Military Madness

Solitary sadness creeps over me

Three-Star General Woodbridge to the troops:

“Men, I suppose you’re wondering why I have assembled you here today…”

Shouts from the men: “We love you General!”

General Woodbridge continues, “Men, we have an important, almost impossible, very dangerous mission, but I know you brave men are up to the task at hand.”

Private Marcom pipes up, “What’s the Mission General?”

“Clean up this shit-hole and do it smartly.”

(Probably gonna take a lot of casualties)

“Over the top Boys!”

Credit: Mel Gibson

The Trouble With Lance And Beer Cans (And Tribbles) I’m apologize for the U-Boob links— I may fix this later…. or not

The major problem with being an alcoholic (semi-functioning one with a brain) is that you are smart enough to talk yourself out of necessary tasks that need to be tasked and stupid enough to not realize you are deluding yourself into thinking that nothing else matters, ‘cept maintenance drinking.

This is a delicate tight-wire you have precariously put yourself upon for no real good reason.


You Sailor on.

Precariously perched

Trying to maintain some semblance of ‘balance.’

It is a delicate dance.

And you are smart enough to know how the story must end.

Yet you hurdle on into the dark void of your madness.

Casting all caution to the wind.

Rinse and Repeat Every Day.

Same Bat Time.

Same Bat Channel.

But somehow Life Staggers On

Hold my beer and watch this:

Vid Cred: MsAnne5

History of The Entire World–The Genius That is Bill Wurtz

The Genius That is Bill Wurtz.

I posted this on my Facebook Page.

For my Friends to Enjoy, but

It may have been over their heads.

(Or maybe no one has time anymore to invest in watching something of quality—twenty second sound bites is what they want…)

Now, I am not being arrogant.

Nor pompous.

Ok, maybe a little pompous,


I have the attention span of a drunk gnat myself


Some things are worth the time invested.


“Uh…. I have posted some of this man’s work before…

But no one ‘watched’ (Uhhhh, your loss).

Watch this one. It is for ‘thinking’ peeps (as were the others)

I try to ‘share’ things that are thought provoking and relevant and entertaining.

But, what the hell, right? You can only beat a dead horse so long before it falls apart and becomes disgusting.

I shoot high. Sometimes I shoot low.

Sometimes I hit.

Sometimes I miss.

But I always shoot.

And always with good intent.

Never malice.

I just want folks to enjoy some of the things that enrich my life.

And maybe enrich yours.”

Thank You.

Drive Through.


(Ed. Note: There is a slight pause at the beginning of the video. This is intentional by the author–I am guessing here–but do NOT think that that is the end of the video. It is almost 20 minutes long and worth every minute of time spent watching.)

Bonus Track:

Bonus Bonus Track


Titty Bars and the YMCA–San Diego

Back in the day (1986-7) when I was on the USS Callaghan DDG 994 and had more than a day of liberty (and before I had a vehicle)

I would ride the bus to downtown San Dog and hang out in the titty bars.

There was an old YMCA close by–The kind of YMCA that still provided rooms for miscreants – mostly sailors, drunks, homeless, and gay folks.

When I had gotten too drunk in the titty bar and did not want to attempt to make it back to my rack on the Callaghan, I would crash at the Y.

I did NOT care that most of the ‘clientele’ were gay. I just wanted a place to crash. And I did.

Loved that YMCA. It was like something out of a more kinder past.



We Are Living In Progressive Times (Or at Least I am)

So, I suddenly realized that my auto insurance expired two days ago.

I have been ‘with’ Progressive over 9 years for my insurance needs.

Paying just the bare amount to be ‘legal’. Don’t need no ‘comprehensive.’ Don’t need a million dollars worth of collateral dead man walking compensation. Don’t need no protection from “Acts of God.”

Oh Hell No!

I just wanna be ‘legal.’


Been paying about $250 and change for six months coverage.

I went to the Progressive web site to renew my policy, but while there I tried to inform them that I was no longer in Memphis.

No dice.

Their web site is broken.

So I got on the telephone.

Got someone named “George” or “Randy” or “Wilfred” or whatever. Don’t matter.

Turns out he was a “Soy Boy.”

But more on that later.

He’s like, “Well, before we can continue, I need to ask you a series of questions. Will take about 15 minutes. Do you agree to this?”

“Sure,” I said. “Got no pressing engagements at this moment; fire away.”

Now, mind you, Gentle Readers, I have been ‘with’ Progressive Insurance for quite some time.

We’ve met.

They already know everything about me, save for my new Home of Record which is the only reason I had to telephone them. But I am a patient man and realize there are dumb-ass corporate ‘dances’ that must be danced, so I answered all the redundant questions.

Finally got to the punch line:

“Ok, Willard, Wilfred, Randy… How much my ‘New’ Texas Policy gonna set me back?”

“Four hundred and sixty-three dollars. Would you like to go ahead and renew now?”

“Whoa! Wait a second there Hot-Rod! Please explain to me why the same policy I had in Tennessee costs double in Texas.”

“Well, it’s a different state.”

“No shit. Tell ya what, I am gonna ‘shop’ this around. If I cannot do better, then I will call you back. No, strike that! Do you have Flo’s personal number?”

“Flo is not a real person,” he said.

“Well then, I am gonna call the Geico Gecko. Bye!

Abusive Muse Chapter Three and 3 Quarters

Dateline: 24 OCT 2020

Time: 0020 hours.

Some knocking at my back door.

“Who is it?” I said.

“It’s your Muse. Open the damn door.”

I open the ‘damn’ door and sure as shit there she stood, looking as radiant as ever.

“Did you get a tan? Looks like you got a tan. It’s a nice tan. Been to some exotic beach?”

“Cut the bullshit small talk,” she said as she brushed past me, entering our ‘apartment.’

“You promised me you were gonna clean up this dump,” she said, looking around.

“Got no time for that.  I am a WRITER.”

“Not without me, you’re not. And oh, by the way, you smell. Got no time for personal hygiene either?”

“Welcome home,” I said.

“Fuck you,” she said, as She threw some dirty clothes off the couch and sat down, looking somewhat disgusted.

“Plant your smelly ass in front of that keyboard. We have Work to do.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

So, I parked ‘my smelly ass’ in front of the keyboard…

and just sat there, staring at a blank page.

Muse got up off Nasty Couch, walked over to me.

“What are you not doing?” she demanded.

“I’ll not write another line

For my true love is gone

When the guests have done

I’ll tidy up the room”

She smacked me up-side my head.

“Snap out of it Asshole! Write!”

So thus I began:

“It was a dark and stormy night…”

“I am NOT amused,” said Muse.

“Okay, Okay, Gimme a moment to collect my thoughts.”

“A ‘brief moment’ is all you’re gonna get from me. Otherwise I am back to The Bahamas and good fucking luck without me. Get ON WITH IT!”

“Get on with WHAT?”

“Don’t you remember, you Idiot? I emailed it to you from the road: ‘Indigo Girl #3: LaSheeka!'”

“How does it begin?” I asked.

“Get a job, you lazy son of a bitch! She screamed at some pan-handler at Hotel Indigo late one night.
I just walked away, but said to her, “Baby, calm down.”
She replied, “These idiots just piss me off.”
Had to concur.

“Ring any Bells?” Muse said.

“Uh, I may have been drunk, and did not see it,” I said.

“You’re hopeless,” she said back. “But I am going to stick with you. For now. You do have some small talent. Try using it.”

(This entire narrative falls apart if you do not watch the Janis Ian–probably shouda put this at the beginning of this post instead of at the ending of it, but I don’t trust WordPress to not screw up my edit)

Parts here: one… two. maybe…

Yet Some More Found Here