Faith

Beautiful Lady
Such Class!

So Much Class!

One of These Days,

I Hope I Can Say

“I Left In Time.”

Religion.

Specifically: Southern Religion

More specifically: Texan Religion.

I am talking Methodists, Baptists, Church of Chist(ers)—the Entire Gamut of The Faithful.

I love all of Y’all.

No secret: “Lance is an Atheist.”

(This is well-documented.)

However, I do love AND RESPECT

All Folks of Faith.

I just do not roll that way.

Cannot.

But I love the music.

And I love the morality

(I have that too— ‘morality’—I do not need Religion to have that)

I love the culture of Faith.

I never mean to demean anyone of Faith.

My fervent wish is to never offend.

I have too much respect for Folks of Faith.

Too much respect For Fellow Texans,

most of whom are Religious.

(I was going somewhere with this post)

Probably to Hell.

******

Post Script:

I have read ‘The Iliad’

And ‘The Odyssey’

And All The Norsemen—Thor–in particular.

I have read ‘Beowulf’

And The ‘King James Bible.’

All Great Mythology.

All Magnificent Literature.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I know what I’m talking about.

(“One of these days I’ll look back and I’ll say I left in time.”)

Someone Recently ‘Discovered’ ‘Liked’ This—So Natch! What Does Ass-Hole Lance Do? Re-Fresh Re-Writes & Re-Spams! oF Corse! Yeah! Of Course!–

Matter Of Natural Progression–

Thank You, Darwin.

****

“And Take Yer Sweet Time WP”

(Why Do It Take You Six Days To Up-Load My Shit?)

While You Wait For Me To Lose My Train…

Of Thought”

“Just Watch The Movie”

My “Spelling” Always Lacks Something

Some Understanding

To Be Aspired…

Or Desired

I Am Forever

aLWAYS

tHE uNDER-aCHIEVER–

ME!

C’est Moi!

Hahahahahaha!

An Ass-Hole Is Always An Ass-Hole!

Of Course

Of Course!

Just Like A Horse!

Cred Fer Share: Steven No-Body

J/K!

Here is his LanceLot Link Link:

https://www.youtube.com/user/sduffrin

(Yeah! Re-Dumb-Dant!)

Git OVER IT!

“The Reports Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated.” –Mark Twain (And Now Shamelessly Stolen By Lance Marcom)

Unknown Brain – Dead (ft. KAZHI)

Laughing My Fu^king Ass Off!

This is a True, Recent Story: Not Something From ‘The Archives.’

No Names Have Been Changed To Protect Innocents

(Because I Don’t Know Any)

*****

It was recently brought to my attention that there is a rumor making the circuit in My Home Town of Honey Grove:

“Lance Marcom Was Found to be Dead.”

(Not sure where or why or how they found me, but those would just be superfluous details—no need for them—not in a small Texas Town)  

And ‘THOSE‘ would (most likely) just be Tales Told By Idiots, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing

–Sorry Will

Of course this made me laugh hysterically—and also made my day—no such thing as ‘bad press’ for a wanna-be fledgling writer.

So, ‘Thank-You-Very-Mucho-Much’ to whoever started this story.

While I was still laughing my ass off on the phone with my very good old friend who had brought this News to me, a brilliant idea began to gestate in my mind:

“Hey Johnny! Let’s run with this. You tell everyone that you have confirmed the veracity of this report. Then you set up a GoFundMe page for the Funeral Expenses—Should Fly—My Poverty is Well-Documented.

We’ll split the ‘Charitable’ Proceeds 50/50.”

(I have always had a bit of larceny in my bones and in my genes and in my heart)

“I’m on it.” said Johnny, “But do you honestly think anyone gives a shit about “Lance Marcom?”

“Print Up some Flyers; scatter them around in Ladonia–the ‘Marcom Name’ still carries a bit of weight there, Because of My Grandfather.

You know of him. He was the Town Doctor who would accept chickens, or pigs, or heifers, in lieu of money. He was loved and belov’d.”

I detected a ‘smirk’ (Remotely–on my Smart-Phone) crawling all-over-the-face of my Friend at the mention of ‘Heifers.’

“Johnny, they were ‘four-legg’d heifers–that’s all.’ My Grandfather Marcom was a Fucking Methodist!

And Allow me to reiterate.

I’ve been riding fare-free and care-free on his ‘Fame-Train’ all my life. “

Plan Incubated and Hatched—Now for the execution of same—no Pun

*******

As an aside, if the Police Do Get Involved, The Numero-Uno Prime Suspect Will Be Guess Who?

Yep

*******

“I’m not dead.  I feel fine. Think I’ll go for a walk…”

Causally Related:

This is a No-Shitter–A True “Sea-Story” It Actully Happened. For Shit-Sure—Reals–Just as I Wrote it. “Minnow Madness”

Bob Away My Blues by The Marshall Tucker Band


Cred for Vid: papasmeghead

****

Trace Adkins – Mind On Fishin’

****

One time during an “outing” to my Marcom 40 acres and a mule, plot of land (the one with the three ponds–two smallish, one largish), I was with Peanut, Gene, Preston, Okry, and Sherri Taylor (not sure how she came to tag along with us, but there she was, among us—providing eye candy. For she was so stunningly beautiful)

We were fishing in the ‘Big Pond.’

Guess what?

The fish weren’t biting.

We grew bored.

Peanut dropped a minnow into a bottle of Coors, handed it to me and said,

“Drink this down.”

And of course I did, minnow and all.

Then it got to be a game.

One by one, we all drank a minnow.

Sherri was the last, but what a trooper.

She drank a minnow too.

We kept drinking minnows.

Until we ran out of bait for our fishing excursion.

So we just left.

No point in fishing anymore, since we had consumed all the bait.

We drove headlong toward HG

To be Continued…

Someone Recently ‘Discovered’ This—So Natch! What Does Lance Do? Re-Spams It!

Where is My Mind? Oh! there You Are.

Where You Been All-My-Life?

Hahaha!

“The Reports Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated.” –Mark Twain

(And Now Shamelessly Stolen By Lance Marcom)

***

My HERO!

Unknown Brain – Dead (ft. KAZHI)

Laughing My Fu*king Ass Off!

This is a True, Recent Story:

Not Something From ‘The Archives.’

No Names Have Been Changed To Protect Innocents

Because I Don’t Know Any Innocents

*****

It was recently brought to my attention that there is a rumor making the circuit in My Home Town of Honey Grove:

“Lance Marcom was Found Dead.”

(Not sure where or why or how they found me, but those would just be superfluous details—no need for them—not in a small Texas Town)  

And ‘THOSE‘ would (most likely) just be Tales Told By Idiots, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing

–Sorry Will

Of course this made me laugh hysterically—and also made my day—no such thing as ‘bad press’ for a wanna-be fledgling writer.

So, ‘Thank-You-Very-Mucho-Much’ to whoever started this story.

While I was still laughing my ass off on the phone with my very good old friend who had brought this News to me, a brilliant idea began to gestate in my mind:

“Hey Johnny! Let’s run with this. You tell everyone that you have confirmed the veracity of this report. Then you set up a GoFundMe page for the Funeral Expenses—Should Fly—My Poverty is Well-Documented.

We’ll split the ‘Charitable’ Proceeds 50/50.”

(I have always had a bit of larceny in my bones and in my genes and in my heart)

“I’m on it.” said Johnny, “But do you honestly think anyone gives a shit about “Lance Marcom?”

“Print Up some Flyers; scatter them around in Ladonia–the ‘Marcom Name’ still carries a bit of weight there, Because of My Grandfather.

You know of him. He was the Town Doctor who would accept chickens, or pigs, or heifers, in lieu of money. He was loved and belov’d.”

I detected a ‘smirk’ (Remotely–on my Smart-Phone) crawling all-over-the-face of my Friend at the mention of ‘Heifers.’

“Johnny, they were ‘four-legg’d heifers–that’s all.’ My Grandfather Marcom was a Fucking Methodist!

And Allow me to reiterate.

I’ve been riding fare-free and care-free on his ‘Fame-Train’ all my life. “

Plan Incubated and Hatched—Now for the execution of same—no Pun

*******

As an aside, if the Police Do Get Involved, The Numero-Uno Prime Suspect Will Be Guess Who?

Yep

*******

“I’m not dead.  I feel fine. Think I’ll go for a walk…”

Causally Related:

I Am Doll Parts, Or… “How I Came to Live in The Shit Hole Garage Apartment Which was not Really a Garage Apartment, but only a Shit-Hole Underneath a Garage Apartment.”

“I Fake it so real I am beyond Fake.”

“I Fake it so real I am beyond Fake.”

Redundant?

Yes, I Know

 

Memory fails, but I have pieced together something approaching honest fact. I lost my posh digs at Ponderosa Apartments, and was forced to down-size.

Madelyn My Sister (step-sister)

was living large in the ‘Proper Garage Apartment’ and was ‘in good’ with the Landlord. She informed me he had this ‘wonderful little apartment’ for rent, which was ‘just perfect’ for me. Read CHEAP.

I checked it out, paid my fifty bucks and moved in. The moving in took all of two minutes, for I had not much to move.

Working for Ruth at her Liquor store in Ladonia and making a solid three dollars fifty cents an hour (plus ‘benefits), it was indeed, ‘perfect’ for me.

Now mind you, I never complained about living in such a place. After all, it did suit me and no one would have cared anyhow if it didn’t. It had some kind of ‘certain charm (just like this place) to be sure.

How many folks could invite a guest into their home and lead them past the shitter before arriving into the living room/bedroom/kitchen/study proper? As far as I knew, I had the only such place in all of Commerce. It was special.

And truth be told, I did some ‘entertaining’ there a couple of times. The only person who I would invite over was my girlfriend. She never judged me. She was always happy to be with me, no matter the venue. (Yes, that sounds conceited, but there it is Gentle Reader—c’est vrai, or quel dommage, or… choose your own français).

Continue reading

William Henry–Tale Of A Moron–This Time, Not Me. (If I Only Had A Brain–I’d Take It Out & Play Texas Football With It)

Football Heroes come in all shapes and sizes.

(And IQ’s)

TEXAS FOREVER!

PLEASE WATCH THE VIDEO

Of COURSE I read the book.

Thrice.

 

 

 

 

Back in 1974 I found myself at Warrior Stadium, Watching the HG Warriors kick the ever’ loving shit outta those Fannindale (dale?, del?)  Ladonia! I was born in that town, ’57! Guess I can call their football team what-ever-the-fuck I want…  Falcons.

I should have been on the field, but I had opted out my senior year, because I was tired of the whole “Friday Night Lights” shit.

And I was too busy.

Seated on opposite sides of me were Joe Whitley (Who was a math teacher and a rancher and father of my girlfriend, and also my employer) and William Henry—Local Big Boy and World – Famous Drunk.

Local lore and legend has it that William Henry once killed an entire gallon of Mogen-David wine without taking a single breath. And was able to walk away under his own power.

We were seated near the top of the stadium, nearly to the “Press Box.”

William Henry looked behind and spied something that interested him.

Behind the stands was the ‘Practice Field’ of the Famed Honey Grove Warriors.

There was a ‘Blaster Machine’ parked there.

Joe and I watched William Henry navigate down the stands and make his way toward same.

We watched with great curiosity as William Henry studied this machine.

He backed up ‘bout fifty foot and charged head-long into it.

Boom!

It slid back ‘bout ten feet.

He shook his head.

Went back another fifty foot.

Charged again.

Hit it full force.

Boom!

Slid back another ten foot.

William Henry in earnest now hit it with all his might (and his head)

Boom!

Still did not get through.

(Blaster Machines are a one – way street)

Joe and I watched him navigate his way back up to our seat.

He sat down, and with blood running into his eyes, said,

“Ya know, you gotta be one tough sumbitch to play football!”

True Story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_3yfyhmNc8