Sometimes Lance makes sense; sometimes he don’t.  

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)

Mattel

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.

So what?

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.

Sorry.

Stay tuned: It can only grow worse.

(It always does)

–Lanc’d