Tattoo (or ‘This is awkward,’ or ‘Open for Suggestion’)

Author’s Note:

Yes. I’ve done some incredibly stupid shit in my time.

Below is an actual-for-real email I sent to a soon-to-be former boss (an attractive lady-boss, of course.) and is sadly very close to the top of the Misfit Hit Parade of lame-ass-actions I have perpetrated on innocents.

***

I have swerved into the solution for Drunken Emails.

Who could’ve known it would be this simple?

Street Cred for Vid: Big Play Films

***

From: Moron <lance_moron@misfits.fubar> cc bcc:

To: Lady_Boss@job.yrfired

Subject: Tattoo

Dear Suki,

Yes, I am getting a tattoo (for my ‘mousing’ musing hand).

It will read simply, succinctly, in Big Bold Letters:

“No!”

Subtle Reminder:

“No! Don’t Go There Lance!”

Brevity? Yes. (‘That soul of wit.’)

“Words have meaning Son,” my father often told me.

And short words, I have discovered, oft hold the most meaningful meaning.

It has been ‘awkward’ (to say the very least) to face you of late.

After my ‘email shot-gunning’ you, off-the-chain escapade of recent shameful regret, but… I did it and today found the courage to read all of what I did send and happily discovered, most were not of the obnoxious caliber of my historical wont.

Thank God and Baby Hey Zeus!

Alas, I wish I had an excuse.

Yet, in searching, there is one to be discovered, but so probably painfully evident that it requires no verbalization:

Two times per year, I get to ‘explore’ my darker side.

Two times per year, I choose a ‘lucky’ recipient to ‘share’ in my darkness.

Two times per year someone gets to be ‘it’.

Guess what?!

Tag!

You won!

You’re the New ‘IT’ Girl!

Congratulations!

You’re in Good Company.

Clara Bow: The Original It Girl, 1927

***

The thing about writers (and those so-called writers who call themselves ‘writers’) is that they are so full of themselves, and vain by nature (it is requisite-with the breed), and every writer and so-called writer I have ever met, are… assholes. All.

Vain, pompous, drinks-too-much, full of sound and fury, and desperate.

“A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

Desperate for…

Crying for…

Waiting for…

FEEDBACK

I am not (not really) stupid.

I know you cannot ‘comment’ nor even acknowledge, via email, all the posts I posted ‘at you.’

I dare say you would be wise to ignore me and my ramblings, given our professional relationship.

Yet, if you did read even one of the posts on my blog, (actually I think you read the first one I begged you to read—not the ‘best’ one, but one which apparently was on my mind–at the time)

It is a very simple thing to comment, ‘in disguise’ as

‘anonymous.’

Or ‘any-mouse.’

Or simply, “A Fan.” (tongue in cheek)

Too easy.

Do that once and I will be sated.

Do it twice and you get a Mickey Mouse Pencil Sharpener,

OR

An Autographed 8X10 Hollywood-Type-Glossy Photograph of Jesus Christ.

Sermon-on-the-mount, highly recommended, and our best-seller

But you cannot have both; there is a limited supply.

Do it thrice:  You should seek counsel.

Professional help.

Honestly.

Never mind…

“Writers are assholes.”

“Lance is a ‘writer’”

“Ergo, Lance is an asshole.”

***

Suki,

There is a point to this post, but most assuredly, I have forgotten my initial inclination in that regard.

***‘Jeopardy musical theme plays***

Oh yes!

Now I’ve got it!

This is my convoluted apology to you.

I am, and shall always remain, an Honorable Military Man.

I am cognizant of the duty (and the mission)

And, admitting I was wrong is something which seems to be easier (and more difficult—same time) to do lately.

My first wife once accused me of aspiring to be “King of the Idiots.”

(She was an idiot savant…well, you’d have to know her to get my meaning, yet, I think–know, that I have posted about her…ON-MY-BLOG)

Back to my point:

Suki,

I am beginning to grow bored with my job.

You are the best supervisor/boss I have had in recent memory. All, and I do mean ALL respect you.

This should be enough for me (and for the foreseeable future it shall be)

But…

I don’t like to shit where I eat, BUT (and this is a curse), I have a opinions and I need to get that tattoo—post haste—and with all due prejudice.

I like you Suki.

I respect you.

I am trying to help you professionally (in my way).

And NO!

I am not trying to ‘do’ anything other than ‘talk’ to you and ‘work’ for you.

To quote Nixon:

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear…”

I am a whore, but only when it comes to my writing.

Nothing else these days (aside from my computer addiction) means anything to me.

Rest easy.

I am not as bad as I may, at first glance, seem.

(Truth: I am worse, but I do not bring that to WORK)

Cheers,

Lance

(Yes: you may quote me. I’d be flattered…. Hahahahaaa)

See you on Friday.

And remember not to work too hard.

Life’s best moments can be fleeting.

Cherish Them

***

Number One

Beautiful Joni

Escape Velocity: “A Consummation Devoutly to be Wished”

Author’s Note July 11, 2021: This was a stream of consciousness from 2014, and being such, I will not edit it (overmuch). Here it is, in all of its naked, unpolished bullshit rawness.

“Uh, Mister God… Could you slow the world down just for a moment? I wanna get off. Thanks.”

–Lance

***

Now there is a good term from the Cold War, i.e., ‘Le Space Race.’
However, it still rings true today; rings true as something, almost… unattainable, yet so very much coveted.
“Escape Velocity”


Cal Gone! Take me away! (sic) Yeah: sick.


Point is, I have spent the better part of my life ‘playing’ computer games. Some might be tempted to label them ‘video’ games.
(“They are NOT video games Love: they are the ways I increase my mental, mental…”)


Old Story warning here:


That guy. That guy, who used to write about distance running, what was his name? Oh Yeah! Joe Henderson; I read all of his books… Oh yeah! He died of a heart-attack… Just details…
He wrote a bit.
His bit went something like this:


He was ‘runnin’ down a road. Some kid says, “Hey, Hi! Mister Jogger!”
He replied, “Hey Kid! I am not a jogger; I am a runner! A ‘Runner!’ Get it right!”
The kid replied, “Well then, why are you jogging?”


I had to laugh; been there, et etcetera…


This is the part where I get pissed. (And when I get pissed… well, you won’t like me)
The worst thing one (amongst the uninitiated) can say, proclaim:
“Are you still playin’ that damn stupid video game?!!”
Perfect retort:
“Yes Madame. I am.”
“Oh. Well, be a good boy and don’t go downtown, protesting’ and such…”
“Yessum. I won’t”
“Good boy there then…”
“Yes, Ma’am.” (“Now Fuck Off” This is what I did truly think)

But, SHE did have a point, but MY ‘point’ swerved into something else, which I really do not wanna talk about.

But I will.
My point it thus: Kids that played computer games in the Eighties are now in charge of our world.
And to loosely quote Forrest Gump:
“That is all I am gonna say about that.”

Some thoughts?

And P.S., Yes! I have, recently, been spending some quality time with some of my computer games. They know me there, and I don’t have to get too creative (actually, I do, but most…) Well, I don’t have to watch my language at least.

My blogging experience is failing me of late. Not to say that I do not appreciate The Community. Just to say… that I am between gigs and this is beginning to weigh upon me.

Certainly, I will be about, but please do not chastise me for not visiting your respective blogs on a respective basis. (My intent is to intentionally do so, albeit, tomorrow), yet… I am real tired.

And my health is no good.

I will catch up…

mañana,

I Promise.

“For Love or Money”

And yeah! In case you missed my ‘subliminal’ bullshit: (The Joni song) I still miss 

Shonnie

***

Tuesday Ed. Note: This Post Makes Absolutely NO SENSE

Hahahahaha

“I dreamt a dream tonight” Of Queen Mab, or “Whatever Your Will, Will”

“Oh Good God! Lance is posting yet more ‘driveling-snivelings’ about writers, writing, and his writing travails! He wears me out!”

“Well, you may thank Mister Ohh over at His Place for prompting me to resurrect this long since dead post on the subject. Have a pleasant journey and be sure to give him my best regards while you are there. Ohh! (See what I just did there?) Oh btw, the password is “Mo’ Sent me.” ‘Mo, being shorthand for ‘Moron.’ Gawd! I crack me up! Ha. Ha. Ha.

The Angry Mab

Credit: deviantart.com

“I dreamt a dream tonight.”

“And so did I.”

“Well, what was yours?”

“That dreamer’s often lie.”

“…In bed asleep while they do dream things true!”

“Oh! Then I see Queen Mab hath been with you!”

–R&M: Romeo and Mercutio

***

“Peace, Good Mercutio. Peace. Thou talks of nothing. Thou talkst of nothing.”

“True. True. I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain. Begot of nothing but  vain fantasy, which is as thin of substance as the air and more inconstant than the wind who woes even now the frozen bosom of the north, and being angered puffs away from thence, turning his side to the dew-dropping south.”

Thou Talkst of Nothing

***

After a night of hard blogging and writing of drafts, and becoming somewhat disillusioned and more than daft, I perished toward my bed, reaching out for the Arms of Morpheus.

Within moments I slipped into that Hypnagogic Sleep, that strange place between two worlds, that semi-conscious state of being, yet not being,

“Illumined Pleasure”

Salvador Dali 1928

Sleep, but Not Sleep.

Then I began to dream things that should have been true.

But were not true

Yet so true.

Wonderful words words words!

Words to sate my unnourished prose.

Words swirl’d about in my mind like so many fireflies on a summer’s eve:

“Words, words, words!. Once, I had the gift. I could make love out of words as a potter makes cups of clay. Love that overthrows empires. Love that binds two hearts together, come hellfire & brimstone.”

— “Will Shakespeare in Love”

I had it (them, those) words… goin’ on.

Brilliant words. Beautiful, poignant words! All right there!

Right there In My Mind

Hovering, floating just above the surface

I reached out my finger to tap the “Publish Mouse”

My finger was frozen

It would not move

How hard I did try!

It would not comply!

I lay there in Nether Sleep,

Commanding!

Demanding!

The hand, one digit, just the finger!

Just move the damn finger!

Would not

Could not

Then I realized

“I am with Dante now”

And he mocked me

“Here are the words you seek”

***

But I Did Not want to be with Dante.

I wanted to be with my Lost Muse.

Y’all remember her:

The Abusive One.

“Hey! Lance Needs Help! He’s Goin’ Down for the Third Time!” or, “Does This Font Make My Blog Look Fat?”

“Just toss him a beer and that ‘Mae West Vest’. He’ll be fine.”

“But Sir, he quit drinking months ago.”

“Well Christ! That’s probably most of his problem right there. Ok, fish him aboard. I’ll have some ‘chat’ with him; get to the nature of his ‘Urgent Urgency’.”

I’m not drownin’.

Just Flounderin’.

***       

But toss me That Mae any-wayyy.

You may keep the beer.

Just asking advice / feedback from

‘The Community’

‘My Community’

‘Our Community’

The ‘Blogging / Writing Community.’

The ‘La Cosa Nostra’ of our ‘Unique Community’

“Uh, Lance?”

“Yes?”

“Is there something, anything, anything at all you are about to actually ask us?”

“Uh, yeah, Yeah. Sorry, got carried away by the current there for a sec.”

“Go on.”

“In truth, it’s just a simple question. Not really much to it at all in fact. But, in my recent writings… not so much the ‘writings’ per se, not sure I’d ever call some of them ‘writing’. It’s more about well, kinda embarrassing to ask, but you see, when constructing… or is it ‘destructing’… or perhaps re-constructing the previously de-constructed or de-constructing the previously con-structed, or just possibly…”

“As Brevity is the Soul of Wit, I shall be Brief”

“More Matter With Less Art

“Enough! Good God Man! Get To-The-Bloody-Point!”

“Alright already! Sheesh!  My query is thus…”

“Is the font I’ve been using too large? Do you think my readers find it obnoxious? Obtrusive? Even abusive to the eye? Self aggrandizing even? I use it ‘cause I can’t see for shit these days and…”

“Yeah, Yeah! We get your point. Finally! We’ll take your request under sober consideration and get back to you presently.”

“Next!”

“I just want to express my deepest, humblest, sincerest thank you for what…”

“Are you still Here Marcom? You have been summarily dismissed! You will hear from us presently. Now haul ass!”

“Thank you. Thank you all. Y’all…”

“BE GONE!”

*Lance slowly and deliberately backs out of the room. Softly closing the door behind him*

***

‘Verbosity’ is the Soul of My (and Sponge Bob’s) Wit

Well, I’d like to think so…

Spongebob Theme But Overly Verbose

Street Cred for Vid: Gigaflare8822

***

Author’s Note:

(At the end this time)

Of late I have been committing The First & Worst Deadly Sin:

‘Burying The Lede’

This unhappy behaviour must cease and desist immediately.

***

Here is the ‘Note’ Placed in its Proper Place:

I am taking a ‘brief’ break from re-writing ‘Shonnie.’

Bringing her back into me, back into my life, reliving her, re-falling-in-love-with-her, horribly missing her…

And as much excitement and joy as I may expierence in the re-riding of that emotional roller-coaster enterprise, bringing her back has, of late, become too emotionally painful for me.

I just need a break.

So I am taking one.

Maybe.

Shonnie is exhausting.

Yet exhilarating to remember.

She wore me out once.

Now she is doing it all-over-again…

“Way to go Shonnie. Wish you could see me now. You would, no doubt, laugh your little darling ass off.”

***

***

Some Added ‘Added Value’ below for all you ‘Word Nerds’ out there in Radio Land.

(You’re Welcome)

***

Why is it Spelled “Lede”

The spelling lede is an alteration of lead, a word which, on its own, makes sense; after all, isn’t the main information in a story found in the lead (first) paragraph? And sure enough, for many years lead was the preferred spelling for the introductory section of a news story.

So how did we come to spell it lede?

Although evidence dates the spelling to the 1970s, we didn’t enter lede in our dictionaries until 2008. For much of that time, it was mostly kept under wraps as in-house newsroom jargon.

Once, Al Marlens, the assistant managing editor, told one of the cleaning men to walk up to me and ask to see my lede, “not lead,” a newsie slang for the first sentence of a story.

—Myron S. Waldman, Forgive Us Our Press Passes, 1991

Spelling the word as lede helped copyeditors, typesetters, and others in the business distinguish it from its homograph lead (pronounced \led\ ), which also happened to refer to the thin strip of metal separating lines of type (as in a Linotype machine). Since both uses were likely to come up frequently in a newspaper office, there was a benefit to spelling the two words distinctly.

William Safire, who knew a thing or two about newsrooms, wrote in his New York Times “On Language” column in 1990, “Wouldn’t it be easier if the noun for the metal were spelled the way it sounded (led, to rhyme with dead) and the noun for the beginning of a newspaper story were spelled the way it is pronounced (lede, or leed, to rhyme with deed)?”

Others have been less than willing to embrace the new spelling. At The Awl, founder Choire Sicha tore out at those who use lede like it’s an affectation:

You schmucks who use ridiculous journo-terms make me crazy! Finally, someone is willing to speak out against the use of “lede” in public. Because, ha ha, sucka, there’s no reason for it! (Plus, MOST OF YOU ARE JUST BLOGGERS.)

—Choire Sicha, The Awl, 19 Sept. 2011

That “someone” was Howard Owens, a writer who has speculated that the flourishing of lede in the 1970s is ironic given that Linotype machines were starting to be phased out from newsrooms around that time. Owens attributes the fondness for the spelling to nostalgia, calling it “an invention of linotype romanticists, not something used in newsrooms of the linotype era.”

Despite the acknowledgment of lede by Safire and others, and its subsequent use by journalists and non-journalists alike, phrases employing the traditional spelling of lead still find their way into print:

But because I didn’t want Marshall’s piece to get lost in a big evening, I’ve buried the lead: The New Music Group was followed by a late-night appearance of wild Up, with Christopher Rountree conducting his increasingly impressive young ensemble in three more premieres

Mark Swed, Los Angeles Times, 2 Oct. 2016

Needless to say, don’t want to bury the lead, but I think there could be a second day of down for Apple (AAPL) — said so myself in a video I did with Jack Mohr (see above) — but if you don’t own any, by all means don’t let me stop you from buying some.

Jim Cramer, TheStreet.com, 26 Oct. 2016

This is sure to become one of those longstanding usage debates that will have its hard-liners on both sides, and perhaps reveal a little bit about the writer’s familiarity with the news business.

Credit:

https://www.merriam-webster.com/words-at-play/bury-the-lede-versus-lead

“Tuesday’s Tirade” or ”Curmudgeon’s Complaint” or “Just The Rants, Sir. Just The Rants”

Author’s Note:

*Taps Mic*

“Uh… Is this thing on?”

*Screeching Mic Feedback*

“Ouch! Guess it is.”

*Clears Throat*

“Uh… Hi Y’all.”

*Crowd Grumbles*–

“Speak UP!

“Uh… HOWDY Y’ALL!”

*Crowd in Unison*–

“You said that already! Git on wid it!”

“Okay! Okay! This is just me, being me. Allowing me, for today, to indulge the ‘Right Side of Me’. That’s All.

Please Enjoy.

Or not.”

*Crowd Collectively Moans*

***

“So… Worried much about Western Civilization?”

“Not particularly. Not tonight.”

“It’s collapsing. Or Hadn’t you noticed?”

“I live in a pretty good neighborhood.”

‘About Last Night’

Director: Edward Zwick

Studio Credit: TriStar Pictures

Film Based On The Play “Sexual Perversity in Chicago” by David Mamet

***

“Are YOU Ready for SOME FOOTBALL?!!!”

“Nope.”

“Butt. Butt… BUTT??!

“Precisely the Problem.”

“Oh.”

Credit: Salty Cracker

***

WHATEVER Happened to THESE people?

Where did THEY go?

Street Cred for Vid: Steven Shehori

***

“Why does the sun go on shining?

Why does the sea rush to shore?

Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?

It ended when you said ‘goodbye’”

–Skeeter Davis

Street Cred for Vid: TheOldrecordclub

***

It May be The-End-of-The-World

(As we know it)

But Lance Feels Fine!

He Feels Fine…

Performance Credit: R.E.M.

Street Cred for Vid: remhq

***

Cheers Y’all!

P.S.

Oh, and just to bundle up that thought about ‘Butts’

I found the perfect new vocation for any future Unemployed NFL Executives.

They’d be Naturals

Just like these two intrepid entrepreneurs:

A ‘Tuesday’ Throwback or, if you will: “Why Ruby Did It”

Jack Ruby (born Jacob Leon Rubenstein; MAR 25, 1911 – JAN 3, 1967)

Why Jack? Oh Why?!

Of course if you want the answer to that

Burning Behind the Grassy Knoll

question, all you need do is listen to Lenny.

Look no further.

Lenny Has This One Covered Y’all:

Before We Proceed, here is a ‘Disclaimer’ by way of an Author’s Note:

‘Slightly’ re-worked, but I left in all theIncoherent Bullshit’

(For ‘Hysterical / Historical Purposes of Course.)

***

Or, if you ain’t ‘into’ Lenny, I suppose you could just ask Lance, as his erstwhile step-mom, Gloria, had worked for Jack during the Sixties in his

‘Carousel Club’.

Carousel Club, Dallas; owned and managed by Jack Ruby, 11/24/1963

According to Gloria, Jack was very, very proud of his Club and always referred to it as, wait for it…

“A Real First Class Joint.”

She never told me precisely what it was that she did there for Jack, by way of gainful employment. And in truth, I really didn’t wanna know.

Whatever it was that she did do for Jack, it was probably not what these girls did.

(For ‘Their Jack’)

She, Gloria… er… was not ‘qualified’

The ‘REAL Gloria

She prob’ly sold cigarettes or sumthin’.

The ‘Fake’ Gloria

(Sorry. But there never was any love lost between me and Gloria. This paralyzed fact is well-documented and may easily be discovered in the pages of my blog.)

And if you, any of you, breath, yeah ‘breath’. A single word of this to my also erstwhile step-sister…Whom I love dearly, well, that breath, will, yes will, be your last…

***

Sadly, Very Sadly, I must update this for 2021:

***

(And, as always, Most Everything I just typo’d, said, thought… well, it’s all bullshit.)

(NOT THE PARTS REGARDING MADELYN. THAT IS NOT BULLSHIT)

***

I was born’d, rear’d an’ raised in California. Northern California. I have never even SEEN Texas. (Just read about it is all.)

In books an’ shit.

And on some old pirate maps.

Just funnin’… I’m only Half-Crazy.

Just tryin’ to make up for all those “Thursday Throwbacks” I missed out cashing in on during my recent

‘Sabbatical’

Yeah, I always considered ‘Throwback Thursdays’ somewhat of a ‘gift.’ I mean, if I had nothing to write I could always dig down into those old archives, et voila! There ya go! Instant Post! Keep Feedin’ Them Fishes! Yada, Yada, Yaaaa Duh!

(In Some Truth: I just wanted to put up some Lenny Bruce–for ‘Old Time’s Sake’)

And it kind of goes along with that Brother Dave post from a day or two ago.

(See? There is some continuity to my mind)

Believe that? Really? Wanna buy a bridge? Cheap? Real Cheap!

I generally spend about ten minutes ‘writing a post’. Then three minutes waiting on ‘spell check’ to remind me that I cannot spell ‘cat.’ Then two minutes (except for the upload wait) to upload photos/videos. One minute at the ‘final’ look.

Then: Click that ‘sucker’.

That ‘Publish’ button.

And pray.

Done!

Rinse and repeat the next day. This bothers me. Why? Because, as all of us (may) feel, we can write so much better.

Alas, I am lazy. I just want to get it out there… Catch the likes; catch the comments. Fuck the quality! “They” know what I mean… Don’t they? I mean, they read me! Not too much need for exposition, ya? ‘They git it, eh?’

(Lance removes tongue-from-cheek)

Just some musings from an amusing, dazed and confusing, wanna-be writer/blogger. Take with however many grains of salt you require.

(And Comment),

If you’re of a mind to, and/or have an opinion on the ‘writing/blogging’ process.

Cheers, Lancers

***

Well, I do not seem capable of shutting the hell up…

“I had the right to remain silent, but I didn’t have the ability.”

“I have never had an original thought; I don’t live in a vacuum.”

–Lenny Bruce

And if this ain’t poignant for today… Well then. I do not know what is, or could be ‘is.’

Take a listen: All ‘Policemans’ in NYC might even appreciate. If they can read, that is…

(Just Kidding!)

And I wanna be ‘Your Lenny

There is a vid credit, but I lost it. His lawyers will surely contact mine…Right here on TT&H

****

Moving on…

Now, this is some strange form of Serendipitous Bullshit. But I didn’t look it in the mouth; I appreciated my opportunity.

I actually shook his hand.

This Great Man’s Hand was ‘Shook’ by My Hand.

Only in America!

“Hail Cesar!”

“Oh Hail Yes!”

Specifically In San’ Dog, California.

He weren’t none of that.

He was some, most, but not all.

Yet he was a great and actually humble man.

He was merely a man with a plan.

And He was The Real Deal!

I loved him for that.

Just like I loved Woody

And His Son

And as I respect and admire and love all the Great Americans who struggle for Equality and Freedom and Justice for all.

***

This concludes our regularly un-scheduled broadcast.

***

*Lance climbs down off his Soapbox*

*Resumes primary vocation with his co-workers*