Living New Jersey Jokes

Know me and know that I bristle at Jersey jokes. It's not just that I went to the same high school system as Bruce Springsteen, or that I spent endless summers "down the shore" or even that I witnessed the pseudo-rebirth of Atlantic City. I'm a Jersey guy, like Solaris Internals author Jim Mauro, and proud of it.

Sometimes, though, we bring the Jersey jokes on ourselves in ways that Joe Piscopo couldn't have even dreamed. Yesterday my father, son and I played the local par-3 golf course as a way to officially kick off the unofficial Jersey summer (Memorial Day to Labor Day). The course sits next to a state highway, nestled between an industrial complex, a county airport, and a big box electronics store. Very Jersey. The scorecard gives all of the ground rules of the course, including what to do if you hit the chain link fence separating course from parking lot and airport.

The last local rule is "No high heels."

I can't add more humor to that; it's the stuff Jersey jokes are made of, along with shopping malls, big hair, and people in their 40s who still wish it was the summer of 1983 when WAPP was commercial free and catapulting Jon Bon Jovi into stardom. I may miss WAPP (103.5 FM, now WKTU), but at least I was wearing sneakers on the par-3 yesterday.

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