Continuation Of My Infatuation With ‘Info-Babes’–Is This Love Erin? Yep. From Where I Sit It Certainly Is (I Tried–To Make This A Good Post–Obviously I Failed In My Endeavor)

Janis Joplin – Try

(just a little bit harder)

****

I’m Really Really REALLY infatuated with Erin Burnette.

I don’t even know why.

Maybe because she is smart. And so well-educated. This draws me. Like a moth to a flame. I LOVE smart women. Cannot resist them.

She absolutely is very intelligent–there is no debate on this fact.

Maybe because she is beautiful

She certainly is–again, no debate on this one.

Maybe because she intrigues me

She surely does

Maybe all of the above.

Most likely.

I love her–Everything About Her

OK, I lied a little bit: I never mute her.

See photo of my “Notes.”

I don’t EVER NOT  listen to her.

I do NOT agree with her opinions,

but I respect them.

And I love her voice.

She adds value to my life.

And I appreciate that.

****

I just drop this in because I love it and it is upbeat.

Kinda like Erin, It makes Me Happy to Experience.

In My Imaginary Mind.

Apples Peaches Pumpkin Pie –

Jay & The Techniques

Cred For Share: BrushCountryJamboree

The Abusive Muse: Wake-Up Call.

A Wake-Up Call

“Whaaaa?”

“Wake the Fuck UP!”

“Who ARE you?”

“Your Muse.”

“Oh, I FORGOT. I Mistakenly Took You for a ‘Nice Female’–Guess I Was Miss-Informed. I Thought You That Delirium Tremens Monster.”

“No. He will be around later. Right now you have me.”

“Okay. Something on your mind?”

“Yes. You need to get up and write.”

“I am sleepy.”

“Time enough to sleep when you’re dead.”

“Really? We gonna go there?”

“Get your ass up; plant your ass on that chair. Hit the keyboard. Write!”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’Want’ has nothing, and everything to do with this.”

“Okay.”

To Be Continued….

Part two here

Long & Convoluted–Just Plain Stupid–iF THIS Post Is In-Co=Her EnTrent. Outta – Whack & Synk & Outta Ink, Makes No Sense–Please Forgive Me Mine–Mind Mind Is Blown!–Yeah, There’s That To Deal.

“I’d Have to be Crazy.”

(I Am,Doncha know?)

My Mind? Still Searchin’ For it—Searchin’ For A rainbow—

Here A Moment a-go-go…Screw it! I am re-Posting This Because I am Still Missing My Sister and Wallowing In My Self-Pity “My TRUE Forever Sister

(Sorry Ann)

***

Sisters:

***

And WORDPRESS IS PISSING ME OFF!

CANNOT DELETE THE REDUNDANT POSTS IN THIS POST

“One Day, You’ll Be Cool”

Said Madelyn to Lance

****

I wanted to post this polished

(And slightly edited)

But, once again,

WordPress is being

STUPID!

So…

What you see

Is what you get!

I cannot edit the Goddamn thing!

I’ll come back to this if I find ‘sober.’

(Don’t set your watch–and do not hold your breath– may be a little minute or five)

Madelyn died a week ago.

I just found out today

(Not on speaking terms with my ‘Family—wonder why)

Had the un-happy news delivered to me in a fucking Facebook Post!

Imagine how I then proceeded to spin out of control!

I LOVED My Adopted Sister!

More than anyone could know.

(Especially HER!)

I never told her!

I should have!

And EVERY-FUCKING DAY!

Alas

I didn’t

EVER!

Fuck me!

Now she is dead.

And I cannot tell her how much I did truly love her.

Some snippets:

Madelyn & Me!

She ‘Maria’ to My ‘Cap’n Von Trapp’

“Sound of Music” HS Play: Circa 1974

(Script demanded we ‘kiss’—never did during rehearsals—but we ‘practiced’ at home.) Opening night, we kissed, not unlike two horny teens. It was painful. (For her. Not for me! I had been waiting for years to kiss her!)

Memories of my B’loved Sister Madelyn:

“My step-sister signed up for that too. She gots tons of LP’s. (Most sucked in my opinion). Then she could not pay the bill for the ones that kept coming. My Father had to bail her out, but that was OK: She was “Daddy’s Little Hippie Princess.” If I had pulled a stunt like that, I would have become an indentured servant for some years to pay it off.

(Do I sound bitter? Have issues?)

Naw.

Hahahah!

Cheers and Happy Friday to you my Friend.”

*****

I loved Madelyn. I really loved her!

And now she’s gone.

Forever.

For Fucking Ever!

There is NO God!

Madelyn & Me!

Memories of my B’loved Sister Madelyn:

“My step-sister signed up for that too.

She gots tons of LP’s. (Most sucked in my opinion). Then she could not pay the bill for the ones that kept coming.

My Father had to bail her out, but that was OK: She was “Daddy’s Little Hippie Princess.”

If I had pulled a stunt like that, I would have become an indentured servant for some years to pay it off.(Do I sound bitter? Have issues?)

Naw.Hahahah!Cheers and Happy Friday to you my Friend.”

*****

I loved Madelyn. I really loved her!And now she’s gone.

Forever.

For Fucking Ever!

There is NO God!

Not one that I could/would/care to recognize anyway.

****************

Fuck all This!

And fuck WordPress!

And FUCK WRITING!

“I’ll not write another line!”

Pass the fucking tea and sympathy!

For SHIT-Sure to be continued….

And

“Toss me a cigarette; I think there’s one in my raincoat.”

iF THIS Post Is In-Co=Herent & Makes No Sense–Please Forgive Me–Mind Mind Is blown! My Mind? Here A Moment a-go-go…Screw it! I am re-Posting This Because I am Still Missing My Sister and Wallowing In My Self-Pity “My TRUE Forever Sister (Sorry Ann)”

Sisters:

***

And WORDPRESS IS PISSING ME OFF!

CANNOT DELETE THE REDUNDANT POSTS IN THIS POST

“One Day, You’ll Be Cool”

Said Madelyn to Lance

****

I wanted to post this polished

(And slightly edited)

But, once again,

WordPress is being

STUPID!

So…

What you see

Is what you get!

I cannot edit the Goddamn thing!

I’ll come back to this if I find ‘sober.’

(Don’t set your watch–and do not hold your breath– may be a little minute or five)

Madelyn died a week ago.

I just found out today

(Not on speaking terms with my ‘Family—wonder why)

Had the un-happy news delivered to me in a fucking Facebook Post!

Imagine how I then proceeded to spin out of control!

I LOVED My Adopted Sister!

More than anyone could know.

(Especially HER!)

I never told her!

I should have!

And EVERY-FUCKING DAY!

Alas

I didn’t

EVER!

Fuck me!

Now she is dead.

And I cannot tell her how much I did truly love her.

Some snippets:

Madelyn & Me!

She ‘Maria’ to My ‘Cap’n Von Trapp’

“Sound of Music” HS Play: Circa 1974

(Script demanded we ‘kiss’—never did during rehearsals—but we ‘practiced’ at home.) Opening night, we kissed, not unlike two horny teens. It was painful. (For her. Not for me! I had been waiting for years to kiss her!)

Memories of my B’loved Sister Madelyn:

“My step-sister signed up for that too. She gots tons of LP’s. (Most sucked in my opinion). Then she could not pay the bill for the ones that kept coming. My Father had to bail her out, but that was OK: She was “Daddy’s Little Hippie Princess.” If I had pulled a stunt like that, I would have become an indentured servant for some years to pay it off.

(Do I sound bitter? Have issues?)

Naw.

Hahahah!

Cheers and Happy Friday to you my Friend.”

*****

I loved Madelyn. I really loved her!

And now she’s gone.

Forever.

For Fucking Ever!

There is NO God!

Madelyn & Me!

Memories of my B’loved Sister Madelyn:

“My step-sister signed up for that too.

She gots tons of LP’s. (Most sucked in my opinion). Then she could not pay the bill for the ones that kept coming.

My Father had to bail her out, but that was OK: She was “Daddy’s Little Hippie Princess.”

If I had pulled a stunt like that, I would have become an indentured servant for some years to pay it off.(Do I sound bitter? Have issues?)

Naw.Hahahah!Cheers and Happy Friday to you my Friend.”

*****

I loved Madelyn. I really loved her!And now she’s gone.

Forever.

For Fucking Ever!

There is NO God!

Not one that I could/would/care to recognize anyway.

****************

Fuck all This!

And fuck WordPress!

And FUCK WRITING!

“I’ll not write another line!”

Pass the fucking tea and sympathy!

For SHIT-Sure to be continued….

And

“Toss me a cigarette; I think there’s one in my raincoat.”

I Kinda LOVE This Post–Not Sure Why—Memories, I Suppose—Happier Times. Up-Dated (Can’t Take ‘The Nav’ Outta The Boy) “Don’t RUST On My Parade”

“In the Navy”–Village PPL:

“Petty Officer Marcom! Your Fifty Cals are Rusty!”

M2 .50 Caliber Machine Gun | Military.com

50 Cal NavyA

U.S. Navy photo by Photographer’s Mate Third Class Daniel J. Mark. Cleared for release by ALBG PAO, LCDR Jeff Bender.

Lance Sailor

Marco The Sailor man

I had to  admit. Yes they were. I had tried so hard to keep ahead of the rust, but here I found myself on the leeward side of the second half of a six-month, ‘round-the-whurl-West Pacific Deployment’, and somewhere just off the coast of Somalia.

Yes, rust was my enemy, certainly never my friend—the machine guns were always mounted while we (The USS Callaghan DDG 994, full cast and crew) were Haze-Gray and Underway.

Yes, always mounted and underway:

Haze-Graying, even then

And rusty

My Guns were always supposed to be… somewhere upon the sea… this is what they were purchased for…

And subject to rust. Rust Relentless. Relentless She Be: That Sea. That Salt of the Fucking Sea

Rust.

My Moby Dick-lessness!

How could I not keep Rust off my guns?

Freud certainly would have had fun with me

(Sadly, now I know why)

************

My professional life was to be found somewhere rusting in those machine guns.

And that rust you see, that rust occupied a great deal of my daily routine.

The Navy had a solution though. She had provided canvas covers to cover those guns and make them safe from rust. Alas, those canvas covers had seen better days, probably back when Pearl Harbor was just an ordinary Naval Base that no one had ever heard of.

But rust is relentless and timeless.

While scrubbing the Indian Ocean rust off’n my fifty-cals one morning I hatched a plan. Knowing full well we were soon to pull into Mombasa Kenya, after so many month at sea, I conspired to save my money:

Once in Mombasa, I would smuggle one of the moth infected, salt- digested, jig saw’d, Swiss Cheese, ‘holy’ canvas shards off the ship. I would rent a taxi, find me a young child, show him my smuggled ‘prize’, ask him to direct me somewhere, where I could find and nickel and dime

(I did not have much money then, not un-life-like now) find a leather shop in Mombasa, present to the leather-maker my Holy Canvas, My Shroud,  My Naval Career, and demand, (for US Dollars), that he make me four such more yet new and brand new.

And functional.

And This is exactly what I did, and to the amazement and astonishment of my Master Chief Petty Officer and my Department Head (almost a Navy Commander…

He kind of looked like JFK, now that I think on it. I  did not like particularly like him, but I respected him. Hell, he reminded me of all the things I could have been if I had joined the Nav when I was twelve instead of twenty-eight (Different story. Sorry)

The next time they inspected my Fifty Cals, they were pristine! (They did not take notice nor time to notice that the canvas covers were not exactly Haze-Gray-Naval Gray. No, more like Third-World-Rustic, with just a tiny bit of water buffalo…left over…but Goddamn sure water and sea salt proof.   

And I was so desirous that they did NOT notice, but my Master Chief did notice, yet, never ever noticing nor voicing his ‘inner thoughts’ in front of what he referred to as “Shit Birds” — ‘Officers’ — Never let on.

Master Chief never, ever let out his truth thoughts in front of Shit – Birds. This was his genius. 

And I should have been cognizant of this, yet I was so somewhat giddy after my .50 Cals had finally passed inspection, that I did not stop to think on that anymore. “Not even Master Chief had seen through my ruse” Yeah, Rite!

 I was drunk with my own cleverness and lying back on my back in my rack, curtain drawn,  congratulating me.

(Now, you must realize how the Military Mind works. I was my Ship’s Armor All–Armorer– IN Charge of All The Ship’s Small Arms! .225 Cal to .50 Cal.

If it took two men to lift, wasn’t mine. But one-man-band? Yep!  I was the shit!  I was a Gunner’s Mate 3rd Class! Freshly rocked out of SEAL Training (twice now, but who counts these sorts of thing? I suppose I do) and trying to retain what little was left of my  pride and my so-fifty-caliber-called-life.)

And I loved and Respected My Master Chief. Did not ever want to become an embarrassment to him, nor to my Fellow Gunner’s Mates who worked on the “Big Guns”. (Those ones what ‘bullets’ took two and a half-men to lift)

And even more important, (anyone who has ever ‘Served’ will know this), the Military is Run On Fear:

“Oh God, Please Don’t Let Me Fuck UP!”

That kind of fear.

Well, as I was lying on my back in my middle rack right before Taps with my little blue ‘privacy’ curtain drawn back when someone jerked that sucker back.

Along with my reverie.

Yep.

Master Chief Anderson!

MY MASTER CHIEF

“Son, tell me where you found those brand new gun covers.”

Trying to lie on my side and find an elbow to lean to, I half-coughed out, feigning sleepy-eyed ignorance,

“Master Chief, I had them made while we were in Mombasa.”

(There are people one may lie to in life, but, A Master Chief Petty Officer in the US Navy is not one found amongst those people. Not if one wishes life beyond that moment of sweet deception)

“I see”, was all he said, as he yanked my curtain back shut, thus leaving me alone with my various and sundry.

I did not sleep that night. For you see, I knew I had broken Naval Regs by doing something not-in-the Naval-Seaman’s-Bible–The Blue Book–The book, inches thick as a brick,  “The Book” I had been made to almost memorize while at Recruit Training Command, i.e. boot camp.

41XgCzuhSdL._AC_UL320_SR214,320_

I had broken the rule.

In the Nav, there is a sea sailor preamble, most requisite when one wants to recount a story of ‘when ships were made of wood and men were made of iron’… “Back when Moses was a pup, and this is a no-shitter” This validates and is a ritual never broken. In other words, one never breaks the rule.

Sometime mid-morning the next day, I was summoned to the berth/office of  The Department Head of my Division, Lt. Commander ‘Kennedy’.

‘Shitting bricks’ is too trite.

I was nervous.

I gave a hearty rap on the bulkhead door as I was trained to do in boot camp…

“Enter!”

“Petty Officer 3rd Class Marcom Sir!”

“I know who you are Lance; sit down.”

(What??? Lance??? Sit Down???)

Mouth agape I sat down, speechless

“Son, Master Chief Anderson tells me you went out on your own, designed, commissioned, smuggled off a prototype, and paid for, with your own money, those .50 Cal Gun Covers. Is this true?”

“Yes, uh, yessir,” I stammered.

“Well, that shows some fine initiative. How much did you pay Son?”

“Un Sir. Doesn’t matter…. I just, well, the .50 Cals, you know SIR,  cost ten-thousand dollars each, and I thought…rust….an…”

“How much did you pay?!”

“250 Dollars Sir.”

Without saying a word he opened a little three-lock-box (OK; I made that up. It was only a one-lock-box) that he had in a drawer, carefully opened it, and proceeded to hand me two-hundred and fifty bucks.

American

I sat there, dumb founded,  a moment too long, still in shock, looking at the bills in my hand…

“Petty Officer Marcom! “

“Huh…Uh, Huh… Sir?”

“You’re dismissed!”

Jumping up, knocking my chair over,  some tears welling in my eyes,

“Yessir!”

As I saluted him and abruptly left his quarters, quite in haste.

And thus I had survived yet another day in MY  Beloved Navy.

And Just As a Reminder Kids:

Don’t Rain on my Parade: I have enuff Rain for All

 

*And this just once more a rough draft, full of error, so be kind. Trust me: there is no harsher critic of me than me. I sweat commas. 

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

HANK SANK (Cinq)

But… Emma….

Rocks My World!

I generally write only about women.

This time I made (half) an exception.

One more silly Facefuk post:

“The below ‘Independence Day’ speech was lifted right out of ‘Henry V’

(Or ‘Hank Cinq’—as I like to call it)

Saint Crispin’s Day: The Battle of Agincourt

Watch Le Both (If you are a film buff)

But do it quickly, because FaceFuck will most likely delete this for ‘copyright violation.’

This is a stupid, silly, mindless film, but I am gonna watch it once more anyway.

(It is a guilty pleasure)”

Battle of Agincourt

Below: Some added value from Henry V (VERY Charming Emma Thompson)

(I just threw this in because I love this scene and I love Emma Thompson–She is beautiful and wonderfully talented)

The best line in this scene is when the maid is trying to say the English word for “foot” but it came out something approaching ‘foutre’. Which is Française for ‘fuck’.

I know this because my Moroccan girlfriend (who was fluent in French) often said to me “Va te faire foutre!” Which means “Go fuck yourself.”

(She could be so charmingly delightful at times. I did love her and her passionate spirit.)

Emma Delights Me: