Ah, yes. Maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Cyprian. No, not Scorpion, Supreme, Syphilis, Sabrina … Cyprian. Like the island of Cyprus. Never mind. I also go by many aliases that I have acquired over the past few years (while running from the Feds), such as Corsair and Simon Azrael. Those who seem to think I'm from outer space call me Cebrien AL-EL Cebrien, and those who believe my trailer-trash shtick to be even the least bit authentic, (which is baffling, because I'm a first-generation Polish immigrant, and believe you me, it shows) call me things not unlike Billy, Jim, or Tyrone. Also Dave. That just leaves my initials, the all-encompassing CGM.

Why am I so weird? I spent the last (and best - what a cliché) four years of my life at the lucrative James Madison University, in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. I received a B.A. in Media Arts and Design, and Journalism. I would have majored in Awesomeness, but they didn't offer it there. Also I drank. A lot. I mean a WHOLE lot. So now, in my many roles as a writer or an editor, my once 790 SAT vocabulary struggles to produce copious statements not unlike "Yeah, totally, that's some real good stuff. I mean really."

My bringing up my alma mater actually has something to do with my illustrious topic. See, there were a LOT of hot girls at my school. Our women ranked #2 in Playboy magazine like 5 years in a row or something (Check the history books, mofo's). A lot of these amazing, coy-looking seductive temptresses had long dark hair, legs like figure skaters (that Tara Lipinsky euro-tramp excluded), curves to give you whiplash, daddy's platinum card, and a throatful of attitude. As it were, all these royal Jezebels hailed from the great state of New Jersey.

This would normally be the part of the story where I try to artfully insert the phrase "ad hoc" into my piece, but I'm still trying to remember what it means. Having said that, if you are still reading this, I will proceed to tell you about my beef with New Jersey. Now I love all things and all people, and try to treat them all with kindness, respect, and compassion. Also, if you believe this, you are in for a "crying game" of a surprise.

I HATE New Jersey and anything or anyone affiliated with it. If you're from New Jersey, and you're offended, shut up because you should hate yourself for being a resident of such an insipid Sodom of a state. You know it sucks; you've just had to deal with it so long you've become brainwashed. By the likes of Governor James McGreevey and the other Illuminati who have been part of a time-honored tradition of making people believe that there is actually some good in the Garden State.

I mean, come on! Garden State? Who are they kidding? The last documented garden in the EN-TIRE state was wiped out during the Carter administration. Anyone who has been to New Jersey knows how ugly, dark and downright stank that place is. Ever have a conversation with someone from the ol' NJ? First thing they say after they tell you where they're from is that "it's not as dirty as people think." Why would you have to say something like that?

New Jersey is the Armpit of America. Take a look, or a sniff around, and you will surely agree. There is no natural beauty in New Jersey. Definitely no gardens. It's all nasty roads and hopeless landscapes. If there was an inverse to the Seven Wonders of the World, something like the Seven Banes of the Earth, the Turnpike would be one of them.

They call their beach "the shore." That's just senseless. It's also unattractive. And toxic. The actual "shore" that is, if you will. It's just something pleasant sounding to appease all the ignorant sheep in Pennsylvania who bought property "on the shore" to keep up with the Joneses. Has ANYONE EVER had anything good to say about Wildwood? And Atlantic City? Come on, that's the nastiest "shore" on the entire east coast. It's just a second-rate circle-jerk for all the losers who can't afford the trip to Vegas. The same ones who are huffy that they don't own beachfront property in the Outer Banks.

It is a dark, evil place. The roads are post-apocalyptic. You can't make a left turn in Jersey to save your life. They don't let you pump your own gas. It's 2k2, people; that's just downright creepy these days. Like something out of "Urban Legends." Even the Lottery Jackpot - only 5 million. Pisspoor. You think with all that money they make off the tolls they could do a little better. Evil bastards. Speaking of evil, their hockey team is called the Devils. No coincidence.

As I said before in my first point, there are a lot of hot girls who are bred in the Armpit, but they really, really suck. I mean real bad. You know the type; you've seen them around. They've got the Kate Spade bag, the Wonderbra from Vicki's and the matching thong underneath the generic black pants (affectionately called the "f***-me pants"), unless they're going with the leather skirt and the matching boots ("f***-me boots") instead. Now if you don't drive a BMW and own a house in the Hamptons, when you try to rap to (read: pick up) a New Jersey chick, you will get a roll of the eyes faster than if you told a straight man about the female orgasm book written by that "Sex and the City" chick. I mean, do you even realize she was in "Police Academy?"

They are too good for anybody. To get their attention, you need at least a duplex in Ocean City, a full-size SUV, and enough escrow to feed her fat mouth with "steaks" and Smirnoff Ice for a few months. Speaking of which, let's face it. When we say Ocean City, we're talking about the party mecca in Maryland, THE Ocean City. Not the dry family community in the, ugh, Garden State. Yes, I said "dry." It's not a joke. What is a joke is that the good people of the United States of America consider Jersey part of the Union. I think it should be demoted to Puerto Rico status, or something. I'd just like to say I love Puerto Rico, and all Puerto Ricans, unlike New Jersey and all its subsequent New Jersey bastards.

So back to the snobby women. If they're in college, they will be in the "bitch" sorority and date the son of the Fortune 500 C.E.O. If they're out in the real world waiting tables, they're the mistress of some second-string Mets outfielder. Either way, they're trashier than the shoulders on the Turnpike. And to most guys, inaccessible. Which only makes us want the damned tramps more. Which is why we loathe them. Also, you must realize how fake they are. Yeah, yeah, we know how you are. Vegetarian to everyone's face and on the stairmaster every chance you get, but when you get back to Momma's house its sausage and cannoli until it comes out your ears.

Okay, okay, enough bitchin' about the women. Fine, I'll admit it. Even though I was pretty good with the ladies and dated plenty of attractive, sexually-adventurous girls in my four years at school, without fail I always struck out when it came to girls from the Garden State. So I'm bitter. So what? Doesn't change the fact that New Jersey SUCKS. Allow me to go back to the simple and immutable fact that nothing good has ever come out of New Jersey.

People will try to turn on you with the excuses, "But what about the music? The Boss and Bon Jovi came from Jersey, man!" C'mon! Shave your mullet, take your poor nuts out of those masochistic stone-washed jeans, and snap out of the 80's! The last time Springsteen had a hit, or anything close, was when he played the theme for that movie where Tom Hanks was gay, "Philadelphia!" (See: haven for many attempted bourgeoisie who own semi-prime "shore" property.) Next case: Bon Jovi. Oh boy. Jon Bon Jovi had a small part in "Pay it forward" and their last album crossed over next to the likes of Britney and the N'Sync. Do I need to say more?

Respect dwindling…and for all the rap fans out there (read: young Black readers who have no idea who Bon Jovi or Springsteen are), take Redman and Naughty by Nature. Okay, for Naughty, two words: fallen off. Next: Redman. Yeah he's had some hot singles and all, but have you ever heard one of his albums? Have they ever been good? Sadly, no. Not even your music can save you, evil fiddlers.

Basically, I don't think there is anything to be said about the Armpit to salvage its dignity. It's a hopeless excuse for a state. The people are disappointing. The roads are horrible. The beaches, unacceptable. Nothing good has ever come out of New Jersey. I think I'm done. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some important, um, work to do, um researching, the uh, website, www.nudenewjerseynymphs.com. A man can dream, can't he?