Yeah, I am Lazy. I Keep Re-Postin’ Old Shite. Git Over It! “California on my Mind MINE? MiNd? No, I Don’t Mind! I No Longer Have The TIME! (NOR The Damn Dime Neither)”

So Let’s Just Call The Whole Thing Off!

You’ll Have to Scroll Down For Ginger;

I Got Distracted.

Yes; It Happens From time-To-Time

I No Longer Have One Dime.

Nor a Brain

Yet, Poverty & Ignorance is Bliss–

I am Blessed to Have Both

“Hey Brother, can you spare a dime?

I seem to have misplaced mine”

But Texas Always in my Heart?

Huh?

And OnCE A’GIN” fUK u word-de-Pressed! i CANnOT DeDIite This! Why Not? Why The Fuk NOT? Fuk U Word-Disstressed!

I have spilled’d way too

Much Virtual Ink on California Yeah!

I spent Above My ‘Income’

No Breakin’ News Nor Revelation

To Be Discovered There!

Yeah! I once spent a Night in The Hotel Del…Cost me a Month’s Navy Pay… Well worth it, even tho I DID NOT Get Laid… Story of my Life! Still Worth it.

“Welcome to Hotel Hell”

Back When, Way Back When!

When I was in SEAL Train’in’

So What????

The Hotel Del Did NOT

Impress Me!

Mother-fu*k California!

Jes Kidd’n

I LoVe Her!

Almost HALF as Much as I Love TEXAS!

But Not Quite.

Aerosmith – Crazy 

GTT

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)

I really don’t care at this point

****

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.

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