Today’s Daily Lenny is about Uncle Earl, Guv’na of the Great State of Louisiana.
Now…
Uncle Earl was nuts; that is why we lovedUncle Earl. Especially us Texans loved Uncle Earl, because he was just like our Governors: Whacked Out. Only wors’er.
“If Louisiana eventually elects Duke (David Duke) governor, don’t expect any sympathy from Texas. They sent us one of their barmy governors once before—Earl Long, who was Huey’s crazy brother. Earl finally got so bad his own family shipped him off to a nuthouse in Galveston. We kept him for six weeks and then let him go; he looked like a perfectly normal governor to us.”
On Donald Trump! (Kids, this is the audio you need to listen to. Yes, the names have been changed to protect the guilty) Click the little arrow and follow the Orange Hair Road to Perdition.
Harry
Once Again…
I throw this in (I already paid for it)
Why NOT?
Too tired…but y’all know the thrill drilll… more lenny here:
I’ve had too many “Ipanema Girls” in my life.EnoughFor Two Life-Times. In fact.
Now I grow weary.
And smartly wary.
Vid Cred: catman916
Love!
Astrud Gilberto!
Vocalist: Astrud Gilberto
(Love The Classic Beehive Hairdo, By The Way… Just sayin’.)
*****
Post This Because I love Them!
Them Women!
AndJust Because I LOVE Them!
Every Shape, Size, Matter and Form!
All of them!
I love the Species!
(Street Cred for Vids: catman916)
******
“The Girl from Ipanema” (“Garota de Ipanema”) written in 1962 by Antonio Carlos Jobim with lyrics in Portuguese by Vinicius de Moraes and in English by Norman Gimbel was recorded by Astrud Gilberto, João Gilberto and Stan Getz, in March 1963 as part of the album Getz/Gilberto, released March 1964 on the Verve label.
An abbreviated single version was released reaching number one on the Pop Standard chart and was named Record of the Year in 1965.
The album won the 1965 Grammy Awards for Best Album of the Year, Best Jazz Instrumental Album – Individual or Group and Best Engineered Album, Non-Classical.
The personnel are Stan Getz – tenor saxophone, João Gilberto – guitar, vocals, Astrud Gilberto — vocals, Antonio Carlos Jobim – piano, Sebastião Neto — bass, and Milton Banana – drums.
The version presented here is the long one from the album and is, in my opinion, superior to the shortened one which received a great deal of play on the radio during the summer of 1964.
The album is available on CD on Verve. This sound recording is administered by UMG. No copyright infringement is intended.
This purpose of this upload is for viewer enjoyment and education not for monetary gain.”
–Credit for Share: catman916
***
See why I LOVE Women so much?
Even When They Are NOT Perfect,
They Are Still PERFECT In My Eyes
Cred for Vid: Wat Bradford
And, Believe it or Not, I am Not Un-educated,
Nor Am I Semi-Stupid. Dorothy’s Free Skate, Gold-Medal Performance was NOT Accompanied by ABBA Music.
But It Just ‘Fits’ Better
And U-Boob Will Not Allow Me To Download The Original Performance. Fu*k U, U-Boob!
***
Sorry Y’all. I Just HAD To Drop This In. Call It A ‘Respect Thing’
“The She Marine” And Yes, I Am Painfully Aware: I’m An Idiot Moron. No Need To Verbalize it–Beat Me Over The Head With It. Fuk U Word-De-Pressed
I am struggling, struggling, to catch up. To Catch up With My Life. It seems to be running away from me.
As Fast as it can,
Not Un-Like A Scalded Rabbit
***
I still love her And Always Respect Her
Unlike…
Not too pretty
But a beautiful smile…
“Outside the sun is up
And the wind blows me like a paper cup
Down the Highway”
***
Hazel eyes…
I still love her
August 26, 2021
From my recent posts on facefuck:
I have been asleep for the past eight hours. I am scrambling to catch up. Marines are dead? WTF has happened?
Marines are dead? What happened? Sailors (Me) and Marines (them) oil and water. But Gd’damn it! Brothers/ sisters in arms. Fuck happened? I am struggling to catch up.
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 wordsas she disappearedforever,
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.
Just for a Brief 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.
Linda, “Hasten Down The Wind”
**********************
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 domeever’ time I said that.
I Love Ever’Thang About What We Try To Be As Writers, How We Support One Another,
As Opposed To The ‘Drive-by Likers’ Y’all Know The Ones: They Go To WP Reader and Clik ‘Like’–
Never Even Reading The Post They Just ‘Liked’
Young writer searching inspiration, with an old typewriter.
Personal case in point:
Few hours ago, I got thirty ‘Likes’ within the short span of three minutes. Now, I, as most of you, generally post stuff that takes, at-the-very least, sixty seconds to peruse, longer to read, longer still to write a relevant, germane, thought-out thoughtful comment.
Y’all see where I am going with this?
****
I Detest ‘Drive-By Likers. Thank My God (I Can Co-op God, even as a ‘Devout’ Atheist)) I Thank God, I Have Been ‘Bless’d With a State-of-the-Art Bullshit Detector
Who Are Usually Just tryin’ to Sell Some Snake Oil for Flattering A Newbie, Just Tryin’ To Get Started With Bloggin. I HATE Drive-By Likers Trying to Fleece The Nativity of The Younger Amongst Us. Gus
I am NOT In The Market For Snake Oil Or Magic Beans. Honesty Is All I Will Tolerate. And If You Doubt The efficacy of My BullShit Detector, well… Try Me
Honesty is Sometimes a Lonely Word
Cred… Guess. Y’all Think I am Gonna Do ALL the Work? Think Again
*****
I Love Our Writer/Blogger Brother/Sister In The Hood, Hood.
Just Wanted To Get That Out There…
For Posterity.
Wonderful World of Worthy Writers!
Real, For Reals Writers
We are, each of us, all of us, complicated, worthy people, full of brightly brilliant ideas, passionate passions, boundless potentials and infinite possibilities.
We are “Writers,” which makes us just a little bit different, special, andweird.
(In a very good way)
We each have our own personal foibles, strengths, weaknesses, levels of humanity, quirks, degrees of sanity, degrees of insanity, levels of intelligence, variancesof meanness,variancesof kindness, oscillatingmagnitudes of mood, cascades of creativity, brilliance of brevities, vacillating verbosities, and on and on…
In short we are all individuals possessing something unique that only each unique one amongst us can share.
And THAT, My Dear “Special Writer-Friends” is whatmakes this vocation so Magical.
And so very fulfilling and so very rewarding.
***
Ninety-Nine Percent of my Writing is Autobiographical.
And I know from visiting the Blogs, that most of my Fellow Writers, at the very least, Write a good deal of same.
For me, I find it healthy and cathartic.
Your mileage may vary.
But remember Socrates’ renowned statement,
“The unexamined life is not worth living.”
Content Credit: “School of Life”
***
Some of us have our own personal agendas.
Some of us do not.
Yet,We, each and every one of us, is worthy: Agenda Full, orAgendaEmpty.
Honestly, I am fresh out (of agendas)currently, but I am shopping for one to rent.
***
Upon ‘Sober’ Reflection…
(Yes! I have Quit for Good, The Drinking–Having Chosen Life Over Death Because I still have years and years and years worth of shit I want, need, to write and to share.)
Yes!Upon sober reflection, I realize I DO have an agenda after all: My ‘agenda’, modest as it may appear, is to spread a little joy and deliver a bit of enrichment into the people’s lives who honor me by investing some of that most valuable, finite commodity we ALL share:
“Time”
I work very diligently not to waste even one single moment of yours, because there is no such thing as a ‘Money-Back-Time-Guarantee’.
“Love It, Or We’ll Refund All Your Time Spent. With Interest. No Questions Asked! Guaranteed!”
Sorry.Don’t work that way.
Some of us are Brilliant, Talented Writers.
Some us are just getting started and may need advice from time to time. Just ask; you will most likely get an inbox overflowing full.
“So, You Want To Be A Writer?”
Street Cred for Vid: Shea, Et al.
***
Some of us are polished, published, poets, prose-writers, playwright professionals, some of us are copywriters, some of us are even journalists, some of us are a combination ofa few or of them all.
Some of us have genetic talent.
Some of us must work harder at it.
Most of us sufferWriter’s Block from time to time:
Content Credit: “Ivan Kander”
***
But the fact that we are all here,grinding out word after word,
Proves our worth and our respect for our craft.
And the Fact that you are reading these words right now proves you have respect for your fellow writers in Our Wonderful Writer’s Community
I think what my ‘message’ is trying (and most likely failing) to eloquently say… is that I love the writers in my fellow writer community.
We all have worth.
(Well except for that worthless schmuck who don’t like Lenny Bruce… and Y’all know I am even just kidding on that.)
“Thank You Mask Man”
Video Share Credit: ThankYouMaskedMan1
Kinda
Not Really!
Neverkid About Comedy; Comedy is SeriousBusiness!
Never Joke About Lenny; Lenny is Serious Business!
And if Y’all Think I’m a Serious Person, and not joking, I am gonna purchase you a one-way ticket to ‘The Re-Education, Never-Take-Lance-Too-Seriously Gulag Facility’, recently re-modeled and up-graded–it has running water now.
And Gulag Goulash Every Saturday Night.
–Lance, Your Humble & Worthy Servant, Who Loves, and Respects, All of ‘Y’alls’.
Yes. I’ve done some incredibly stupid shit in my time.
Below is an actual-for-real email I sent to a soon-to-be former boss (an attractive lady-boss, of course.) and is sadly very close to the top of the Misfit Hit Paradeof lame-ass-actions I have perpetratedon innocents.
***
I have swerved into the solution for Drunken Emails.
Who could’ve known it would be this simple?
Street Cred for Vid: Big Play Films
***
From: Moron<lance_moron@misfits.fubar>cc bcc:
To: Lady_Boss@job.yrfired
Subject: Tattoo
Dear Suki,
Yes, I am getting a tattoo (for my ‘mousing’ musing hand).
It will read simply, succinctly, in Big Bold Letters:
“No!”
Subtle Reminder:
“No! Don’t Go There Lance!”
Brevity? Yes. (‘That soul of wit.’)
“Words have meaning Son,” my father often told me.
And short words, I have discovered, oft hold the most meaningful meaning.
It has been ‘awkward’ (to say the very least) to face you of late.
After my ‘email shot-gunning’ you, off-the-chain escapade of recent shameful regret, but… I did it and today found the courage to read all of what I did send and happily discovered, most were not of the obnoxious caliber of my historical wont.
Thank God and Baby Hey Zeus!
Alas, I wish I had an excuse.
Yet, in searching, there is one to be discovered, but so probably painfully evident that it requires no verbalization:
Two times per year, I get to ‘explore’ my darker side.
Two times per year, I choose a ‘lucky’ recipient to ‘share’ in my darkness.
Two times per year someone gets to be ‘it’.
Guess what?!
Tag!
You won!
You’re the New ‘IT’ Girl!
Congratulations!
You’re in Good Company.
Clara Bow: The Original It Girl, 1927
***
The thing about writers (and those so-called writers who call themselves ‘writers’) is that they are so full of themselves, and vain by nature (it is requisite-with the breed), and every writer and so-called writer I have ever met, are… assholes. All.
Vain, pompous, drinks-too-much, full of sound and fury, and desperate.
“A tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
Desperate for…
Crying for…
Waiting for…
FEEDBACK
I am not (not really) stupid.
I know you cannot ‘comment’ nor even acknowledge, via email, all the posts I posted ‘at you.’
I dare say you would be wise to ignore me and my ramblings, given our professional relationship.
Yet, if you did read even one of the posts on my blog, (actually I think you read the first one I begged you to read—not the ‘best’ one, but one which apparently was on my mind–at the time)
It is a very simple thing to comment, ‘in disguise’ as
‘anonymous.’
Or ‘any-mouse.’
Or simply, “A Fan.” (tongue in cheek)
Too easy.
Do that once and I will be sated.
Do it twice and you get a Mickey Mouse Pencil Sharpener,
OR
An Autographed8X10 Hollywood-Type-Glossy Photograph of Jesus Christ.
Sermon-on-the-mount, highly recommended, and our best-seller
But you cannot have both; there is a limited supply.
Do it thrice: You should seek counsel.
Professional help.
Honestly.
Never mind…
“Writers are assholes.”
“Lance is a ‘writer’”
“Ergo, Lance is an asshole.”
***
Suki,
There is a point to this post, but most assuredly, I have forgotten my initial inclination in that regard.
***‘Jeopardy musical theme plays***
Oh yes!
Now I’ve got it!
This is my convoluted apology to you.
I am, and shall always remain, an Honorable Military Man.
I am cognizant of the duty (and the mission)
And, admitting I was wrong is something which seems to be easier (and more difficult—same time) to do lately.
My first wife once accused me of aspiring to be “King of the Idiots.”
(She was an idiot savant…well, you’d have to know her to get my meaning, yet, I think–know, that I have posted about her…ON-MY-BLOG)
Back to my point:
Suki,
I am beginning to grow bored with my job.
You are the best supervisor/boss I have had in recent memory. All, and I do mean ALL respect you.
This should be enough for me (and for the foreseeable future it shall be)
But…
I don’t like to shit where I eat, BUT (and this is a curse), I have a opinions and I need to get that tattoo—post haste—and with all due prejudice.
I like you Suki.
I respect you.
I am trying to help you professionally (in my way).
And NO!
I am not trying to ‘do’ anything other than ‘talk’ to you and ‘work’ for you.
To quote Nixon:
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear…”
I am a whore, but only when it comes to my writing.
Nothing else these days (aside from my computer addiction) means anything to me.
Rest easy.
I am not as bad as I may, at first glance, seem.
(Truth: I am worse, but I do not bring that to WORK)
Cheers,
—Lance
(Yes: you may quote me. I’d be flattered…. Hahahahaaa)
