Trolling For Baited Breath

“Dear Peggy, Just ‘Bee’ Happy”

And Sing.

Even if it is Your Swan… Song

Vid Share Cred: Peacock Kids

***

Someone Just Called me a “Troll”
Am I?

I don’t Know.

Don’t Think So.

Perhaps… A Little

But Ain’t We All. To some Degree?

****

No! I know!

Troll? I am none!

I am a decent, caring, good, honest man.
God-damnit!

I say what I mean and I mean what I say.
Here is some proof, Ruth:

Peggy Ames… (Last Name redacted) :

“Soul Alchemy I am not sure but I think L. Marcom Is a troll! If not there appears to be other issues there that responding to could create further issues! At least be observant!”

My Respond To Peggy Ames:

“Dear Lady (BTW, My Mother’s Name was “Peggy’–May she rest in peace. You are not my mother–so do not pass unsustainable judgements on me)

I am going to leave you with this (Yes. Your insult cut me to the quick and hurt much)

From my recent post on FB:

“Someone Just Called me a “Troll”

“Troll?” I am none!

I am a decent, caring, sharing, (somewhat daring) good man.

God-damn it! Never a ‘Troll’. I take the time.

And Drop My Dime to comment on posts I ‘Like.’

I am no ‘Drive-by Liker.’

People deserve feedback when they post something that they spent some time constructing.

That’s all.

I am not a ‘Troll” I am a good, gracious, (somewhat humble) man.

Here is proof:”

Already dropped that in… see above Peggy. ‘Callen’

***

Hey Peggy!

Keep Them Doggies Movin’!

I’d Venture A Wager That’s The One Thing You’re Great At:

Staring at The Ass-End of Cows.

As They Keep Trying to Move Far Far and Farther Away From You.

Almost Cut My Hair

Hair Hair Every Where!

And Thank God!

I’ll Never go BALD!

(It is a Genetic Thang!)

Good Hair Genes

Possessed By Me!

Almost cut my hair
It happened just the other day
It’s gettin’ kinda long
I coulda said it was in my way
But I didn’t and I wonder why
I feel like letting my freak flag fly
Yes, I feel like I owe it to someone
.”

Songwriters: Crosby

***

Fun Fact: David Crosby spent a lot of time in the Dallas County Jail (back in the Day–I was So Proud….of Him. & and of the Jailers!

****


But I Did Not.

(Cut my hair)

I did, however comma,
Shave my Beard.
For You See…

Frankly…

I had ‘groan’ weary of looking like Ted (Bat-Shit Crazy) Kaczynski.

(And scaring the little children)

I am, Inherently… A Good, Kind, Caring, Loving Man:

Who Respects The Sensibilities and Human Foibles.

***

Lord Knows I have cornered the Market on ‘Foibles

***

Somehow Related Below

(Trust Me: I am With YOUR Government!)

Hooray For Hollywood! Wish I Could… Still Give a Shit. But The Magic is Gone. Long Gone. So Long!

Street Cred for Vid: kherrick90

Credit: TOPPOP: Star sisters

“Any barmaid can be a star-made”

*******

Hey Film Buffs!
This (Below) is Required Watching!

Right On!

Spot On!

Dead On!

Thank YOU! Critical Drinker Man!

You Nailed My Same Same Sentiment!

Visit Crit Drinker Here Below:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCSJPFQdZwrOutnmSFYtbstA

The Genesis of all this Bullshit:

*****

And No!
I also did NOT watch ‘The Oscars’ on My Tee-Vee Either.

I had Something Better to Do!

Like Picking The Lint Outta My Belly-Button.

(Which Was More Gratifying & Satisfying)

******

Golden Age
Lost Now–Magic Has Gone
Never Get It Back
That Ship Has Sailed
Out-of-Sight
Missing Somewhere Over That Recent Rainbow…

Come On!

Get Happy!!

What a Dame!

Judy! Judy! Judy!


******

No Business Like Show Business….
Adding-dumb Dumb da Dumb

(I miss my Daddy; He loved Old Movies)

******

Bonus’esses

Excesses???

(Bring Your Own Dresses)

It’s Silly and Stupid

(But Rather Endearing) :

*****

I love My Oh So Rich American Culture–I Ain’t Rich, but surely you know what I mean.

I love my excesses

Bring your own dresses

*****

Am I gay?

No!

No Way!

I don’t Play that way.

(I just Color outside the lines.)

Roach Motel

SEE YA! WE BE OUTTA HERE!

BUGS!

I LOVE You Bobbie Gentry!

“Hey Look At me! With the DDT!”

Naw, that would be ‘against-the-law!’

And your point is?

Hehehehe…evil laugh

“Hey MS Muse, Reach me that spray can of DDT: The one we got from the feed store.

Oh! And ‘Please & Thank You’ in Advance.”

(Don’t need no more ‘Muse-ic Drama’)

She put down her Rubik’s Cube, grabbed the DDT can and bounced it off my head.

That’s my Gal!

BUGS!

Video Credit: benjichilders

More Unsolicited ‘Opinion’ From Y’all’s Favorite Asshole: C’est Moi.

“Donovan:”

ChildKing of The Boy Wonder, One-Hit Wonders:

“Atlantis” Way down below the fuckin’ Ocean. You shoulda remained there. Dear Donnie. Just sayin’.

Bobbie Gentry Did him a Solid by even allowing him on her TV show.

How lame was he?

Trust me: The Math breaks down at this point.

But He was Pretty-Boy Lame

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

So… I’m sleeping one off when I felt something tickling.

Woke up and discovered a rather plumpish large roach parked on my nose.

(Had to go cross-eyed to look at him—yes, I am assuming gender here—my bad)

He jumped off my nose onto my chin.

Then he spoke to me:

“Hey Bubba, we be outta here.”

Still half-asleep and somewhat groggy, all I could muster was, “Whaaat?”

Mister Roach continued, “We are leaving your Dumb Ass.”

I bolted upright, causing Mister Roach to tumble onto my mattress.

“Take a gander Mutha Fukker!” He shouted out of his Little Roach Lips.

But I heard him well enough.

Focused my eyes on the floor. Sure as shit, there was a single file line of cockroaches, some carrying suitcases, some wearing backpacks, all marching quick-time toward my back door. I looked up and saw a squadron of gnats flying over the marching roaches, providing air-cover I quickly surmised.

Spokesman Roach was preparing to jump off my mattress, but before he leapt down to join his comrades, he turned to me and said, “Don’t you wanna know why we are leaving your sorry ass?”

“Not really,” I replied. “But I figure you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Damn Skippy Asshole.”

“Well, get it off your chest then. Does your kind have chests, by the way? I have spent many a sleepless night pondering this heavy mystery.”

“Very Funny You Schmuck,” He shot back.

He coughed up some vile phlegm, depositing it on my mattress.

And continued, “For your edification (This was a literate Roach, with a solid command of The Queen’s English) For your edification, he repeated, we have thoraxes.”

“I am praying you will soon arrive-at-the-point,” I said.

He obliged:

“Here is our list of grievances,” He said, handing me a sheet of toilet paper. “Read and Weep. Then wipe your ass.”

I perused the paper and discovered this Piercing Eloquence:

“To Wit, Please Discover Below Our Valid and Legitimate Justifications For ‘Buggin’ Out.”

(I had to laugh at that—This Roach had a sense of humor—who knew?)

I continued my read:

  • This ‘Host Human’ is a nasty son of a bitch—no shower in weeks—even by our standards, this is beyond the pale
  • There is no uneaten food anywhere to be found in this ‘Mouse House’
  • The ‘Music’ he plays (too loudly) assaults our sensibilities and disrupts our concentration
  • He has been known to spray, indiscriminately, recklessly, RAID at our brother and sister gnats, thus branding him as a ‘Mass-Murderer’
  • He is ugly and disgusting
  • He is stupid

“Seems to me Y’all have put a great deal of thought into this… uh… ‘Declaration of Independence,” I said, handing him back his manifesto.

“Yes, we have. Now will you kindly get the door so that we may make good our departure?”

“Sure,” I said. But one question before you ‘Bug Out.”

“Make it quick Jerk; we have somewhere to be.”

“Where are you going? What will Y’all do?”

“Never mind what we will do. Just get the damn door.”

“But how will you get to where you are going?”

“If you must know, there is a ‘Roach Coach’ headed here as we speak. Catch ya laters.”

I opened the door and waited until the Caboose of the Bug Train made it out into the parking lot. I stood in the doorway and lo’ and behold, I saw a Roach Coach (Meskin, judging by the paint scheme on the vehicle). Seemed fitting I suppose: La Cucaracha.

Even though MY Roaches were all Texican/American Roaches and spoke even less Meskin than me.

I wished them well.

Oh Well.

I suppose they could learn. MY Roaches were not idiots. I mean, under good leadership, they had the intelligence to abandon a sinking ship.

I stepped back into my hooch; shut and locked the door; sat down on my bed. Was thinking,

“Well fuck them! My Ingrate Pets. I need to adopt a Dog, or a Cat, or an Armadillo, or an Ant Farm of Fire Ants—any one of which would be more loyal.”

As I was sitting there feeling all alone and abandoned, I became aware of a funky odor and it was ME!

So I spent ‘An Hour In The Shower.’

“I dream of things I can’t say, or I’ll get put away.”

******

To Put A Cork In This Story:

Never put your Faith in Roaches or Gnats. They are fickle and never loyal. They will not stand by you during the lean times.

Get Yourself an Armadillo.

Cheers Y’all!

P.S., “Never hit your Mother with a Shovel. It leaves a Dull Impression on Her Mind.”

–Butch Cassidy

****

Just for you, Donavan:

Credit where Credit is Due:

This was/is a great Song.

Too bad it is all you had in you.

But Hey! Ride that Fame-Train.

Until you run outta track

Video Credit: Carlos Lara

By the way, Donovan, you ain’t no Cat Stevens

Sorry:  ‘Yusuf Islam’

(Difficult to keep up with all you ‘stars’ name changes—Identity changes.)

“Yusuf Islam’—Gag me with the ‘Woke-Ness’ Monster spoon, but Cat,

Your wonderful music supersedes your lame-ass identity politics.”

Hey Cat/‘Yusuf!

I’m still looking for ‘That Hard-Headed Woman.

HBO?

Help a brother out?

And Cat/Yusuf, I too have known a lot of fancy dancers.

They need not apply.

I am in the Crusade of ‘REAL.’

****

Oh shit! A sudden fear comes upon me:

“What if MS Muse swerves into this post?”

I’ll tell ya what:

It will not be a pleasant experience for your humble servant, that’s what.

P.P.S., I LOVE The Art.

I Give zero shits about the ‘Artists’ Politics.

I love and Appreciate The ART

These sentiments of mine are well-documented in these pages.

One Last Addendum for You, Cat/Yusuf:

My Ph.D.,

University Prof/Third wife

said these words to me shortly after Cat Stevens changed his ‘Religion’ (and his name) from whatever-it-was to Islam:
“I always knew he was ‘that way.’”
“What way?” I asked.
“Islamic- Ass-Misogamist,” she said.
“You do not know that,” I said back. “You are ignorant on this topic.”
She stormed away.

Needless to say, I did not get laid that day.
And for many days thereafter.
Bitch saved grudges like cash money.