Monthly Archives: August 2021

Threw Back Up Thursday: Kinky

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“Me No Alamo”

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.

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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.

Kinky Fer President in ‘16!

Feel Me?

I love all y’all (even all y’all Yankees)

Peace Out,

Y’all’s Lance-ikin

“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.”

–Dave Gardner

(“Me no Alamo”)

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“According to Texas legend, in 1836, when Sam Houston, master of the strategic retreat,

220px-Sam_Houston_by_Mathew_Brady

The Raven

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.”

–Molly Ivins

From her wonderful book: “Molly Ivins Can’t Say That, Can She?”

Molly

Molly

Read it.

And Weep.

And laugh

Yer Ass Off

I Was So Scared… I Always Wet My Pants Ever’time I Got Arrested

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More Molly.

Politeness

Prolly gonna get arrested for copyright’en violations

But, Y’all know what?

Ya caint get blood out of a turnip.

Hope you enjoy.

Will write some more original shit soon.

But here is more Molly: H.Ross Perot;  Texans I Admire

And related: Kinky

 

Cheers, Y’all

In My Tireless Effort: Or… History Repeats. You Choose.

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For Balance:

Louisiana

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) 

 

Hi Kids!

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 loved Uncle Earl. Especially us Texans loved Uncle Earl, because he was just like our Governors: Whacked Out. Only wors’er.

Uncle Earl

Uncle Earl

Molly spoke 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?

Hereeee’s Lenny!!

 

California on my Mind But Texas Always in my Heart

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GTT

The Raven

More Texas

Less California

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 guy singing:

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.

Bob Wills

And thus remembering, I go out and buy a case of Lone Star Long Necks and listen to this guy:

And I Thank The Spirit of Sam Houston I Am A Texan.

Hearts are like assholes; ever’one got one

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Anyone who reads me, knows most of my shit is about women–my relationships with women. I love women. This is well-documented.

I have broken lots of hearts.

Lots of good woman hearts.

My heart, my one one, my only one, has been broken too.

I should take better care of it.

Try to Look out for it.

More.

More earnestly.

More diligently.

Less carelessly.

Heart Broke.

More times than I wish to recount.

But.

I always manage

to sailor on.

And I will.

Continue.

For

Ever.

This is cruel.

Cred for Vid: jakuerika

Billie H is the broad singing; but you knew that already….

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And crude.

But it is how I choose to survive.

I honestly have no choice in the matter.

If you do not get my sense of humor, you are in the wrong place.

And you need to leave.

Now.

May I speak honestly (for a moment?) Don’t get accused/accustomed/used to it. It will be fleeting

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Y’all know how I bang on and on and ON about TEXAS in general, and Texas Women in particular.

(Kinda hard to miss)

My point, the one I am trying to make.

Is this:

I am cognizant.

Of my failings.

I know, for me, Texas is a vain fantasy.

But it is all I have.

All I really want.

I am a student of Texas History.

I am well-read.

This does not make me better than you.

It just makes me better-versed.

In Texas.

Thanks.

Drive Thru.

I will always love Texas.

Because this is where I am ‘from.’

And more assholes than I care to admit have often said to me:

“Texas is a good place to be ‘from’.”

Then I usually would bounce a beer bottle off’n they head (for their trouble and for their unsolicited opinion)