I Must Re-Post This Because It Makes Me sad & And I Love My Pity-Parties. “Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.”–W. Shakespeare (this is really long–please try to slog thru it)

In 1971 when my step-sister Madelyn and I were fourteen and thirteen respectively, my parents would often go out of town on the weekends. My father and stepmother seemed to always have some magic convention or gathering to attend in Dallas, Houston, Kansas City, or any number of other venues.

My father knew all the local high school kids from his directing of the senior plays every year. Two of the former graduates, Ronnie and Doug, then about twenty years old, remained very good friends of my father and particularly Ronnie, (who was Peanut’s Uncle). My father decided that Madelyn and I needed a ‘baby-sitter’ while he and Gloria were off on their long weekends, so they paid Doug and Ronnie to look after us.

Now mind you, Madelyn and I were both pretty certain we were over-mature for our age and could easily fend for ourselves, but we loved having two “big brothers” to help us throw the greatest parties in the history of Honey Grove while under their tutelage.

We used Marcom Manor as our venue of course and were always in a rush to get the house back into some semblance of order before the folks returned, usually on a Sunday, but occasionally on a Monday or Tuesday.

During Labor Day Weekend of 1971 my parents were off to a big convention in Houston and we had a great party planned for Sunday the Fifth of September. We were to have ‘The Mother of All Parties’ out at Lake Coffeemill, north of Honey Grove. (The party was going to serve double duty for me, as my fourteenth birthday was just five days away.)  Right up until the night before, I had no date lined up for this all-day Blow-Out, and I was in a panic.

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Yeah. I’m Just Screwin’ Around. “Coping With Hagen” I am so tired. I Caint Walk. My legs have Stopped Working.


Now they tell me

I may be properly fucked

(Well at least it don’t cause WuFlu)

Chris Ledoux-Copenhagen:

How I live my life (But Y’all already know this):

Video compilation credit: biggestkkfan

I Really Don’t Like to Use Euphemisms, Clichés, Vapid Expressions, ‘Nice-Polite-Speech,’ Trite Sayings, Bull-Shite! I Hate That! With All My Might!

It’s Like Wearing Chain Leggings After A Ship Wreck and Yer Just Hoping To Reach The Beach. But To Be Completely Honest With My Readers, (Which I Have Always Promised to Be)… Trying to Mend My Speech Runs So Contrary Against My Sanity. I’m Just Sayin’. Still Waters Run Deep. Please Try To Remember That.

“Soft Language”

Cred: George


“You Don’t Find Roses Growin’ On Stalks Of Clover”



is a ‘Fricken’…




Sexy Video!


Just Fuckin’ Wow!




Paula Abdul!

Eat Your Heart Out!

J/K Paula!




This One Below!

I fu*ked up the Sequence!

So typical of Me!


Creds For The Two Above: Martina McBride

Cred: Lynn Anderson


But I Do respect The Fact That Some of My Prose Is Found To Be Offensive. I am trying To Do Better—Please Don’t Hate Me.

I am a Sailor—Old Habits Die Hard. I am Really Trying To Do Better. It has Never been My Intention to Offend (Well There Have Been A FEW Exceptions)

Theist Named “Kent”

But My Intend Is To Leave this World As A Better Man

Than I Have Been

Clint Black was born in Long Branch, New Jersey, one of four children born to G.A. and Ann Black. The family moved back to Texas, where G.A. Black had been raised, before Clint was one year old. He was raised in Katy, Texas. Music was always present in the house.

(I cannot rem from where I stole this. Screw it!)


Cred For Vid: Gaming with Shao


I yam what I yam!

I use A LOT of Profanity

I’m a fucking sailor!

What else would you expect?

From a fuckin’ sailor

And saying “I’m sorry” for what I am ain’t in my repertoire, or bag of tricks.

Some shit that needs to be removed from the writing/speaking vernacular:

“At the end of the day…”

(I heard some asshole use this one three times on CNN during a ninety second interview. I wish I were making this up. I ain’t.)

“Think outside the box”

“As we speak”

“All that said”

I could go on, but pretty sure you caught my drift (another trite Cliché–sometimes, I will admit, they are ‘useful’


I have high hopes for us as writers.

To be more original.

I know we can do it!


I’m Really Having a Bad Day, Problem Today! I Miss My Sister! “Twisted Duet (Just One More Madelyn Memory…)” I Was in Denial for Years! Now, recently, the dark, stark realization washes over me, I cannot deal with this! I Miss My Sis! I Miss My Sister!

One Saturday night, Madelyn and I (And Jennifer Rambo)

Found ourselves standing before Daddy.

In His Study.

That Bitch Gloria

(My Step-Mom)

was there as Well.

Our ‘Mission’… was to procure/beg money.

Maddy and Jennifer did this Joni (as a) Duet and Perfection two-part Harmony:

a capella!


Street Cred For The Vid: JoniJourney

(It was Brilliant!)

It worked.

But Madelyne never failed to understand / underestimate her powers


(They Got Ten bucks.
And left.

As Madelyn was hitting the ‘Exit Door,’

(With her combined fortune of twenty bucks)

she cast a ‘sideways’ glance at me over her shoulder and grinned, not un-like a Cheshire Kitty.

I knew exactly what she said, un-said:

Try to follow my act Asshole. Love Ya! Mean it! Good Luck!



That Bitch Gloria then looked me up-and-down, said,

“Well, Lance? What can YOU do?”

I wanted to say,

“I Can Strangle you in your sleep Bitch!”

“I can strangle you in your sleep.”

I really wanted to say that!

But of course, I didn’t say that.

So, I said, “I Cain’t sing or dance; I just want ten bucks.”

Daddy smiled at me.

Pulled out his wallet again, gave me a ‘tenner’—and said,

“Here you go Son. Be careful.”

That Bitch Gloria was not amused.

But I was.

As I exited Stage Right.



I miss Madelyn so much.

And I miss Daddy.

Of Course.


Some day, one day, I will empty gallons of virtual ink… about my father.

But I am not yet ready.

Not Today

Must Re-Post Because I’m An Idiot. And a Sentimental Old Fool. “Leonard Cohen’s Muse–Suzanne Verdal, & Musing About Muses–Or, What You Will (“And you know that she’s half-crazy”–therein lies the attraction…)”

Suzanne Verdal:

Fascinatingly, Beautiful, Fantastic, Ethereal Woman.
And The Quintessential, Perfect Muse.
And this is gonna sound ‘messed up,’ but Suzanne reminds me of my Mother:
One of The ‘Original Hippy Chicks.’

My Beautiful Mother:

(Link Also Awaiting Your Perusal at the End of this Post–‘Turtle Blues.’)

No ‘New’ Prose From Me Found Here Today.

Just some very-much-worth-watching videos

If you are a ‘writer,’ that is


I Will Pen Some-New-Shit…







If you have yet to read my “Abusive Muse” Series,

you may discover the link at the bottom of this post.

Cheers Y’all!



Suzanne is….

So Wonderfully Charming.

So Charming.

So Charming.

So Charming.


Cohen’s Writing ‘Process.’

(I cannot Find the Original Poster of this Post to Credit—G’dammmnit)

As Promised Up Above:

My Mother–The Original Hippy Chick:

Hint: Not Really My Mother, but how she saw herself



(If you do not Appreciate My Sense of Twisted Humor, You Most-Likely took a wrong Turn at Albuquerque)


Video Credit:  ‘Joni Journey’