My shoulder has gotten really bad (down into my elbow now), so I can’t really type much (which should make work really pleasant today). Too bad, too, ‘cuz I could talk about the Jets training camp (and who wouldn’t want to hear about that) and how Joe Namath (who is responsible for the mostly miserable 45 or so years I’ve spent as a Jets fan, and who is still a hero to me – OK, not hero, really, but I thought it was pretty goddamn funny – for getting hammered and hitting on Suzy Kolber on national teevee) was here (well, not here, here, but in Cortland, which is close enough to here to call here) talking about bringing a Super Bowl Championship back to NYC (well, to NJ really, but close enough) after last year’s AFC Championship game appearance (never mind they kinda backed into the playoffs – thanks to losing 6 out of 7 games in one stretch – courtesy of the Colts, which is rather ironic given that whole Super Bowl III thing).

Speaking of NYC, I could also have talked about how Ed Koch will be in town today to promote his Albany reform group “New York Uprising,” which I find kinda odd, ‘cuz I didn’t think Ed Koch even knew there was anything north of Hoboken and west of the Hudson, let alone lower himself to actually come up here (except for during his ill-fated, Rupert Murdoch-backed – or at least encouraged – run for Governor back in the 80’s, when he talked about Upstate residents “wasting time in a pickup truck when you have to drive 20 miles to buy a gingham dress or a Sears, Roebuck suit”).

Sorry, Ed, but I’ve got a Hyundai, it’s less than a mile to the closest Sears (I can even walk there, but I gotta be careful crossin’ the Boulevard, what with all them dang old pickup trucks whizzin’ by ever’ whichaway), and anyhow, I buy my suits from JC Penney and Granny buys her gingham dresses off that Interwhatsit thing all the kids are talking about. But good luck with that whole reform thing, ‘cuz I really respect your f*cking opinion, old man.

If it wasn’t such misery to type, I might even have mentioned Elana Kagan being confirmed as the next Supreme Court Justice (and how she kinda looks like she could be Rachel Maddow’s “Aunt Laney” or something; can’t you just picture the two of them together smoking cigars and playing poker or out in a boat fishing?).

Or I might tell you that Granny dropped something or other on her foot, so between her foot and my shoulder (talk about a precarious position), last night the two of us were gruntin’ & groanin’ (in agony, not ecstasy – get your minds outta the gutter), cursing (lots-o-cursing) and hobbling around like a couple of ancient cripples, putting ice packs on our various afflicted parts (a little bit of ecstasy there) and lamenting about how it sucks to get old (if I ever start talking about how my BM was this morning, somebody just shoot me).

I would probably also mention that today is the 65th anniversary of the first time nuclear weapons were used in war, as Pilot Paul Tibbetts (played by Sidney Poitier in “In the Heat of the Night” and its sequel, “They Call Me Mister Tibbetts!”) and the Enola Gay (named after his mommy; what a good son) dropped “Little Boy” over Hiroshima, ruining what by all accounts was a very pleasant morning.

But my shoulder’s killing me, so this is about as much as I can manage. And, speaking of ruining a perfectly pleasant morning (other than the shoulder agony, of course), I reckon it’s about time to head off to work.

On the bright side, at least it’s finally Friday.