Just had to…. reblog.
Monthly Archives: September 2014
Now, let us ‘deconstruct’ “Y’all”
In the English Oxford Dictionary, ‘you’
“Used to refer to the person or people that the speaker is addressing”
Yeah, not so fast.
Southerners having none of that.
See? English English breaks down right there.
We (us southerners) need more.
Southerners need ‘Y’all’
Now ever’one needs “Y’all”
Sometimes… we need “All Y’all.”
(just to make certain there is no ambiguity)
And P.S. My good friend, Pain, over at http://exileonpainstreet.com/
once said, and I try to quote:
“If I see too many posts in My Reader… I get ‘overload’ and delete them all.”
He said that.
I admire that: his truthfulness.
I too, try and usually fail, to read… ever’one.
But… I never delete.
I just try to catch up.
Perusin’ For a Brusin’
I was perusing my recent posts (Yes I do that, mostly to make sure I did not fail to comply, to reply to any and all comments—my ‘House’ Policy: ‘Reply, Upon Pain of Death, To All Comments’–That is how WE Roll.)
In some truth, I do this because I am just that vain.
Well now, with that little bit of TMI outta the way, Here is the pointless point to this ‘pre-post.’
“A ‘Pre-Post?’ some may ask.
“Yep. A Pre-Post.”
“Whatever could he mean?”
Often ideas for ‘posts’ come from music (duh).
As I was driving to the Beer / Copenhagen Store, my Favorite Radio Station (read: the only one whut is worth a shit here in this Elvis’ City of Music by the Mississippi), was playing this song:
Vid Cretion (sp):
It, the song, reminded me of my first Stripper/Madonna/Whore/Single-mother/mutha/ethnic sexual love of my life.
I was, if memory serves, 10 years old at the time, yet I never ever forgot her name:
And she ruined me for all the ‘other’ women to come, or not to come, in my life.
P.S. And of course there is some ‘back-story’ to this “Pre-Post”
Hell! There always is and generally accompanied by a ‘link’.
If not, well then… then you would not be here at TT&H.
Now would you?
Here is the ‘Back Door’ Policy.
And whoever said the Eighties were devoid of good music??
But…Call Now! And We’ll DOUBLE THE OFFER!
(just pay extra shipping an’ handling….)
OKay! I’ll bite.
Send me two… Of these:
Just kidding Fredricka!
(All thinking folk know you are priceless)
(Fred is the ONLY Reason God Made CNN Weekends… and most likely: Oklahoma–We will not speak of Texas—yet.)
And… She runs/swims/bikes in Triathlons
I love her and so should you.
I know ‘we’ are all so ‘distraught’ over Joan’s passing, but… she did show her ‘ungracious’ ass.
And ‘Fred’ remained, retained as always,
Her True Ladyhood and just good manners.
This is how we should all ‘roll.’
Some May Call This as a Call… To Y’all
But, I call it…. Nope!
“The cannons don’t thunder; there’s nothin’ to plunder…”
Here is an opinion y’all did not see coming: This is a Stupid Fantasy Song. A Texan said that! Nay! I am (he said, “A Comanche!”
Now, that is funny…
Not to put too fine a point upon it, but, I have a finite time left. Once upon a time, I stepped on a dime and it was promised to me, you see… I never contemplated ‘finite’, as you see, everything was infinite to me… And in my unsung mind, that was how it should be. Unshining dime.
Certainly no less.
Anyway, as ‘brevity is the soul of wit…’ I find me witness, er, wireless, sycophant.
I got ROBBED by Thesim And some other is ‘ISM’s!!!!
(Yes! I am looking for a fight. A fight with all you Hyper-Christians. Yep)
And yes! YES! We can be as radical as you!
I Had to go to Egypt. Egypt! Egypt!
To sate… me.
Upon sober reflection, I decided to ‘edit’ that bit out.
“Why, Oh Why Lance, do you edit yourself?”
“Because I can Grasshopper. Because I can.”
And, NO! This ain’t no suicide! Note: This is a preamble, to the gamble… I lost.
Lost? You ask?
That, “Hey Lance! Let’s run dope! Lance! No,”..Lance, let us not ‘run’ thru mis…Miss Mis. No!”
I made me. I did that. I worked hard. I was honour. I was. It was never enuff to make the money. Was it?
There was never enough!
AND YOU KNOW WHAT??
I laugh at my own hyperbole.
I really do …
fade back into the shadows; I Am no World Leader…
But I screwed the pooch…
and then I begged forgiveness from my father.
I denied. For you see?
Now, this is a test.
Because I am bored. I have severed my country…
I Just wanna see…how good… is the NSA.
(and… I am a bit of a ‘rebel’ all in all…)
And when the U. S. A. Understands that, then that… will fix…
And vex… us all.
End of Rant (ain’t ya glad?)
-Lance (The Nice One)
“Just takes a while!”
I feeel like I’ve drown’d’
Gonna he’d up town…
meanwhile back at the ranch…
My Honest Intent Tonight: Or, Stay Tuned…
Sometimes Lance makes sense; sometimes he
OKay: it is now time to drop the illiterate–the ‘Cool’ behind all that. I mean, I am not going for the “cool” vernacular anymore. I speak English. I am My Father’s Son. I do not…
Here is the scary part:
It all makes sense to him.
A gun, made of plastic…
(Just like the M16 in The Nam)
And you can just tell. It’s Swell! Made by Mattel!
Swell… Ergo: I grew up…. killing…
I have been...aw shit! Y’all know this..
…Was to bring fresh, peace, piece? or fresh peaches?… truth: I forgot.
Nevertheless, my intent was to inject some ‘Freshness’ into this blog. I may fail. But! Hey! Gonna give some ole college try (spoken by one who had never finished
collage, er, college.)
See? I know words… and semantics… and malapropism.
Some out there in “Radio Land” may be asking, “Hey! Why
don’t doesn’t Lance ever finish a story?” Case in recent point, “Running in Soft Sand,” or “The Barmaid Who Whacked Me, But Did Not Mean It…The Whacking Part..?”
or countless others…
Just one more Vietnam Vet who never ever went to Viet Nam…
My respond? I get bored with my own prose.
Get your own!
There! I admit it.
Stay tuned: It can only grow worse.