“You Got an EBP?”


This means “Eye-Ball Problem.”

Generally a statement hurled from a black woman at someone who is staring at her.

I love strong black women (Hell! I don’t think I have ever met a weak black woman–they just do not exist.)

Anyway… Here is my “EBP” story.

It is very ‘light,’ so don’t get excited.



I just had something stuck in my eye (who has NOT experienced this at least a thousand times?)

Well, it is always unpleasant.

I grabbed the Visine and tried to flush it out.

No Dice.

Kept flushing.

No dice.

Finally, maybe some relief, but…

Wanted to rub my eyeball.

Voice inside my head:

“Don’t do it Lance! Don’t do it! Put your head down. Let gravity do that gravity thing and let it come out on its own. Just keep your head down and keep blinking. This will all turn out fine. Trust me, I’m with the Government”

“Fuck off, Voice inside my head,”

But Finally, that worked.

“Thank you, voice inside my head for saving me from me.”

Voice inside my head said, “You’re fucking welcome. Don’t call me again any time soon, mmmm kay?”

“Okay. We still on for lunch tomorrow?”

I Don’t Even Know Where to Begin

I thought the world


fucked on August 08, 2014.

Little did I know

I had no idea things were so good then compared to where we would find ourselves on August 08, 2020.

We are, all of us, properly fucked.

(At least we shall all go down together.)

While Riding On this Blue Marble.

Escape From Memphis—Chapter Six

There are some missing Chapters.
But writing, not unlike life, is not linear.
(Is that a word?—linear?)
I mustered up some courage and some sobriety, and that is a very narrow window to dive through.
Managed to go to the ‘Commerce Rent-A-Shed’ and retrieve half of my shit.
(I had dreamed about this the night before)
Had it all planned out…
NE-Way, I did it, next day

Truthfully, within three hours–sleep and I have issues of late.

Sleep to me now is akin to death–we do not get along.
Damn near to kilt me.

BP off the chart.
But before I came home, I stopped off at Wal*Mart and purchased some more…
Drum roll…
All be good in my neighborhood.
Got home.
Off-loaded my shit,
Got drunker than I already was…
(Now, mind you, I did NOT drive to Wal*Mart drunk, I was ‘mildly intoxicated,’ big diff.
Only an alcoholic would know the substantial difference.
Got ‘Home’, off-loaded my shit.
Three or six days later…
It, my shit, surrounds me, mocking.
Boxes and boxes of my life.
Waiting to be ‘unboxed.’
I am a busy man, and cannot be bothered.
Perhaps tomorrow.

Escape From Memphis–Chapter Two

So I woke up the next day, around the crack of noon.

No hangover.

Alcoholics do not suffer hangovers.

We are immune.

We do, however suffer other, potentially more serious maladies:

Delirium tremens

Panic attacks.

Disgusting  bouts of vomiting.


Liver damage.

Irrevocably lost friendships.

Broken marriages.

Broken lives.

Saying “I’m sorry,” ten thousand times—never takes–but say it anyway.

I could go on, but I’d like to finish this post sometime today.

I had no hangover, but it did not take me long to realize I had something else going on:

A pain work me up, tapped upon my shoulder, and said,

“Guess what? Asshole? You’re fucked; We have you now.”

A pain in my abdomen which caught my undivided attention straight – away.

And it wasn’t playin’.

It was not nothing nice,

I have never experienced pain such as this.


I tried to self-medicate with Jim Beam.

Tried that for a couple of hours.

No dice.

This was some serious vile shit.

And not nothin’ nice.

My undying (no pun), thought was that my appendix had burst. And I did not want to go out like Houdini.

(Google Him).

Finally gave up and dialed 911.

“Nine-One-One, what is your emergency?”

“I have ‘Houdini.’”

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“I think my appendix has burst. And oh, as an added bonus, probably at this point, alcohol poisoning.”

“Where are you, Sir?

“In hell.”

“Sir, an address?”

“Magnuson Hotel, some room.”

“Your name, Sir?


 “Ok, I am dispatching EMT now. Stay put.”

(Really, ‘stay put?’ I cannot even walk, the pain is so fucking bad, on top of the half-fifth of self-medication I had administered.)

“Sure, I’ll stay put. Please tell the EMT not to take their time; I am dyin’ up in here.”

I could not have known at the time, but this was to be but the first of three and a half trips I would take to the Commerce ER.

Chapter Three Coming Soon. Look for it if you dare.

“Between the Lines of Photographs, I’ve Seen The Past; It isn’t Pleasing.”


Chapter One To Be Found Here

Part tree (Pecan) to be found here,

Happier Times For Kris and Rita:

God’s Favorite Mistake


“Lil Kim’s got the hydrogen bomb”
His news bitch announced in singsong
“He’ll mount it one day
“And launch it your way
“Then smartly fuck off to Hong Kong
So rong!”


There once was a boy name of Kim
Who decided to act on a whim
He launched a big bomb
In the direction of Guam
And that was the ending of him!


In a Loon we call Kim Jong Un
The World sees a silly buffoon
But he put up his Dukes
Oh Fuck me; They’re Nukes!
And The World is now singing new tunes!
(So soon?)

Bonus Track: ‘A Celestial North Korea’















God’s Wisdom

(Apologies to Ogden Nash)

God in His wisdom let people die
God in His wisdom made them all fry

The People, they cried
Why Dear God Why?

God in His wisdom
All part of my Plan
Don’t ask me again
I am that I am

God in His wisdom
Boo Hoo and Boo Hoo

The People they cried,
Dear God, Oh Dear God,
Even We True?

God in His wisdom, Yes
Even you
God in His wisdom made sure we all knew

That God with His wisdom,
Is an Asshole
Tried and True Blue

And Jesus wept
Boo… Hoo!