Shonnie The Biker’s Wife Part VIII: “The Blackjack Enlightenment of Miss Jean Brodie… Er… I Meant ‘Shonnie’” I LOVE Veg’s! Wht Ws Yer First Clue?

Yeh, Eh Key is Still Borked.

Either I Need New Life, or New Wife,

Or New Hobby.

Eh, & I C’not Ef-Ford NE of Those.

 “I love Las Vegas! Jesus Christ do I love Vegas! I’ll make it, make it good and clear; it’s because my Girl’s Right HERE!”

–Dean Martin

“And MY Shonnie’s Right THERE!

Wearing Her ‘Come Hither’ Stare!”

–Lance ‘Martin’ Marcom

Vid Cred: icamatrix


I took Shonnie by the hand and we waltzed over to a blackjack table.

‘One Dollar Minimum Bet’

This was to be a training session and a trial run. An ‘Introduction’, or ‘Baptism’, or ‘Enlightenment, if you will.

Then again, it could just as quickly and easily degrade into a ‘Fiasco’, a ‘Waste of Time‘, an ‘Exercise in Futility’, given Shonnie’s paucity of patience.

“Hey! You said something about teaching me ‘counting down the deck’ in Blackjack. Was that bullshit, or what? I have never played blackjack. What is that anyway, counting down the deck? What does it mean?” She demanded.

“Lower your voice to somewhere around a three on your dial. And never use the ‘C Word’.

“Huh? The ‘C’ word?”

“Counting” I whispered.

She lowered her voice almost to a whisper, a difficult accomplishment for her. “Oh, Okay ‘Mister Mystery-Man’, I won’t use any ‘C’ words, until I call you out for being a ‘cunt’.”

“I’m a ‘man’. I can’t be a ‘cunt’.”

“Oh yes you can. I have met lots of ‘man-cunts’ in my day.” She did not whisper that, drawing some looks from nearby innocent bystanders.

Trying to ignore her remark for now, I said, “Just try to aim for ‘discreet’. This is Blackjack, not Craps. Blackjack is more subtle, more subdued, more cerebral. Craps is for screamin’ and hollerin’ and gettin’ rowdy. Blackjack is diametrically opposed and polarity opposite.”

“Do you ever speak ‘honest’ fucking English? You know, without all the bullshit fancy words that no one gives a rat’s ass to hear. You’re not as smart as you think you are, Cowboy.”

“Ah now, come on Lil Miss, Ah jes tryin’ ta inject ah little bit ah refinery into yer head.”

“Stop right now, or I am gonna ‘inject’ my fist into your head. Now, in English, tell me what is Blackjack. ‘Condensed’ ‘Abridged’ version if-you-please. See there Schmuck? I know a few ‘fancy six-bit words’ too.”

“Touché,” I said.

She smacked me hard on my ass.

I continued, “Surely you played ‘Twenty-One’ as a kid, right? Or was it all ‘Strip Poker’ or ‘Strip Her and Poke Her’ with The Boys-on-The-Block?”

“I’m warning you Asshole,” she said playfully, almost tenderly.

Shonnie is the only woman I have ever known who can successfully use ‘Asshole’ as a term of endearment.

“Okay. Okay. Seriously Shonnie, I just want you to get a feel for the game. Tomorrow, I will teach you how to count. You seem to have some ‘Rain Man’ in ya. No offense.”

“Rain Man?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you later. You just listen to me, and as we play, and I’ll teach you all about what are called the ‘Basic Strategy’ rules of the game and more important, the rules you never, ever break while playing. Not The Dealer, nor the other players will mind or care.”

“Besides,” I continued, “It’s common for neophyte players to show up at a ‘Dollar Minimum’ table and get verbal instructions, even from the Dealer, if the dealer has any class at all, that is. Tomorrow, we’ll hit The El Cortez, and we’ll be in disguise. They have one of the last double-deck games in town.”

El Cortez is Jumpin’! Hahaha!

Worth a read: One of my ‘El Cortez Moments’


“El Cortez? Double deck? Disguise? Get the fuck out! And, by the way, I don’t remember seeing any ‘El Cortez’ anywhere.”

Not surprised you missed it. It’s a bit of a rundown joint… But in a good way, in the tradition of the old ‘Sawdust Joints’. Don’t worry. They used to know me there. Hopefully they have forgotten that they used to know me there. I’ll explain later. Please sit down and think about what you want to drink. The waitress will need to know.”

We sat at ‘Third Base.’ Well technically, ‘I’ sat at third base. Shonnie sat next to me.

‘Third Base’

“Card counters actually have an advantage when it comes to the seating. These players are recommended to sit in the third base position to give them more time to keep an eye on the table, as well as count, and of course bet last.”

Credit: Blackjack Australia


The dealer was a perky blond. Her name tag announced

“I’m Debbie-From-Des Moines”

Live it Up!”


This Here’s Debbie. Kinda Cute an’ Innocent-Lookin’ Ain’t She? Be Thee Not Deceived;

She’ll Take ALL Your Money Ere You Leave

(If You Grow Careless)

Trust Me


And as the hours passed by, I taught her Basic Strategy Blackjack. She was good with it. Grudgingly very good with it. (My gal ain’t stupid, just stubborn and impatient.)

We never bet much. This was just for training after all, (and we already had our stake from Shonnie’s earlier very profitable ‘Dice-Capades) and I distrusted the dealers at the Plaza anyhow, so we just chilled. Well, at least I chilled… and taught.

“This is boring.” she said rather abruptly.

“Honey, you’re learning the game. Relax.”

“I like craps better.”

“Darling, we all do, but Craps is all about luck and guts and gambling. Blackjack is all about skill, smarts, strategy, and patience. ‘Patience’, I realize, is not your strong suit, and I know from time to time I strain what little you have, but this game is gonna pay off for us tomorrow night. Trust me.”


We continued with the Blackjack Lessons for a few more hours.

Shonnie was growing weary and bitchy and mouthy so I called an end to the training session, satisfied enough by then with her understanding of the game.

We walked over to the coffee shop and I bought her a bagel with cream cheese (Her favorite food-of-the-moment, she claimed) Then I took her off to bed.

She was beyond ready, and fell asleep just as soon as blond hair hit white pillow. I gently pulled the blanket over her petite little, exhausted body.

I was left alone with my thoughts, my plans, and a hard on.

“Sleep Princess,” I whispered to her, “And I have something important to tell you tomorrow.”

She stirred a bit and moaned, but did not hear.

I lay down beside her, wrapped myself around her, and slept too.

And dreamt happy dreams.



“Shonnie The Biker’s Wife, Part IX: Counting”

Update: Part IX is Up


If you are new here, or a long-lost returning Pilgrim, you may want to begin your Shonnie Journey Below

And then simply “Follow the Yellow Brick Road”

i.e., The Lancelot Links:


I Know! I Know! I Know!! I Know I Know I know I KNOW I … I Know I Know I Know I Know I Know I am, Am A Too Fu*king Well-KNOWN Moron.–What of It?

Being Well-Known and Eight Bits Might, Just Might

Get You A Cup Of Coffee.

If You’re Lucky And Have Not Sinned Recently.

Guess That Counts ME Out


Asshole! I KNOw I KnOw I know I’m a Fukking asshole! I am, A fuckkking Asshole! But I AM not f*CkIN’ sTUpId!

“Shoot Low Sir; I Think she’s Riding a Shetland.”

I Know! Hand Me the Rifle, watch this and STFU!

I Know I Know I Know…


Bill Withers – Ain’t No Sunshine

Did Y’all Count the “I Knows?”

I Know I know That I did.

I Counted Twenty-Four–

But then, I’m see’in’ Double

Foreigner – Double Vision:


Yer Mileage May Vary

Cred for Vid: Andres Trevino


Texas ain’t ’bout SHit

She is sublime!

In My Mind!

I Created Her In My Mind-Time

But! Go Ahead!

Spend a dime!

Take some Time

And Go Ahead

Live With Me!


My Vain Fantasy!

Shoot Low Sir; I Think she’s Riding a Shetland.


“Deep In The Heart Of Texas”


I made her

(My Muse)

In My Mind!


I will expand on thIS LAtR


(iF yer Lucky)

This is SEXIST aSK

Ask me hoW maNY Fuks

I Don’t Give!

God Blesse’d Texas!

Fun Fact:

Rhonda and I, My Second or Third,

Lived Less Than Three Mile From

SouthFork “Ranch”,

In Plain’Oh


Our Tailor PARK

Was Called


I am NOT

Making This Up!

U Can Look it Up!

(It is Still There!)

But they No Longer Call Them

“Trailer Parks”

They are Now…

“Mobile-Home Communities

Fuk Me!

I am Just Plain ‘Ol White Trash


Proud of it


You Broke it!

You Fix it!

I don’t C’AAre, Nor gi\ve a fuk!

All the Y’alls


Friday Night Lights:

All the Y’alls from Tami Taylor

Yu Fix This Chocolate Mess!

I don’t Have The Time

WP is Stupid…

It is NOT Even Intuitive!—

This is ‘Tweenty-One

Hav’ Fun!

Cred: Chris Spags Ate all, Y’all

& K.Ryan Jones (I Think)

And, Please Don’t Quote Me

(I Have More Than Enough Illegal Troubles Already)


Lyle, I LOVE IT!”

Watch This GD it

More Bonus OnUS!

This Bares Repeating–I Love Writers! Real, Wanna-Be, Aspirational, Sincere, Even Just Wanna-Be Writers. (As am I) I Am Proud To Read, And To Walk Among Them.

I Love Ever’Thang About What We Try To Be As Writers, How We Support One Another,

As Opposed To The ‘Drive-by Likers’ Y’all Know The Ones: They Go To WP Reader and Clik ‘Like’–

Never Even Reading The Post They Just ‘Liked’

Young writer searching inspiration, with an old typewriter.

Personal case in point:

Few hours ago, I got thirty ‘Likes’ within the short span of three minutes. Now, I, as most of you, generally post stuff that takes, at-the-very least, sixty seconds to peruse, longer to read, longer still to write a relevant, germane, thought-out thoughtful comment.

Y’all see where I am going with this?


I Detest ‘Drive-By Likers. Thank My God (I Can Co-op God, even as a ‘Devout’ Atheist)) I Thank God, I Have Been ‘Bless’d With a State-of-the-Art Bullshit Detector

Who Are Usually Just tryin’ to Sell Some Snake Oil for Flattering A Newbie, Just Tryin’ To Get Started With Bloggin. I HATE Drive-By Likers Trying to Fleece The Nativity of The Younger Amongst Us. Gus

I am NOT In The Market For Snake Oil Or Magic Beans. Honesty Is All I Will Tolerate. And If You Doubt The efficacy of My BullShit Detector, well… Try Me

Honesty is Sometimes a Lonely Word

Cred… Guess. Y’all Think I am Gonna Do ALL the Work? Think Again


I Love Our Writer/Blogger Brother/Sister In The Hood, Hood.

Just Wanted To Get That Out There…

For Posterity.

Wonderful World of Worthy Writers!

Real, For Reals Writers

We are, each of us, all of us, complicated, worthy people, full of brightly brilliant ideas, passionate passions, boundless potentials and infinite possibilities.

We are “Writers,” which makes us just a little bit different, special, and weird.

(In a very good way)

We each have our own personal foibles, strengths, weaknesses, levels of humanity, quirks, degrees of sanity, degrees of insanity, levels of intelligence, variances of meanness, variances of kindness, oscillating magnitudes of mood, cascades of creativity, brilliance of brevities, vacillating verbosities, and on and on…

In short we are all individuals possessing something unique that only each unique one amongst us can share.

And THAT, My Dear “Special Writer-Friends” is what makes this vocation so Magical.

And so very fulfilling and so very rewarding.


Ninety-Nine Percent of my Writing is Autobiographical.

And I know from visiting the Blogs, that most of my Fellow Writers, at the very least, Write a good deal of same.

For me, I find it healthy and cathartic.

Your mileage may vary.

But remember Socrates’ renowned statement,

“The unexamined life is not worth living.”

Content Credit: “School of Life”


Some of us have our own personal agendas.

Some of us do not.

Yet, We, each and every one of us, is worthy: Agenda Full, or Agenda Empty.

Honestly, I am fresh out (of agendas) currently, but I am shopping for one to rent.


Upon ‘Sober’ Reflection…

(Yes! I have Quit for Good, The Drinking–Having Chosen Life Over Death Because I still have years and years and years worth of shit I want, need, to write and to share.)

Yes! Upon sober reflection, I realize I DO have an agenda after all: My ‘agenda’, modest as it may appear, is to spread a little joy and deliver a bit of enrichment into the people’s lives who honor me by investing some of that most valuable, finite commodity we ALL share:


I work very diligently not to waste even one single moment of yours, because there is no such thing as a ‘Money-Back-Time-Guarantee’.

“Love It, Or We’ll Refund All Your Time Spent. With Interest. No Questions Asked! Guaranteed!”

Sorry. Don’t work that way.

Some of us are Brilliant, Talented Writers.

Some us are just getting started and may need advice from time to time. Just ask; you will most likely get an inbox overflowing full.

“So, You Want To Be A Writer?”

Street Cred for Vid: Shea, Et al.


Some of us are polished, published, poets, prose-writers, playwright professionals, some of us are copywriters, some of us are even journalists, some of us are a combination of a few or of them all.

Some of us have genetic talent.

Some of us must work harder at it.

Most of us suffer Writer’s Block from time to time:

Content Credit: “Ivan Kander”


But the fact that we are all here, grinding out word after word,

Proves our worth and our respect for our craft.

And the Fact that you are reading these words right now proves you have respect for your fellow writers in Our Wonderful Writer’s Community

I think what my ‘message’ is trying (and most likely failing) to eloquently say… is that I love the writers in my fellow writer community.

We all have worth.

(Well except for that worthless schmuck who don’t like Lenny Bruce… and Y’all know I am even just kidding on that.)

“Thank You Mask Man”

Video Share Credit: ThankYouMaskedMan1


Not Really!

Never kid About Comedy; Comedy is Serious Business!

Never Joke About Lenny; Lenny is Serious Business!

And if Y’all Think I’m a Serious Person, and not joking, I am gonna purchase you a one-way ticket to ‘The Re-Education, Never-Take-Lance-Too-Seriously Gulag Facility’, recently re-modeled and up-graded–it has running water now.

And Gulag Goulash Every Saturday Night.

–Lance, Your Humble & Worthy Servant, Who Loves, and Respects, All of ‘Y’alls’.


Bonus ‘Added Value’

Shakespeare & Marlowe:

Credit: Miramax

Jesus H. Christ! This Post Is All-Fu*K’ed Up! Needs to Embrace The Warm Kiss of My ‘Edit Pen’–Never Happen. Not Any Time Soon–‘Lance-the-Buffoon/Baboon.

Who Will Save Your Soul?

Jewel, That’s Who

Riding back-seat around Texas as a wee Child, my eyes (and my young malleable mind) were often assaulted by Road-Signs, Bill-Boards et cetera.

One of the most prevalent is one which Proclaimed:

“Jesus Saves!”

Seeing such, I had often pondered…

“Saves? Save What?”

Green Stamps?

Late one afternoon on our way back to Winnsboro, I spied such a sign. Tapped my Maternal Grandmother on the shoulder (In the Front Shot-Gun Seat. I was in-the-back-seat as all good gran-children do)

I poked her in her shoulder and inquired, “Grandmother, does Jesus save Green Stamps?”

(Yes, I Was An Atheist, Even Way Back When)

She, Gran-Mama, Hard-Core-to-the-Core Southern Baptist, was not amused by my question.

She just turned her attention back to the road, With an annoyed ‘Humph’ escaping her mouth, and ignored me.

Graddaddy laughed a faint laugh though.

I Had Won.

See? I was an Atheist, Even Way Back Then.

HaHaHa & Ha!

Rider On The Jesus Storm


Related ’bout My Re’lat-shun-Ship With My Granddaddy:

Shoot at Me, You Sumbitch!

But, I’ll Always Have Paris

And Notra Dame

Bogie! Without Bacall. What a Shame!

Profanity Contained Within! Watch Yer Step! Watch Yer Ass! Be Aware! Maintain Situational Awareness At-All-Times.

(And Please Refrain From Smoking… Dope. Cowboy Killers Are Just Fine. Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em) “Why Did I Never “Make” A Daughter?”

Oh, And By-The-Way… Please Do NOT Axe Me Why This Post Is So Unorganized & Discombobulated.

You Will NOT Enjoy My Respond.


No Time? BULL-SHITE! I HAD The Time–

I Just Squandered It All Away.


Just One More of My life’s Long List Of Monumental Fuck-Ups!

“Wallowing in Self-Pity For Never ‘Making’ A Daughter.

Yes! A Recent Re-Run!

Please Ignore My Prose & Just Watch The Videos!”

Lance. Obnoxious Editorial Note: Why Does It Take Four Decades To Up-Load a Fifty Mega-Byte Clip? Sheeit!

I Had Better Internet in Iraq!

I called up my ‘Internet Survive Provider….’

Guess How That Went

“Hello Valued Customer; How may we Help YOU Today?”

“You can eat Shit and Die!–How’s That For My Pre-Amble?”

Our Conversation Went Down-Hill from There.

How I Would be, as a Daughter Daddy:

Don’t Bother Reading.

It is Just For The Record of My Self-Pity. “Every (Rare) Once In A While I See Something On TV That ‘Moves’ Me. This Commercial Moved Me–Gave Me Hope–Made Me Misty-Eyed. Almost Cried.” That’s a Lie. I did cry.

(Please Scroll Down A Mite–And, BTW, NO Mites Were Harmed During The Making of This Post–Just To Clarify That For ‘PETA Porpoises’)

Spanish Harlem, Phil Spector:

I have been re-watching “Mad Men”–Most are familiar with the show.

For those who have been living under a rock for the past two decades:

The series is all about Madison Avenue.

Advertising in The Sixties.


This ‘commercial’



It actually brought a tear to my eye

(See below about how sorry I feel for myself for not taking the time to have a daughter)

Credit: Vanguard


One More “Daughter-Related” Brilliantly done Commercial

“Roots and Wings”

Vid Cred: Entertainment Marketing (And Of Course, Miranda)

Miranda Leigh Lambert (born November 10, 1983) is an American country singer, songwriter, and guitarist. Born in Longview, Texas–

Of Fricken Course,



Longer Version Audio Only—Full Vid has been flushed down the Memory Hole. I Shoulda Saved It when I Had The Chance. Shit!

Artist:  Miranda Lambert


I Found A Presentable Clip–Ignore The Nerd–

Watch The Miranda Vid.

Thank You; Drive Thru




Vid Cred: I don’t Know, (I am too drunk to be bothered to look but thak you!

Whoever the fu*k, Hell you are!)


More of Rosanne!

“You know that life don’t hold no glamour anymore”

Let’s break this down, shall we?

It all hinges on the word ‘that’

And how you intrepret the usage of it

“You know ‘that life’ don’t hold no glamor anymore.”

Could mean potential sucicide


You know ‘that’ life, could mean “I am fucking tired of being a performing artist and I want a ‘real life’

What do Y’all think?

Which is it?

Could be both

This is the genius of the song

I think the “answer” lies in the last Line:

“Maybe I’ll just go away to stay”

Now that that mystery is solved I can move on

Hey Johnny!

Best “Thing” You Ever “Created!”

I am so Fuckin’ Jealous!

You Asshole!

You Lucky Asshole!

“Guess I Could Never Do Nothin’ Right!”

Orig Song Cred: Jerry Jeff Walker


An aside:

Damnit! I wish I had a daughter!

(Fuckin’ ‘DUH!)


The Commercial Copywriters were obviously inspired by this classic Ben E. King:

Spanish Harlem

And Yes It is Not Lost On Me That

“Rose” is Metaphor for a Woman

Just like “The Yellow Rose of Texas”

I have a little left of my brain


Cred for Vid: John1948OneD


I should have worked in advertising.

Pretty sure I would have been good / great at it.

I understand how it ‘works’


P. T. Barnum:

“There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute”:

Content Creator Cred: Professor Buzzkill


Lance in an alternate life/universe:


Bonus Material For Reference:

Yellow Rose of Texas

(Originally Written Circa 1850)

(Which was actually about a very beautiful half-black slave girl–put that in yer pipe)

Smoke it!

Vid Cred: Lane Brody

Artists: Johnny Lee & Lane Brody


Someday, One Day,

I Will Git Over My Patriotism.



That Day Will NEVER Come!

“Gawd I Feel Like Hell Tonight. Tears of Rage, I Cannot Fight. Lie to Me; Make Me Believe.” WARNING! Self-Pity-Party Ahead (On Steroids.)

“Danger Will Robinson! Danger!”

Tread Softly and Watch Yer Ass!


“I Miss her So Much. Believe or Don’t:

All My Words Come Main-Lined– Straight Out of My Heart–No Varmint Varnish Ever Applied Here.

All Truth.

I Caint Write Fiction–

No Talent for it.


Pity Party Anyone?

Free Booze & Snooze!

Snooze on the Nasty Couch Azzhole!

Sheryl! I Am In Perpetual Love With You!

Especially When I Discover Me Throwin’ Punches In The Air

I Fucked Up!


Just Some Last Thoughts & One


Important ‘Breaking News’ Re: Shonnie’s ‘Make-Over'”

Let’s Get This Out of the Way First:


Do NOT Read Unless You are Already Familiar With The Story from Reading the Original Series.

Skip Ahead to Here:

Author’s Note:

Some of Y’all Faithful Readers… (That is Not Sarcasm. I sincerely appreciate all Y’all who read me and have ‘Read’ me over the years, and tears, and beers)

some of Y’all have probably noticed I have been re-visiting old work and endeavoring to ‘re-work’ same.

I am doing this because a few of the old posts still have value and meaning for me and hopefully for you as well.

Most do not, but there are a handful that do.

“Shonnie”, being one of them.

“Are you going ‘somewhere’ with this Lance?”

Yes. I just wish to inform Y’all that my ‘Current Mission’ is to re-write the entire Shonnie Series. Chapter One is Done. Now only Thirteen to go!”

Someone once told me, “Lance, your ‘Shonnie’ is probably the only ‘real’ writing you have ever done.

Most of your other shit is just that: ‘Shit.’ Granted, some of it is entertaining shit, but ‘shit’ it remains.

‘Shonnie’ is the only one that will ever have even a snowflake’s chance in Hell of getting published. Provided you allow a good editor to slice and dice it.”

“Uh… Nice ‘talkin’ to ya. Thanks.”


I killed this Series a few years ago.

Pretty Certain Alcohol was involved.

Anyway, I brought it back, (With the help of Word Press—Thank you WP) if for nothing else, my own edification.

And every word I wrote, everything I recounted, actually happened as written.

(And of course, it was resurrected because I love Sheryl Crow. And of course, as a vain writer, But I just cannot cotton to killing my own words, once dragged out of my mind and put down. Hahahaha! Writers! Y’all know what I mean.)

 Please Bare er, ‘bear’…  with me on this one Y’all.

Time always makes things (memories) better. This is how I cope. As for me and Shonnie, memories are multiplied, ‘super-sized’, if you will.

The words I wrote of our relationship are all too true. I do hope she never reads those words, as neither she nor I are strong enough to re-live those heady days. This is how life is and I suppose how it should be.

(Not religious redemption: human redemption) I do not apologize for my youthful indiscretions. They belong to me alone and I will carry them alone. 

If anyone has it in their head after reading my story of Lance and Shonnie, that I did not truly love her, that I allowed her to set me free for my own self-preservation, that I did not want to fight for her, then you may want to go back and read between the lines a bit.

And with that ‘mini-rant’ spotlight shined into my soul, I leave you with this idealized and fantasized version of what Shonnie meant to me.

(Ms Shonnie’s part played and well-acted by Sheryl Crow.) Yet as good as Sheryl is, she could never be as good to, nor for me, as was Shonnie.


(But, I’d grant her an audition, none-the-less)

It shames me now to admit this but I was, back then, not strong enough to be Shonnie’s man.

Would that I could be granted a second chance

And, even now, today, I probably still am not.

But, However, Comma,,, I Have ALWAYS Made The Rules Up As I Go…

Better That Way…


If you are new here and confused, here is the beginning of this little saga: 

Shonnie, The Biker’s Wife

 Go there with my Blessing

And my Sympathy

Cheers! Y’all!

Below You Will Find Most Of The Original Posts. Once / If You Arrive At Thirteen There Are Links To The Final Few Chapters. Please keep in mind however, that each and every one of them is in the process of being rewritten: first to last. This will probably take at least two or three weeks.

UPDATE: The Shonnie Reconstruction Project is Completed.

Please read the new versions.

They are all still truth. Truth expanded. More detail, yada yada yada… and yada

I deleted the links to the original versions.

The links seem to have been confusing.

The new ones are all easily accessible.

Bonus On Us–The Management:

I Shall Believe:

Not So ‘Fun Fact: I Once Had A Pen-Pal, GF… I Loved Her Much, But, Me, Being Me,

I somehow Managed To Mangle and Destroy Our Relationship–

Go Figger!

I Sent Her This Song.

(Found Below)

After She Had Dumped Me & Cast Me To The Curb

She Was NOT Amused.

As I Kinda Recall, Her Moniker was ‘Bella-Bama’ or ‘Bama-Bella–

I Do Not Recall.

And, of Course, she was ‘Southern’,

I ONLY Fall In-Love With Southern-Women


I Still Believe in Love–

What Other Choice Do I Have?–

Me Being A Hopeless Romantic an’ All…


Far, Far, Much Better, Superior Version Below

“I’ll NEVER Be Everything You Want Me To Be.”

Credit: Sheryl Crow “No Shit, Lance? Really?”