Just some silly-ness from my immature Blogging Past. (I do hope I have ‘matured’ somewhat since April, but I doubt it)
Don’t try to judge me; take some grains of salt.
Just kids havin’ fun.
Now, for all y’all Texans out there in Radio Land, this Man needs no introduction:
The Once and Future Guv of Texas:
Kinky Friedman and his Texas Jewboys Band:
He’s just an asshole, but dammit! He’s our Asshole an’ we love him.
Fer the res’ of all y’all who were unlucky enuff to not be born’d in This-Great-Land, Way’ll, Please watch an’ enjoy.
An’ lemme say this by way of dis’claimering: Kinky ain’t no race-ist (Hell! He drives a pickup truck, not a Ferrari) agin’ Meskins. He is all over tongue-n-cheek an’ pokes fun at all o’ y’all Texicans. Most even at me.
“Aren’t you scared the Lord will hit you with a light-en-ing bolt?”
“I figger if he did, He’d know what He was doin’. I’d just ride it wherever it took me.”
(“Me no Alamo”)
“According to Texas legend, in 1836, when Sam Houston, master of the strategic retreat,
and the Texan Army finally allowed Santa Anna and the Mexicans to catch up with them, the Texans waded into the sleeping Mexicans at San Jacinto, yelling, “Remember the Alamo! Remember Goliad!” while filleting Mexicans left and right with their bayonets. The panicked Mexicans tried to scramble away, screaming, “Me no Alamo, me no Goliad!” It has come to mean, “Hey, don’t blame me. I didn’t do it.”
“All the stuff I report in this book happened. I didn’t make up any of it.”
“Me no Alamo.”
From her wonderful book: “Molly Ivins Can’t Say That, Can She?”
To Clean Up My Act (and to save some bandwidth)I decided to cast this net out just one more time (before I deleted it)As I liked it.
Anyhow… here ya go. (Personally, I thought the historical significance was, well historical, especially for Texans and for Louisianians, but that was just me)
Today’s Daily Lenny is about Uncle Earl, Guv’na of the Great State of Louisiana
Now…Uncle Earl was nuts; that is why we lovedUncle Earl.Especially us Texans loved Uncle Earl, because he was just like our Governors: Whacked Out. Only wors’er.
Mollyspoke about him:“If Louisiana eventually elects Duke (David) governor, don’t expect any sympathy from Texas. They sent us one of their barmy governors once before—Earl Long, who was Huey’s crazy brother. Earl finally got so bad his own family shipped him off to a nuthouse in Galveston. We kept him for six weeks and then let him go; he looked like a perfectly normal governor to us.”From: Molly Ivins Can’t Say That, Can She?
Loved it. Hated it. Few decades ago I could truthfully say, “Hey! I’ve spent half my life in California.” (See This Or This)
Now I can say, “Hey! I’ve spent most of my life in Dangerous Desolate Places.” (Middle East & East Texas) That worm did turn some. (Go Here or There)
As a Native Texan, I am supposed to always hate California and yes, Yes to all you Texans out there: I know this. I get it. Put the rope down.
Yet I more love than hate California.
In California I learned to appreciate music, art, science, literature, hippies, beaches and blondes. My first kiss was not in California, but I didn’t miss that milestone by much–In California.
In Texas I learned to appreciate drankin’ whiskey and beer , smokin’ dope, playin’ football, chasin’ cheerleaders, and Raisin’ Hell.
Arriving home to Texas late 1968 folks made fun of my ‘California Accent’ if there even is such a thing. (There were no Valley Girls in the Sixties as far as I know). My ‘accent’ was ‘just the way normal people talked’ as far as I was concerned. Texans sounded funny to me (Blasphemy!)
My Attitude Adjustment didn’t take long to take.
In California I was a Little League Baseball Star. In Texas no one gave two shits about baseball. I had to learn football. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but I had all those baseball skills which were not worth a cup of spit in Texas.
I love Texas and don’t get me wrong. But once in a while, when I see a photo or a news bit showing San Francisco, or San Diego, or a beach, or a blonde… I hear this guysinging:
Sometimes I even hear this blonde singing:
And I tear up. (Just a little bit) but then I throw on some Bob Wills and Remember Who I am.
And thus remembering, I go out and buy a case of Lone StarLong Necks and listen to this guy:
And I Thank The Spirit of Sam Houston I Am A Texan.