This Is Just Yet Another Tease (‘Wonton ‘a-Meri-ca’)

For A Post I have Bouncing About in My Head.

Working Title:

“Wonton America.”

(You Have Probably Already Figured Out Why This Is Timely

And Apropos)

Street Cred for Vid:  ‘Playing For Change

****

(Yeah. I know The Musical Selection is Miss-Matched.

And the Language is ALL Wrong!

But it Suits My Purpose)

So There!

****

And word to Some Wise:

Don’t Go THERE.

I will hurt Your Feelings

******

Yeah.

It is Gonna Be About

All The Years I Spent In

South-East Asia.

DUH!

And About LOVING & Cherishing  

All The People I had the Honour To Know There….

****

Stay Tuned.

Don’t Change That Dial!

****

P.S., I LOVE MY LIFE!

*****

Pee Pee Esss:

I have been to Cuba only Once.

(And I didn’t even manage to get off my ship)

Pretty Sure Next Time I Get To Go…

I’ll Be Arriving

At

Get Mo!

(That’s Me: Second Guy On The Bottom Left)

Michelle, Ma Belle: Tease

“Michelle, ma belle.  These are words that go together well. My Michelle”:

This is a ‘teaser’ for something I am currently working.

(‘Tis an expanding part of my “Great Mistakes Naval Training Center” Nascent Series)

Remember

The Marine”?

The Little Blonde One?

Of Course you do!

This will be way better.

Believe me?

Good.

I have this bridge for sale; kindly follow me into the ‘Showroom.’

We’ll talk ‘Price’ later…

For now, just gape, gasp, and be awestruck.

And Remember Kids: I don’t do fiction.

All my ‘stories’ are bona-fide.

Continued Here:

Video Credit: Starr’s Music

**********

Anyone ever notice that Paul McCartney can’t speak French for Shit?

“Me Shell… My Bell”

Really Paul?

Please stick to English Paul.

And this from a Texan who destroys French with a Texan accent.

“Mercy Bow Chops Y’all!”

(OK. Not that bad, but almost)

I have been perma-banished from Paris… France.

They still welcome me in Paris, Texas.

Thank God!

The Marine

Transcribed from a Facebook IM Chat session I recently had with my best (perhaps only) Friend:

Talking to you about Great Mistakes Naval Training Center reminded of a pleasant memory…

Of A Woman—I know—difficult to fathom while listening to all my other ‘Sea-Stories’, but this one is a ‘no-shitter.’ Just trust me.

There were no less than two-thousand sailors stationed at Great Mistakes… but only one Marine: a beautiful young She-Marine.

She stood out!

Far From The Madding Crowd!

Easy to spot from half a clik away—she wore camouflaged fatigues.

Now, you can only begin to understand the fascination this young She-Marine held for the rest of us…

(I may need to write more on her Odyssey. She was the quintessential elusive butterfly—two thousand sailors just wanted to get close enough to speak to her—during the six months she was there—I hope she landed well)

To my knowledge, no one ever got close enough to discover her name; we just always called her “The Marine.”

No one, and I mean no ONE, ever accosted her.

For if someone ever had, that moment would have been his last.

For you see, we were all very protective of her.

And she was protected.

Very well protected, even if she didn’t know it.

(Turns out, she finally did–come to know it–thanks to a moron.

Which moron?

I’ll give you three guesses, but you’re only gonna need one)

None of us harbored any vain fantasies regarding her.

She had become everyone’s…

To respect and keep safe & sound & sheltered…

From an always respectful distance.

****

On my very last morning at Great Lakes Naval Training Center, before I was to muster out and ship off to San Diego/Coronado for BUD/s – SEAL training, I found myself in the Chow Hall for one last ‘delicious’ Navy Breakfast.

If memory serves it was about 0630 hrs.

I went through the cow, er.. Chow- Line, grabbed a cuppa Joe, or Fred, or Jane—don’t matter—it all tasted the same.

Walking about, looking for a table, I spied MS Marine, seated all alone, laconically, rather absent mindedly, stirring her scrambled, powdered eggs (a Navy delicacy).

I Thought, ‘What the hell?’

Walked over to her table and asked, “May I join you?”

She looked up and said, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

*****

Now, please allow me to explain something.

At this point in my life, I had already been around the world.

I had seen, loved, and un-loved more women than it may be prudent for me to admit.

But this one, this Lady Marine—actually not much more than a girl—full of hope and promise, was not terribly beautiful, but she had that ‘certain charme’ –en Francais.

Kinda semi-short blonde locks, ‘bout five foot nothin’, wonderful blue eyes, and she smiled at me.

She smiled at me!

****

I took a seat across from her, set my tray down, extended my hand and said,

“My name’s Lance.”

She took my hand, smiled again and said, “My name’s Mandy.”

(Of course it is, I thought—fits my ‘Mandy’ Profile—see my ‘Mandy Post’ for read –more-about-it-info)

“Nice to meet Y’all Mandy”

Yeah, I like to dazzle ‘em with my Texan-ness—My only claim to fame.

I continued, “Mandy, pardon me for being so bold, but I am compelled to ask you something, if I may.”

She picked up her coffee and said, “Sure. Go ahead.”

“First of all, you do realize you are unique here, yes?”

“Not sure I get your meaning,” she replied.  “I am not the only female stationed here.”

“This is true Mandy, but you are the only Female Marine stationed here.”

“You said you had a question?”

“Uh, yes…” (I could tell ‘The Corps’ had already installed into her a very good, state-of-the-art, ‘Bullshit Detector’—and little patience for doe-eyed Sailors)

“Uh…yeah. I… just, it seems… uh, it seems you are a bit ‘down’. Why?”

She looked me dead in my eyes, and as any good, steely-eyed Marine would, with nothing to fear said,

“You said I was unique here. I concur. I am. I am ‘unique’ in the fact that none of the men ever talk to me here—for six months—I am a normal girl. Nothing wrong with me. I see the sailors talking to all the female Navy Corpsmen Students. Laughing, carrying on. Yet I am left alone. Why?”

This is when I realized that by worshiping this young girl from the distances, we had done her an unkindness, or worse.

I tried, poorly, to explain how all that had happened.

She glared at me, briefly. Then I caught a trace of tears in her eyes.

She picked up her coffee once again, took a sip, set it down, abruptly stood up, grabbed her tray and said,

“Thank you for telling me Lance, but you should’ve told me months ago. Good luck with your Naval career. Oh, and by the way, I noticed you many times. You seemed to be a leader, with some maturity. I often wondered if you would ever come and speak to me. Guess you were never in a hurry to do so.”

I stared at her back as she was walking away.

And I was suddenly saddened.

We, all of us, had done this wonderful young woman a horrible disservice.

To this day, I still remember her lovely face and her brief smile at me.

And the way she carried herself so well.

And her piercing parting words as she disappeared forever,

Except from my memory.

*****

There must be a lesson somewhere to be learned here.

******

This could’ve been my fulfilled vain fantasy.

With Mandy-the-Marine

If I had just opened my eyes.

For a moment.

***********

Doesn’t really fit my narrative.

But it could.

If we had hooked up.

****

Flash forward ten years:

She still young at heart and still a Marine.

Me, older, not still a Sailor. And boring to her.

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

Addendum, final thoughts,

and…

Bonus ‘Added Value’:

First, I love MY Country.

Second, I was honored to Serve My Country

Third, Even though Marines & Sailors mix like oil and water, there is a mutual respect shared there.

Fourth, I never let any Marine I ever met forget that the USMC ‘works’ for the U.S. Navy.

(Got my ass kicked more than a few times for relating that paralyzed fact)

Go Navy!

Beat Army!

“Hey Jarhead! Fetch me a water!

With true Marine efficiency, I got three, count ’em, three bottles of water immediately bounced off my dome ever’ time I said that.

(And from three different directions!)

But, I’d keep sayin’ that!

Something Wrong

(This Post Is A Chocolate Mess–All Over The Place)

There must be something inherently wrong

Something inherently, just wrong, with a man who can love Joni Mitchell–Mitchell and LBJ all in the same virtual ‘sentence’

I have seen idiots from ‘Both Sides Now’ And… I have been the ‘Both Sides’ Idiot. Still am, I suppose.

Well, there you have it: My virtual dichotomy.

I love ‘em both.

Surely it is a Texan thang.

I surely do hope so.

For, if so, there is still hope for those of us who call ‘Texas’ our home.

We do ‘sailor on’…

There will be some commentary on “The Atomic Cafe” soon…

(http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/atomic_cafe/)

BONUS ‘ADDED’ VALUE:

Credit: ClassicPerformances2

OOO! Atom Bomb Linda Baby!

Thank You Linda for helping me Tie a Bow on This One

And Put It To BED

OK. I lied.

(Never trust any words that come out of a sailor’s mouth.)

*****

I have expended a lot of virtual ink on Linda.

But I ain’t no where near to being done here.

Vis-à-Vis Linda

******

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Institutionalized ‘R’ Us: Or, That Place I Need/Want To Be

How I sometimes See/Experience My Mental Life:

I have come to the stark realization that I am at my best when institutionalized.

Long and varied History of this

Follow The Orange Brick Roads if You Be Fearless, or Feckless–Either Works For Me:

My point, if I have one, is that I need ‘Structure/Routine/Schedule’ in my life.

Without routine/structure in my life…

This is one reason I was a good SFM/Egypt/Israel Man.

And such a great Sailor/Military Man.

And such a good Iraq Man

And such a good… Fuck it!

Y’all have picked up on my point.

Without routine/structure in my life…

I become self-destructive.

No! I do NOT slice my wrists.

I do NOT (overmuch) eat garbage food.

I do not (overmuch) drink too much OK, THAT is a Bald-Faced Lie.

I do NOT Listen (overmuch) to Disco.

I do NOT (overmuch) watch CNN.

I do not (overmuch) shit-post on Facebook.

But What I actually do and do too overmuch and over the top, is think too much.

Way too much

Reflect too much.

****

Returning to the original point of this post:

I need to be institutionalized.

Or as my Father once confided in me:

“I live in my own little world, but it’s okay: They know me there.”

****

Flash Forward to ‘Present Day’:

Here we discover Lance, Living Large in The Lion’s Den.

No schedule.

No responsibilities

Nowhere to need to be

Sustainable cash inflow (Thanks Social Security)

Minimal Friends, FaceBook or otherwise to fret over.

Don’t feel compelled to answer my telephone if I don’t want to.

Valhalla, Right?

Heaven, Right?

Waco Texas, Right?

Wrong!

I am in Peril: With a capital ‘P’.

Left alone to my own devices and vices…

Well, it ain’t pretty.

And it ain’t nothin’ nice.

*****

I may or may not expand upon this derailed train of thought.

We’ll see.

(If I get any feedback, I’ll make an effort)

But, Y’all do realize, I am so busy right now going insane—almost a full-time job—requires almost all of my creative capital and ‘mental’ energy.

But, Please Stay Tuned.

Because if I know nothing else, I know I love my Readers.

Cheers Y’all,

–Lancers

P.S., Fairly Certain I would do quite well in Prison

(I have already been over the years)

But Pretty sure if I wanted to go to a ‘Real’ Prison, I could figure out how to get my cab fare–gratis

–L

Just Another Example Of How I Tempt Fate With My Abusive Muse

I cannot resist.

Because I am a Simple-Minded, Dumb-Ass Sailor.

Apropos and Poignant Songs For Our Current Current.

(But ‘Don’t Let It Bring You Down’—‘Sorry Neil’)

Y’all Know I am Ninety Percent Positive and Upbeat.

So, My Mood WILL Improve with just a little ‘liquid propulsion.’

“Hey Muse! Reach Me A Beer! I am a Man Indeed in Need!”

MS Muse saunters over, smacks the shit outta Me, Up-Side My Head, then says,

“That is all what you ‘Need.’ Now get back to work and STOP SHIT-POSTING.”

(Guess I will be fetching my own beers from now on.)

“Dogs Eat Dogs. Cats Eat Rats. Rats Eat Roaches. Big Fish Eat Smaller Fishes,

But Humans Eat Earth,

And Shit Her Out.

Then Just Walk Away.

(Please Watch this one—it does not end when you think it should)

I LOVE you Joni!

Artifice, brutality, and innocence

“The Perfect Girl: She Is All That Matters”

Lord Knows, I Have Had A Few

“Keep The Drinks Comin’ Girl, ’till I can’t Feel Anything.”

Fun Fact (Justin Case You Missed It) :

Joni Is The Soldier In The Video.

Shallow, Empty Lives, Devoid of Substance (But at Least We Retain Our Shiny Toys)

BONUS TRACK:

All these songs belong to Joni

(But Y’all knew that already)

Yep. I stole them.

But Joni and I are ‘tight’–She forgives me.

There is one exception:

The one I stole from Neil Young

Gentle Readers:

If Y’all Frequent My Blog It Helps if You are a ‘Joni Fan.’

Just sayin’.

*******

Just for Convenience, and out of respect and fondness for my Readers,

I drop in this Lancelot, Secret Chimp

Missing Link

To ‘Abusive Muse’

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

Just stop and say “Hello in There” ever’ once in a while.

(But not to me: I am an asshole)