Life Lesson Learned: Don’t Go Around Kicking Sinai Spiders (Uh, This One Ain’t No Re-Run. It be brand-spankin’ New)

Late one night after closing down our little bar at SFM, I began my ‘swaggering stagger’ back to my hooch.

Let’s say I was slightly inebriated.

No, let’s say I was drunk.

No, let’s say I was shit-faced.

In Sinai, when I was there, lived a lot of species of ‘interesting’ creatures. To name just a few:

Camels

Bedouins

UNEF Soldiers

Big Ass Scorpions

Big Ass Ants

Big Ass Flies

Big Ass Lizards

One (only one–that was all our allotment allowed) Ex-Dallas Cowboy’s Cheerleader–long story–I’ll get back to that one.

Texans, lots of

and…

Big Ass Spiders

“Sun Spiders”

(What we called them—my research—and more recent experiences, have informed me that these are actually called ‘Camel Spiders’) Made infamous by a photo-shopped photo of two of them held by a U.S. Marine in Iraq, making them look as large as a house cat.  I am getting off-track…

But Sun Spiders are in fact, quite large.

And fearless.

Just as fearless as a drunk twenty-one year old Texan.

As I was navigating to my hooch I came upon an unusually large sun spider strolling across the compound minding his own business. Imagine a scaled down version of one of those machine-monsters from the “War – of — The – Worlds” movie. How he looked to me.

What did our hero do?

Walked up and kicked him with his boot.

He tumbled over twice and tried to run away.

Oh hell no!

I kicked him again.

He tumbled over again, found his eight-feet footing and tried again to flee.

Oh HELL NO!

I kicked him a third time.

I was giggling and having a great time

But I guess by then he’d had enough.

He regained his bearings again, but this time he must have said to himself,

“Fuck this asshole!”

He started chasing ME!

I ran fast as I could, periodically looking over my shoulder, to my hooch, fumbled around with my hooch-door key, panicking. Got the door open, burst through, slammed it behind me and gasping and sweating fell down on my rack. My hooch-mates (both of them) asked me if the war had started up again.

All I could say was,

“Just don’t open that fuckin’ door.”

Sexy Goddess Elizabeth: My Last Wife, Chapter Three: Lance Thinking With The Wrong Head (But Favorite Mistake)

C’est Moi!

When last we left

Our Hero,

He was all over the telephone, sorting out (and paying for) The Extended Stay In The ‘City of Light’ with his new Love.

****

As soon as I got everything sorted, settled and paid for, Ela telephoned her two kids: A daughter and a son—Bout 9 and 12 respectively.

It was kind of a ‘conference call’ from what I could glean, but only hearing Ela’s words, and watching her begin to get all misty-eyed and then break down in tears, I could only surmise:

This could, in no way, shape, matter, nor form bode well…

She hung up and through her crying eyes, announced,

“I have to go home. Now.”

“Whaaaat?”

“My children are distraught. They expected me home tomorrow, not in four days.”

“You wanna see ‘distraught?’ Look at me!”

Now, mind you, I really did not give a shit about the six grand it had just cost me to sort out the extended stay at our hotel (Since I no longer had a reservation and they claimed to be booked solid they broke it off in my ass—ditto Air France—at least six grand all in, but who’s counting at this point?

I could always go back to ‘The Sandbox’ and make Six-Grand in two Weeks, but that wasn’t really the point, was it?

I wanted MORE TIME with HER!

We spent that final night under a bridge across from Notre Dame, drinking wine and holding hands.

First thing next morning, I grabbed a cab and took her to the airport.

As we were waiting in-line to get her boarding pass I made an incredibly stupid decision:

“I am flying with you—to Springfield,” I blurted out.

(Yet more money down that drain)

“You sure?” She asked.

“Oui. Certainement.”

Sorted out my new plane ride logistics (And ass-raped once again by Air France)

We got our boarding passes, our carry-ons and boarded the plane.

What the Fuck had I just done?

I was certain I would pay for this folly, and probably much sooner than later.

Thirty minutes passed and we were Wheels-Up and non-stop to New-Fucking-Jersey (To catch our connection to Springfield)

(I like to think myself an intelligent, worldly man, but this. THIS was a bone-headed, stupid move)

Trust me, Gentle Readers, it gets worse.

To Be Continued…

Added Value To Accentuate My Point:

(This song will become more relevant in upcoming chapters)

And try to guess who stopped giving a shit first.

You have only two options–these are easy odds

Not like betting The Ponies, or Roulette. Or A Crap Shoot.

Go ahead: Put your Money On The Table–Take A Shot.

I love You Sheryl–Always Have–Always shall.

(Even if you do resemble some Crack Whores I have called ‘Friend.’)

Hey! Wanna Try A Different ‘Lance’?

That Armstrong One Was Lame as Fuk–Just Sayin’.

But if he/she/it makes you happy…

Rock on Girl!

I have a ‘real-life’ Cheryl (Yeah, with a ‘C’) Cheryl story, but if I tell it, she will track me down and kill the fuck outta me. So I won’t tell it unless I get drunk out of my mind.

Which could happen at any time…..

Liquid courage.

Yeah.

I know all about that.

Too much in fact.

And I have the scars to prove it.

Sexy Goddess Elizabeth: My Last Wife, Chapter Two: In France We Kissed On Main Street

Cred for Vid: MysticPieces

(Yeah, I know this is a really old photo, but my thought process goes like this: If Joni ever sees this it may piss her off just enuff to come see me and kick my ass) And I would cherish the ass-kicking. For the rest of my life.

I really have not much to lose at this point.

In France we kissed on Main Street

Video Credit: MysticPieces (oops, I did it again)

********

I was Free To Follow My Desire In Paris

We spent an inordinate amount of time in our lovely, comfy little love shack of a hotel room.

I had fetched along some of my most – favorite movies to share with Ela—Yes, at this point, she had instructed me to call her “Ela” because that was the moniker she went by, but reserved for her ‘closest friends.”—I figured ‘Lovers’—but whatever. I had made it to “Ela Status.” Hoped this boded well for our relationship.

Got one of the Hotel Staff to hook us up with a DVD Player so we could watch the movies I had brought to the soiree:

‘Cabaret’, ‘Hamlet,’ ‘Macbeth.’ Midnight Cowboy,’ ‘Henry V’–Just some ‘Light-Hearted viewing! HAHAHAH!

She loved ‘Henry V’ and ‘Cabaret.’

‘Macbeth’ and ‘Hamlet’ not as much.

We wasted (well, not wasted to me) a lot of time holed up in our little room watching these movies, drinking vin rouge, and making love. I was in Heaven. I had already seen much of The Paris I was interested in seeing (This was not my First ‘Paris Rodeo’—Had been to Paris several times already. As had she.

So we just drank, made love, watched movies, and fell deep IN-LOVE (for the most part)

We did go out, usually in the late evenings to stroll down the Champs-Élysées and hang out at the Café George V.

We were having a wonderful Paris Experience.

But, it was rapidly coming to an end.

She had to return to her ‘Main-Mundane’ in Springfield and I had to return to ‘Le Sandbox’ that was Iraq. We kinda grew morose.

Then I had one of those ‘epiphany things.’

“Ela,” I broached. “Why cannot we just extend our stay here a few more days? I can change our plane tickets, sort things out with the hotel. My job won’t fire me. I am too good at it, as I am sure you are at yours. Let’s stay a few more days.”

She blinked at me through teary eyes, embraced me, kissed me and said, “Oh Yes! Oh Hell Yes!”

Then I got on the telephone to sort out all the logistics and the dice were cast.

It turned out to be a not-so-very-good crap-shoot, but it took some time for that realization to make manifest.

To be continued…

Chapter One Here

Gainful Employment, Part Duh

 

Preface:

Lance (LIFE) is An Angry Man. An Angry White Man.

Now. That (above) is just for fun

What means this?

Nothing.

Just thought I’d say it.

Why?

“Dunno.”

Read On.

(Oh! And One Last THING: If you do not follow the links, well, do not come back to me crying: “Lance! I don’t get it!”–Please don’t force me to be an asshole–I really hate that.)

Oops! Working for Not-a-Livin’

I’ve been around the world (twice). Seen two white whales fuck. Seen the sun come up over many exotic venues. Been drunk at sunup looking at Kilimanjaro. Been sober at sunset watching Jews at the Wailing Wall, mostly wailing, them Jew (sic). Seen monkeys steal golf balls off the course at Subic Bay Naval Base. (A “gimme-drop” or a ‘mulligan’ in the local rule book) Heard the call-to-prayer while on my early a.m. runs in many Arab lands. Seen incomprehensible acts of bravery and also of coward-ness. Seen inspiring acts of kindness. Seen unbelievable acts of selfishness and cruelty. Seen some things that oh so briefly, made me want to believe in (a) God (those passed—quickly—trust me on this one folks).

Seen men die.

And seen men live.

Have made countless great friends. Friended them. Been friended. Been De-Friended.  Cannot say I can even know where any one of them are today, or if they are even still alive. Such has been my way in life… Suppose a selfish life (my take). Most who really know me would never say that. I have been called ‘Generous to a fault.’ I have also been called ‘conceited’ ‘arrogant’ ‘self-important’, ‘pompous’, ‘asshole’ et cetera, but one thing I have never been called is ‘cheap.’

I am proud of that.

In brief: “I have heard the chimes at midnight” with many good friends, however much I always seemed to cast them away, sorely by neglect. Friendship, I now know, requires tending, not unlike an aquarium or a garden. Next life… maybe.

I need not go on. Hell, most of us who attain some bit of longevity can attest to these experiences, or at least, reasonable facsimiles. Nothing unique about me here, but I have traveled a bit more than most and generally, I have taken some good mental notes.

Which kind of brings me to my point:

Jobs I Have Had: Weird Version (not in any particularly chronological order)

Walmart: I took a job at Walmart long after I had quit my regular job of almost ten years. My money had run out and I was living (by the good graces of my landlady—a friend–erstwhile lover) rent-free in Commerce, Amerika. Until she ran outta patience with me…

My intent was to attain gainful employment in Iraq, so I had quit my regular job, just SOOO certain, given my previous ‘Overseas War-Zone Experience’ that I would be beating the Head-Hunter’s offers away with a very large stick. Alas. No one seemed interested in hiring me to go to Iraq and risk my neck, (Even though I had made it abundantly clear in my cover letters that, ‘Beheading’ to me, is just a ‘scare word.’ No dice. No sale. No Job.

Strangest Aspect of working at Walmart:

Pajama Day. Yes Friends: on Pajama Day (Fridays as I do recall) a Walmart Associate could, if so desirous, wear pj’s work. Many did.

I did not.

UPS: I currently work (seasonal) for UPS. As far as I know, there are no pajama days, but there seem to be ‘incoherent days.’ I have been showing up for now two weeks and I am as clueless today as I was on day one. If I were kind, I’d call it ‘organized chaos.’ Most of you who read me know I am not really one to spout euphemisms. No. Just ‘chaos’ will do for now. And gee! I really do hope all y’all get your parcels on-time. I truly do. Merry Christmas

SFM (Sinai Field Mission)

Completely run by the US Department of State back in the Seventies…

Wow! I have written of the insanity that went on there. Hell! There is even a documentary film on it (completely bogus, but here is the link, if you do not believe me:

http://www.zipporah.com/films/30

Hay Hauling:

Yep. A more insane occupation cannot be imagined (in The Seventies) Drunks mostly all of us hay-haulers. Peanut comes immediately to mind

 Navy SEALs: What can I say?

Worm Ranch: Worm Counter.

Yeah, I used to make a living… counting red-worms: Seventy-five cents a box. Good money. Dodge the alcoholic! (For that, I did not get paid extra—it was before OSHA doan cha know…?

Enuff!

More later.

Maybe

And don’t you know?

I am the reason God Made OK.

(Not really)

But…

I have a sense of the ludicrous.

THERE IS SOME RHYME AND REASON (YES ALL CAPS) THAT I LOVE KRIS:

HITS TOO CLOSE TO HOME)

DON’T IT?

Let The Buyer Beware

Daily Lenny

Yeah, I have pissed in a lot of sinks.

 Truly, I have.

Below: Me and Hala. Amman, Jordan

gomer-1-and-gomette-2

“I know this goddamn life too well.”

-Janis

They Say It’s Your Birthday (and please read/watch this one) It may be my swan

Happy Fucking B’Day to me. Blow out the candle and hand me my scotch. I was born two months weeks, three or four, before Sputnik, ’57.

This makes me special. Real fucking special. I should have slapped my mama and moved to Moscow. Below taken from an email. I do hope I deacted, redacted, crossed out… Her name. If not. I gots beeeg trouble. Here goes:

“Oh fucking K. Four weeks and change B4 Spuds (Spittering Nic) MacKenzie….Math ain’t my thing. Never bin my thang. Shit! I was two weeks old. Gimme a fucking break.
On Fri, Sep 10, 2021 at 11:15 AM Lance Marcom <lancemarcom781@gmail.com> wrote:
Do NOT neglect the Linda at the end.On Fri, Sep 10, 2021 at 11:13 AM Lance Marcom <lancemarcom781@gmail.com> wrote:
“They say it’s Lance Marcom’s B’day. Les go burn down his house.”

“He ain’t got no house.”

“OK, let’s just burn him.”

“He is scary.”

“Doan wanna get that close.”

“Good pint. We can burn something else.”

Tomorrow I embrace my Sixty-Third Year.

So what?

I find me asking me of late:

“So… Lance, what have you done?

Vid Credit:

johnlennon

And ‘somewhat’ related: And…Talia Shire Will never, ever look so good. 

Again.

(That Beret! That Beret! Cabaret!) 

And of course, not without saying…

Joel Grey.

And Liza…

And Michael York.

And…

And… whatever happened to Jimmy Buffett’s hair??? (I did read his book, “a pirate looks at forty” fifty, sixty??. did not glean anything from it ‘cept that he loves ‘boat-planes’– shit! I could have ‘wrote’ a better book. Jes sayin’…)

My tweet (if I ever tweet) to Jimmy:

Dude, stick to music. That is what you do best. Leave the prose to those who have some prose… to share. And no! I ain’t talking ’bout me, but in general speakin’…)

(See way below for the JB bits)

(and, yes:  Navy SEALs)

Picks up that conversation:

“Not too much,” I must confess.

“But surely you have touched some lives?”

“Yeah, but mostly in a bad way. I did my best in war zones. I was ‘The antithesis’ of the ‘Bad American.’ Other than that, nope.”

“Perhaps you are being too hard on yourself?”

“You really don’t know me, do you?”

“Well… no. Not exactly. This is just a job to me. Go on.”

“I’d rather not, but hey! Thanks for stopping by.”

“I suppose my ‘work’ here is done. Then?”

“Yeah. You may be excused.”

“Thanks, because I am late for my appointment with J-Law.”

Running In Soft Sand: Intro

“Happy Trails.”

“But you said one thing; got my attention: You said ‘torched’.

“Naw! I said ‘scorched’ There is some difference.”

Vid credit:HistoryRepeats01

And I leave Y’all with this. It fits:

Or, as Mammy (Hattie McDaniel) said, via ‘Gone With The Wind’:

“It just ain’t fittin'”

(She ‘won’ an Oscar for that. Ya surely know) And in her acceptance speech, she said, and I quote: “I sincerely hope I shall always be a credit to my race.” Can you believe she actually felt compelled to say those words? Well, it was 1940… I suppose. 

Lance loves you Mammy (Hattie)

And look up the word ‘class’ in any dictionary. There you will find a photo of Katherine Hepburn.

Oops! I meant Bette Davis (shit! I cannot tell from the vid which one, Kate or Bette–HBO!–help a brother out here. Which one?) Personally, I am gonna go with Kate.   After further review, I am going with Bette.

“Just hold on and suck in.”

Vid Credit:

obxncpirate

 Yeah! I always pick the ‘raw’ video. Jus’ me, I suppose.

It was, in fact, my birthday.

Thanks for riding along.

For, there will be Nothing… Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Tomorrow!

Nothing tomorrow.

Cheers. Beers. Jears. Tears.

L

Namaste Bit:

And if you find a plethora of parenthesis here…They are for my friend, SS and solely for her own edification.

If you care to dare, Here is her link:

But Be Brave

http://theshitshowthatismylife.com/about/

(I was)

Yet…she scares me…

And last and certainly not least….

“We’re gonna let you go.”

I guess “all of the above” rightly sums up my life.

Happy Birthday to me.

Bonus in Honor of 2021 Version of Me:

Streeeeeet Cred: skychurchify

Life Lesson Learned: Don’t Go Around Kicking Sinai Spiders (Uh, This One Ain’t No Re-Run. It be brand-spankin’ New)

Late one night after closing down our little bar at SFM, I began my ‘swaggering stagger’ back to my hooch.

Let’s say I was slightly inebriated.

No, let’s say I was drunk.

No, let’s say I was shit-faced.

In Sinai, when I was there, lived a lot of species of ‘interesting’ creatures. To name just a few:

Camels

Bedouins

UNEF Soldiers

Big Ass Scorpions

Big Ass Ants

Big Ass Flies

Big Ass Lizards

One (only one–that was all our allotment allowed) Ex-Dallas Cowboy’s Cheerleader–long story–I’ll get back to that one.

Texans, lots of

and…

Big Ass Spiders

“Sun Spiders”

(What we called them—my research—and more recent experiences, have informed me that these are actually called ‘Camel Spiders’) Made infamous by a photo-shopped photo of two of them held by a U.S. Marine in Iraq, making them look as large as a house cat.  I am getting off-track…

But Sun Spiders are in fact, quite large.

And fearless.

Just as fearless as a drunk twenty-one year old Texan.

As I was navigating to my hooch I came upon an unusually large sun spider strolling across the compound minding his own business. Imagine a scaled down version of one of those machine-monsters from the “War – of — The – Worlds” movie. How he looked to me.

What did our hero do?

Walked up and kicked him with his boot.

He tumbled over twice and tried to run away.

Oh hell no!

I kicked him again.

He tumbled over again, found his eight-feet footing and tried again to flee.

Oh HELL NO!

I kicked him a third time.

I was giggling and having a great time

But I guess by then he’d had enough.

He regained his bearings again, but this time he must have said to himself,

“Fuck this asshole!”

He started chasing ME!

I ran fast as I could, periodically looking over my shoulder, to my hooch, fumbled around with my hooch-door key, panicking. Got the door open, burst through, slammed it behind me and gasping and sweating fell down on my rack. My hooch-mates (both of them) asked me if the war had started up again.

All I could say was,

“Just don’t open that fuckin’ door.”