state parks, and many of the same people who voted for him are protesting. The proposed salt water fishing license requirement is sure to be another crowd pleaser. The state seems to have a real knack for promoting tourism, and the smoking ban in the casinos has already sent gamblers packing for the Pennsylvania parlors. Many out-of-towners will never revisit Atlantic City after the state closed the casinos due to budgetary problems a couple of years back. The escape toll is another delight for those returning to Pennsylvania, Delaware, and New York. Yes, it’s mostly just a one-way thing. They let you in for free.

And how many have already vowed to never return to the Wildwoods? Some will always come back, living on memories, many based on now non-existent places. When the high rises come they may work, but they hardly represent the shore vacation sought by vacationers. Anyone who has been to Myrtle Beach knows the difference.

Obviously, they operate on the calendar theory rather than the climate theory, or else they would have stayed in Myrtle Beach, or wherever it is they go for the winter. It’s supposed to be springtime here, but due to global warming, we’ve had rather cold weather this month. That’s what the global warming alarmists say – that the fact that global temperatures have dropped since 1998 proves that the Earth is warming.

All of our faucets in the house are hooked up backwards, I’ve discovered. When I open the spigots marked hot, hot water comes out, and cold water comes out of the ones marked cold. The thermostat is also on the blink, because when I increase the setting it gets warmer in the house. It’s apparent that neither the plumber nor the HVAC man (actually, he’s the same dude) is familiar with the global warming concept.

The higher than normal tides played a role in the disappearing seagulls, and even the herring gulls, who stayed through the winter after attending an Al Gore rant, headed for higher ground. Luckily, none of the seasonal gulls bothered building nests, which would have been washed away as soon as they were completed.

It’s also possible they were scared away by Debra’s stuff. A large, white thing, probably some type of plastic, lodged in the marsh grass during the high tide. I asked a friend what he thought it was, and he said it was Debra’s. I asked him who Debra was, and he said it was nobody. I mentioned again that he said it was Debra’s, and he agreed that it was, but insisted that it wasn’t a person. He said it was just Debra’s, you know, floating trash, like flotsam. I asked if he meant debris, and he said I could say it how ever I wanted, but it looked like Debra’s to him.

Rumor has it that about a thousand laughing gulls are considering bidding on one of the condos due to be auctioned off next month. They amassed considerable wealth during their stay in Myrtle Beach, and hope the condo developer will accept bits of pizza crust and popcorn, both of which could become valuable if the national forced ethanol project continues. They insist that pizza crust will become scarce, or at least more expensive, due to the wheat shortage, and that popcorn is more efficient than unpopped corn in making ethanol. As of this writing, neither of the claims has been verified, but it sounds as logical as anything the government can come up with.

They also recently attended a council meeting in Wildwood proper, and their attempt at convincing the mayor that both pizza crust and popcorn have been used successfully as aggregate substitutes in concrete was met with raucous laughter. My alert research assistant just informed me that she attended the meeting and no one laughed at the gulls’ suggestion. She said the raucous laughter actually occurred during the presentation, because that’s the gulls’ only way of communicating.

A contingent of herring gulls challenged the claims, strutting indignantly across the table while pointing out that neither pizza crust nor popcorn contained any significant structural properties. They added that as far as they knew, they could be used as substitutes for Styrofoam peanuts, but had to be used rather quickly, especially in the case of the pizza crusts. They did, however, state that broken clamshells had been used in the past in concrete, and that they were sitting on a massive pile of them, just waiting for the right opportunity to come along. This actually was met by raucous laughter, and created quite a flap. When the other gulls finally quieted down, the mayor said that he was well aware of the structural properties of broken clamshells. He further pointed out that concrete on the island was only expected to last a few years before being replaced.

Council tabled the matter and moved on to more important business. One of the members suggested replacing the goal posts at the local athletic field with custom-made goal posts that looked like skate egg cases. A resident pointed out that to do so would probably cause an increase in injuries when players tried to run through the goal posts. Another councilman said there was no porpoise to the silly-looking palm tree street signs, and suggested adding a dolphin. That was voted down, and a discussion ensued concerning renaming Susquehanna Avenue to Bobby Rydell Boulevard, because it’s easier to spell, especially if you use the Blvd abbreviation. A council member pointed out that they should first consider renaming Youngs Avenue to Olds Avenue, because the present name wore out about sixty years ago. He also wanted to correct the spelling of Taylor Avenue to Tailor Avenue. One of the residents wanted to know what they were getting for their ever-increasing tax dollars. The mayor stated that they were considering a giant flashing sign across Rio Grande Avenue that reads, “Watch the Tram Car Please!” A motel owner asked why they had Atlantic, Pacific, and Arctic Avenues, but no Indian Avenue. The mayor pointed out that there’s already an Indian Trail running from Route 9 to Delsea Drive, albeit that it isn’t actually on the island.

They adjourned after failing to come up with a suitable location for more giant beach balls, which are currently taking up space in an undisclosed location. One of the citizens suggested where the beach balls could be forcibly placed, but the suggestion was ignored.

The seagulls did what many citizens have wanted to do for a long time. They left their calling cards on the seats and on the floor.

I think their theories are a bunch of hogwash, although I’ve failed in finding either hogwash or primordial soup in any of the stores. Campbell’s says they haven’t carried any of the latter for millions of years.

We now know that Martians once grew peaches, or at least that’s what I got from the story. Scientists have somehow linked some microscopic fibers in peach fuzz to Martians, because both the Earth and Mars either have or may have once had, salt deposits. This theory makes a lot of sense if you happen to be a crack addict, and I suspect that most scientists fit this category, or maybe they’re still using LSD. I think that’s called, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” research, and I can see how that could readily lead to Martians growing peaches in Georgia.

This proves, at least in my mind, that your typical Martian had hair, which explains their keen interest in fuzzy fruit. So far, they’ve found no evidence of orchards on Mars, but the various rovers they’ve sent up there haven’t figured out how to gain entrance to the vast underground cities likely to exist there.

But enough of that – let’s get back to the primordial soup, which also makes quite a bit of sense, when you really think about it with an enhanced mind. It all started with a bunch of minerals floating around, growing tired of having no self mobility. They decided to join forces and become amoebas and parameciums. For a few thousand years, or maybe millions of years, they enjoyed dividing and multiplying. Eventually, they wondered if maybe there weren’t more to life than simple mathematics, so they started solving complex equations, which they called algae bra (I don’t know where the second word came from), later shortened to algebra.

While solving for an unknown, an amoeba and paramecium got stuck together and when they divided one of the terms they evolved to a pair of brine shrimp, but it wouldn’t be until the 1950’s, during the advent of comic book advertising, that they became known as sea monkeys. This in itself seems to prove that monkeys didn’t evolve from sea monkeys.

During the early, formative years, they enjoyed complete freedom, with no natural or unnatural predators. It would be millions of years before they figured out how to make predators, but when they reached that stage they became the only food source of the more evolved creatures they created, such as guppies and black mollies.

My research assistant just asked me what amoebas and parameciums ate, and what brine shrimp ate, if there wasn’t anything to eat? No one ever asked me that before, and I’m not really certain when Flintstones vitamins first came on the scene, so I’m going to have to do some more research before I finish this. For life to begin, wouldn’t the life have to have some source of nourishment? None of this is making much sense now.

Okay, here we go. The laughing gulls evolved from eggs. I’m quite certain of that, because I’ve seen it happen. The eggs evolved from the laughing gulls, because I’ve seen that also. I’m not sure which came first, but it may have been the chicken. Or the egg. Who cares?

I do know that the gulls will be back soon, and they laugh at everything, including bad jokes and bad stories. I hope they read this.

Meantime, I think I’ll go back to reading the Bible. It’s making a lot more sense now.

I asked why he thought it was a good idea.

“Those oil companies make too much money. Obscene amounts of money.”

“And you think there should be a limit on how much you’re allowed to earn?”

“Of course there should be. They’re charging us too much for gas.”

“And how much should a person or corporation be allowed to earn?” I asked.

“They shouldn’t be allowed to earn too much, especially when it costs the consumer.”

“I see,” I continued. “So we should come up with an arbitrary amount, and if somebody makes more than that we should tax them some more?”

“That’s the idea. Gas costs too much these days.”

“If gas costs too much, why not stop buying it? If nobody buys any petroleum products, the oil companies won’t make any money at all.”

“I have to buy it!” he said. “I have no choice!”

“So if gasoline were to cost $1,000 per gallon, you would still buy it?”

“No, I couldn’t buy it if it cost that much! It would cost me ten or twenty thousand dollars to fill up my tank! I don’t have that much money!” he ranted.

“So what you’re saying is gas doesn’t cost too much now.”

“That’s not what I’m saying! It costs way too much!”

“I don’t see it the way you do,” I said. “You said you wouldn’t buy it if it cost a thousand dollars a gallon, but you buy it now. What’s the difference? If you think it cost too much now, just stop buying it.”

“I can’t stop buying it, because I need it. I already told you that.”

“Right,” I said. “But you said you wouldn’t buy it if it cost a thousand dollars a gallon. Would you somehow stop needing it then?”

“No, I wouldn’t stop needing it. I just wouldn’t be able to buy it.”

“So you wouldn’t really need it, in other words,” I said. “You would figure out how to work around it somehow.”

“I would have to, wouldn’t I? Only the very rich would even have the capability of buying it.”

“So you’ve just told me again that gas isn’t too expensive at this time. If gas were a thousand dollars a gallon, and only the very rich bought it, the oil companies would go under in no time.”

“Yeah, but we should regulate how much they’re allowed to make. They’re making it because of us,” he said.

“Exactly! They’re making it because people are buying their products. Obviously, people might complain about prices, but the only way to measure whether or not prices are too high is by supply and demand. If demand decreases, prices are probably higher than they should be.”

“Well, they are higher than they should be. Those companies are making too much money!”

“Is Google making too much money? Should the government tell them they should only be allowed to make a certain amount? How about Starbucks? Wal-Mart? Target? What about Nike?”

“Well, they’re not oil companies. Oil companies are making way too much money!”

“How about,” I continued, if I told you the profit margin for oil companies was considerably less than that of the companies I mentioned? What would you think then?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t make as many billions as the oil companies.”

“Why not complain about what government has done to drive up the price of oil? They’ve forced us to use ethanol, which is about 20 to 30 percent less efficient than pure petroleum-based gasoline. It also costs more to manufacture, and uses vast amounts of petroleum products to manufacture and transport it. It has enough water in it to make it too corrosive to ship by pipeline, if such pipelines existed. It takes 1700 gallons of water to make one gallon of ethanol. Besides the regular government excise tax on gasoline, add another fifty-one cents per gallon to subsidize corn production. Subsidies for ethanol production are at least $1.05 per gallon. Gas prices haven’t gone up as much as food, everything from corn to wheat to dairy products and meat. We’re growing much less wheat and other crops which are being replaced by corn. Besides driving up the prices of vegetables, it costs more to buy feed for farm animals for dairy production and meat. We could bring in cheaper foreign ethanol, but your good old government has imposed a fifty-four cent per gallon tariff on that, to stack the deck in favor of the U.S. subsidized ethanol production.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Check it out yourself. And I haven’t even mentioned that China has ever-increasing demands for oil, and they don’t seem to care what it costs. That’s where the oil companies make a lot of their profits, and China gets a lot of its money from exporting its products to the U.S. And now some people are talking about taxing the oil companies even more? Do you think that will scare them into decreasing the price of gasoline, or increasing the price to offset the new taxes? Maybe I don’t know how all of this works.”

“That’s scary, but I still think we should do something about those huge profits.”

“Right. Let’s penalize people for providing a need and getting paid for it,” I told him. “Meantime, the government is adding about two dollars to every gallon of gasoline, through subsidies and taxes, and it’s affecting food prices even more than it affects the gas. And we’re letting vast reserves of oil sit in the ground due to over-regulation as well as bans on drilling. Makes sense to me, I suppose.”

“But I heard they were talking about decreasing the subsidy programs.”

“Yes,” I responded. “They expect to decrease farm subsidies by $4.5 billion, and instead provide incentives for conservation, which will increase by $7.8 billion. Whoopee! That’s quite a savings, don’t you think?”

“How do I know you aren’t just making all of this up?”

“Read the September 2007 issue of Amber Waves, a publication by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. You can read it online @
Amber Waves

“Okay, I’ll check it out.”

“As the late Steve Zeitz said, “You can fuel some of the people oil the time, and oil the people some of the time, but you can’t fuel oil the people oil the time.”

That was also shortly before the last time I drove through Strathmere. No one actually goes to Strathmere, they only drive or ride through it. That is, except for the residents.

The other day I had occasion to drive through it once again, on our way to Atlantic City. Now I realize why the residents want to dissociate themselves from Upper Township. It’s all about money.

Strathmerians obviously love to spend money! The entire community looks snobby, although I’m not actually suggesting that any of the citizens actually are snobby. The lady pushing a dog in a baby carriage was actually in Ventnor, which I won’t mention. These are people who gain status by paying more than their friends and neighbors paid for the same things.

I’m different. I love a bargain. A couple of years ago I paid $162.00 for a set of four Bridgestone tires, mounted and balanced, taxes included. The “out the door” price, as they call it. About fifteen years ago I bought a brand new 54-piece set of Stanley socket wrenches for $6.00, at Wal-Mart. Someone from Strathmere would probably attempt to drive the same bargain up to about $400.00. “You paid $400.00 for a set of cheap socket wrenches?” a neighbor would ask. “Yep, and I almost got them to take four-fifty, but they just wouldn’t budge.”

Most of us common folk worry somewhat about money. Well, I guess we don’t really worry about it, but we at least ensure that we have enough available, or can get a big enough loan, before we buy something. They don’t worry about money in Strathmere because they’re not really sure what it is. It’s just there when they want it, so it’s natural that they would be insulted by the prospect of not paying any local purpose tax.

“I don’t get it,” a local resident told me during an interview. “Why won’t they let me pay a local purpose tax? We have nothing to complain about here! Sure, the state taxes soak up a lot of money from us, but with no local purpose tax, our tax bills look paltry compared with the rest of the state! Next thing you know, the riffraff will take over the community because they’ll actually be able to afford their subprime mortgages here!”

It’s not that I’m jealous of these people. Okay, so I’m jealous. I found it impossible to actually close my mouth until I reached the Margate city line, although I felt no less humble in that community, either. My jaw actually came back into place when I reached Ventnor, and I won’t comment on that community. Well, except to say that I wouldn’t want to live there, and that has nothing to do with its close proximity to Atlantic City. Ventnor is Ventnor, or maybe it’s Atlantic City, it’s hard to tell. I mean, if it weren’t for the monument, you would never realize you were no longer in Ventnor. Or maybe it’s that when you’re in Ventnor you would never realize you’re not in Atlantic City. So I just won’t bother to mention Ventnor.

No, I didn’t omit Longport. I just don’t know where it is. And if I did know, I’m not sure I could tell whether I was in Longport or Strathmere. Or Margate, except it’s bigger than the other two and has an elephant. I don’t know where all this money comes from, but most of it was here before they built the Taj Mahal. I mean the one in India.

Anyway, it feels good to be back in North Wildwood. I feel so much less humble here.

Citizen: I want to report some businesses, especially restaurants, that print out the entire charge card number on receipts.

Bureaucrat: They can’t do that. Tell me the details.

Citizen: When I get the receipt, my entire charge card number is on the merchant’s copy, but only the last four digits are on my copy.

Bureaucrat: Oh, well that’s okay. They can do that. It only has to be blanked out on your copy.

Citizen: I don’t understand. The merchant’s copy is the one I leave on the table, for anyone to see, and the one that the merchant’s employees can view. I don’t need my card number hidden from me, because the number is on the card, which I also have.

Bureaucrat: I’m just telling you what the law says.

Citizen: I thought that Public Law 2002, Chapter 101, read, “No retail sales establishment shall print electronically more than the last five digits of a customer’s credit card account number or the expiration date of that credit card upon any sales receipt provided at the point of sale to the customer, except that the provisions of this section shall not apply to any sales receipt in which the sole means of recording the customer’s credit card number is by handwriting or by an imprint or copy of the credit card.”

Bureaucrat: Right. That means it only has to be blanked out on your copy. The store has to have the numbers so they can get paid.

Citizen: They get paid when they scan the card. They don’t have to print out the number. So where does it say that?

Bureaucrat: You just read it to me.

Citizen: Right, and it says any sales receipt provided at the point of sale to the customer. The store’s copy is provided to me, is it not?

Bureaucrat: That’s the store’s copy. It isn’t provided to you.

Citizen: If it isn’t provided to me, how is it possible that I sign it?

Bureaucrat: That’s their copy. The numbers aren’t on your copy.

Citizen: Well, it’s provided to me at the point of sale, so according to the law, all but the last five digits have to be blanked out.

Bureaucrat: Only on your copy. It doesn’t have to be on their copy.

Citizen: And where does it say that?

Bureaucrat: That’s what it says.

Citizen: Okay, read to me where it says that.

Bureaucrat: You read it. That’s what it says.

Citizen: And I want you to tell me specifically where it says that only my copy has to comply with the law. The law says, any copy provided to the customer at the point of sale.

Bureaucrat: Right, meaning your copy.

Citizen: Okay, explain to me why I would want to steal my credit card number from myself? I already know what it is. I don’t want a sales receipt with my entire credit card number sitting on the table for anyone to see.

Bureaucrat: Right, so it shouldn’t be left on the table.

Citizen: That’s usually the procedure. It sits right there on the table for anyone to see.

Bureaucrat: They shouldn’t leave it on the table.

Citizen: Have you ever eaten in a restaurant?

Bureaucrat: I eat in restaurants many times.

Citizen: And do they leave the sales receipt with your credit card number on it sitting on the table?

Bureaucrat: I always pay cash when I go out to dinner.

Citizen: I can see why you don’t understand the law. You’re still living in the sixties.

Bureaucrat: Are you insulting me?

Citizen: No, I think you’ve insulted yourself with this entire conversation. So are you saying you’re not going to investigate my complaint?

Bureaucrat: I’ll investigate it, just like the last time, but so far, all of these places are in compliance with the law. They don’t print the full credit card number on your copy, and that’s what the law says.

Citizen: Okay, I’m getting a bit frustrated here. Will you please read the part of the law that says it only has to be blanked out on my copy?

Bureaucrat: That’s what it says. You already read it to me.

In case you think this is ridiculous, or humorous, consider the fact that this conversation actually happened, both on the county and state levels. I have contacted my senator (no response) and The Answer Guy for the Press of Atlantic City (no response). I intend to pursue the matter further, but am trying to figure out whether or not I’m insane. Some of the establishments I’ve encountered who comply only with the law as interpreted by Consumer Affairs:

The Crest Tavern, Lower Township
The Bellevue, Cape May Court House
Casey’s on 3rd, North Wildwood
Fishtales, Galloway Township

Please check your sales receipts, especially the store’s copy. If you find your entire credit card number on the receipt, do what I do. Sign the customer’s copy and leave it on the table, and take the store’s copy with you.

If anyone can figure out how to get the NJ state government to enforce its own law, please let me know.