This Post is for Jim Rezba–Days/Months/Years/ Tears & Beers. Lots Of Jeers–Of Our Time Spent Together In Basra, Iraq–Becoming The Very Best Of Friends

Money Means Nothing To Me–

I’ve Been Rich and I’ve been Poor–

Rich is Better”–At Least That is What I’ve Been Told…

I Was Happiest When I Was Poor.

Smoke That Revelation.

I May Elaborate Later, or Not–

Most Likely Not–

Fore I am Worthless and Lazy.

And Just A Little Bit Crazy

***


I Have Found Me a Home – Jimmy Buffett

The Days Drift By…

They Don’t Have Names

***

Jimmy Buffett – I Have Found Me A Home

(And, Y’all Know I AM A SAILOR)

Cred For Vid Share:
bolofski35

https://www.youtube.com/@bolofski35

***

Street Cred For Vid: Parrothead Poet

I Have seen too much shit

Behind his back and often to his face we called Him ‘Jumbo’– He had an overweight problem, but he took it all in stride–he had a beautiful wife and two beautiful daughters… He did not care–he was good-of nature–

A Great, somewhat humble man–

He never knew how he sustained us.

And I was NOT The Man To Bravery Sustain Us–

With Such a Heady “Revelation”

***

I once tried to tell him–he just laughed at me

I Loved the People Of Iraq

Baghdad Bob!

Cred For Share: AP Archive

I posted already…. But WordPress–Never mind.

I’ll try to re-Create it when I am sober

Narrow window there.

Fuk Me! World!

Press Bears NO ‘Symphony‘ For Music

No Honesty

No Honesty

No Honesty

“All I want.. Is someone to believe”

In Honesty

I Don’t Want Some Pretty Face To Tell Me Pretty lies;

All I want is

‘Honesty

I Think I ‘Deserve That–

Have Earn’d That–

Deserve That…

“When I’m Deep Inside of me;

Don’t Be Too Concern’d; I Won’t Ask For Nothin’

When I’m Gone”

When You Look For Truth-fullness…

You Just Might Just as Well Be BLIND”

I Can Find ‘Security Until The Bitter End. NOT What I Want! I WANT

HONESTY!

That’s All!

Street Cred: Billy Joel

Duh to The Fukkin’ Duh!

Thought I’d re-post this for all my Brit Friends Out There: “Now I know why London Bridge Fell Down”

This Be My Best Friend Forever

When I was working in Basra, my gig allowed two weeks R&R every two months or so. Sounds like a deal, eh? Well, yes it was. Be aware however, we worked seven days a week, ten hours a day. NO days off. So do the math; we earned it. And of course we were getting shelled and rocketed and mortared regularly.

Anyhow, I had a stateside girlfriend back then. Actually more friend than girl. Rather platonic relationship, but we were ‘Buds’ and I loved her dearly. (Still do) And we went way back.

It was agreed by us both, that once I went to Iraq, we would spend our (my) R&R’s together. I flew her to Barcelona, Athens, Italy, and finally London. (She made all the arrangements. All I had to do was show up) Too easy for me.

Mid 2006 we met in London. I was ‘cacked out’ (Lenny Bruce vernacular). Worn out. Plumb tuckered. Tired. Damn tired. Spent.

R&R London

She was, of course not. Now mind you, this woman had been all over Europe already. London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Berlin, Athens… well, she was rich. Catch my drift? I had seen quite a lot of Europe my own damn self. Did not hold much magic for me.

All I really wanted was some ‘down time.’

Bless her heart (and this speaks volumes of our great friendship), she let me do what I wanted; which basically meant I could sit in the flat she had arranged for us in downtown London and drink Beefeater while watching movies and smoking Marlboro’s and ranting at the current state of affairs in Iraq.

After a few days, she did manage to get me out of the flat for a walk-about. We went to Buckingham Palace (one day shot there)

We went to the British Museum; saw the Rosetta stone. Another day gone.

“Lance that’s the Rosetta Stone.”

“Yep, that’s cool. What’s it say?”

“It says, ‘Shut up Lance’”

Had some fish ‘n’ chips (I preferred Long John Silvers, but that is just what an asshole I am)

Rode the Tube. (I prefer Le Metro in Paris, but what the hell)

And various other exhausting  exhilarating  excursions.

“About three days before we were to part: me back to The Sandbox; she back to Texas, she asked me, “Lance, isn’t there any place in London you would like to see?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. I wanna go down to Marble Arch Station.”

“Whaaat?” she said.

“Yeah. Marble Arch Station.”

West End of London, England, United Kingdom

“That is a Tube Station.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why on Earth…”

“Because it belongs to Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. And Texas.”

(Best Original Audio from ¡Viva Terlingua!)

London Homesick Blues

She acquiesced and off we went. Got there and I had a salutary beer to J.J. Walker and Gary P. Nunn. Then I was happy and pronounced my R&R a successful bit of Rest and Relaxation.

Best Video From “Lost Gonzo Band (with Gary P. Nunn)”

 

“Well I decided that

I’d get my cowboy hat

And go down to Marble Arch Station…”

Went back to the flat and had a few gin and tonics and lived happily ever after.

“R&R” means that: Rest and Relax and do whatever the hell you want. London could wait… until I came back the next time.

Good God!

I MISS Texas!

“Never Run ‘Tell’ That!” Unless Of Course… “You Can’t Take The Hot Lead Enema.”–Lenny Bruce Post: Profanity Warning!

Please Listen to the Lenny Bit (it is very short)

If You don’t, my Post Just Falls All Apart Right There.

(And I know you do NOT want THAT on Your Conscience)

“Hot Lead Enema”

***

My British Girlfriend is a poker-player.

A real good poker-player.

A really very good poker player.

I am NOT a really very good poker-player.

Just Call Me An “Under-Achiever-Poker-Player”

Basra, Iraq 2006

Craps? Blackjack? Roulette?

Yeah. I shine there.

But poker?

Forget it.

Below, you will discover why.

Here is a transcribed recent not recent conversation, recently not recently transcribed:

“Lance, you’ve been drinking.”

“No I haven’t”

“Yes you have.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because of your ‘tells.’”

“My what?”

“Your ‘tells’.”

“Oh you mean the William’s Brothers?”

“No! I mean your ‘tells’.”

“Huh?”

“You telegraph your state.”

“Texas?”

“No Idiot. You ‘tell’-e-graph your condition.”

“I don’t speak Morse Code.”

*exasperated look*

“Lance, I can ‘tell’ when you’ve been drinking from your ‘tells’”

“Tell me my ‘tells’ so that I may amend them.”

“No fucking way I am telling you your ‘tells’”

“Why not?”

“You just don’t get it do you?”

“Do tell…”

“Fuck you!”

“Okay.”

***

The dog can ‘tell’ too. But he just don’t give-a-shit.

“Bring me a fuckin’ soup bone and I won’t tell.”

***

I threw in the videos below just because I love them.

(They add absolutely nothing germane to the story)

“Ahso Meta-Mook!”

Is this a word? ‘Meta-Mook’?

Kevin Spacey Version

***

The ‘King of Cool’ Version:

I guess that line forms To the right Babe.

The Basra BugMan Re-Visited. (With My Sincere Apologies To The Chordettes) And, Yet Once Again, Lame-Ass WordPress Will NOT Allow Me To Properly EDIT This! Grrrrr!

My MAN: Baghdad Bob!”

Basrah Bug Man

I Am Become Death: Destroyer of Tiny Worlds.

Bugs were a huge problem for us in Basra, Iraq. There were big bugs, small bugs, flying bugs, crawling bugs, creeping bugs, biting bugs, fighting bugs, suicide bomber bugs, and worst of all: No-See’um bugs. (I love bugs: please read Queendom )

Then every day at precisely 1600hrs,

BUGMAN!

“Here I come to savvve the day!!!”

Mister Bugman

Sung to the tune ‘Mister Sandman”

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

bug, bug, bug, bug, bug

bug, bug, bug, bug, bug

bug, bug, bug, bug, bug

Mr. Bugman, save us from screams

(bug, bug, bug, bug, bug)

Kill all those bugs that we’ve ever seen

Credit: The Chordettes.

 
 

(bug, bug, bug, bug, bug)

Give them a tank of poison and smoker

(bug, bug, bug, bug, bug)

Then tell them their buggy nights are over

Bugman, Now I’m so alone

Don’t have no bugs to crawl in my home

Please turn off your smoky beam

Mr. Bugman, bring us a scream

bug, bug, bug, bug, bug

Mr. Bugman, don’t save us from screams

Bring back those bugs, the cutest we’ve seen

Give them the word that we’ll not roll over

Then tell them their lonesome nights are over

bug, bug, bug, bug, bug

Mr. Bugman bring back our screams

(Yes)

Give them six eyes with a come-hither green

Give them six legs like bugs Versace

And lots of wavy hairs like Liber-auntsy

Mr Bugman, someone to scold

(Someone to scold)

Would be so peachy before we’re too old

So please turn off your poison beam

Mr Bugman, bring us, please, please, please

Mr bugman, bring us our screams

bug, bug, bug, bug, bug…

‘Cause now we miss the bugs an’ we’re bored…

Since I Still Be Stymied & Stuck & Hopelessly Remain/Retained/Detained in “Bug” Mode: “The Basra Bugman Revisited” I Wish. Because I Miss His Daily Perambulations.

Ed. Note: I Write As I Wish:

Adverbs, Pronouns, Adjectives, Verbs… Syntax

I Use ’em as I see fit

Proper Grammar Means Nada, Rien, Nothing to Me

****

And Forever Remember Kids:

Always Look Under Yer Bed B4 Retiring for The Night.

You’ll Sleep Better.

Trust Me On This:

I Am Smart

And Wise to The Ways of the Bug-World

I am re-posting this because I am still working on the Continuation of the ‘Sinai Field Mission Chronicles‘.

(Great Excuse, eh?) Anyway, some of you ‘newbies’ may not have had the wonderful ‘opportunity’ to have swerved into it. Therefore it is with great humility that I present it once again for your perusal.

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

Bugs were a huge problem for us in Basra.

There were big bugs, small bugs, flying bugs, crawling bugs, creeping bugs, creepy bugs, sleepy bugs, scary bugs, poisonous bugs,  biting bugs, fighting bugs, suicide bomber bugs, and worst of all: No-See’um bugs. (Please don’t get me wrong: I love bugs:  Queendom  and Spiders)

But every day at precisely 1600hrs:

BUGMAN!

Basrah Bug Man

The BUGMAN Commeth: Bugs, watch yer ass.

We all worked in trailers, which passed for ‘Offices’ in Basra and we had A/C Window Units which would suck in the Bugman’s Offerings with vengeance. So everyday, at around 1600hrs, we kept collective ears tuned for the sound of Bugman and his Blower, lest we fail to turn off the A/C’s and become victim to BUGMAN.

The parlance always went like this: The one with the best hearing would announce in a low nonchalant voice: 

‘The Bugman.” (almost a whisper, but we were all tuned in to those two words–we certainly did not want to be premature, because of the oppressive heat)

Then scramble to shut down all the A/C units ahead of relentless Bugman (no less than twelve window units), and life would go on, while we sat sweating (Yes, the heat was brutal, but so were the bugs).

“Here I come to savvve the day!!!”

Continue reading

I Love MY TEXAS! Thought I’d re-post this for all my Brit Friends Out There: “Now I know why London Bridge Fell Down”

When I was working in Basra, my gig allowed two weeks R&R every two months or so. Sounds like a deal, eh? Well, yes it was. Be aware however, we worked seven days a week, ten hours a day. NO days off. So do the math; we earned it. And of course we were getting shelled and rocketed and mortared regularly.

Anyhow, I had a stateside girlfriend back then. Actually more friend than girl. Rather platonic relationship, but we were ‘Buds’ and I loved her dearly. (Still do) And we went way back.

It was agreed by us both, that once I went to Iraq, we would spend our (my) R&R’s together. I flew her to Barcelona, Athens, Italy, and finally London. (She made all the arrangements. All I had to do was show up) Too easy for me.

Mid 2006 we met in London. I was ‘cacked out’ (Lenny Bruce vernacular). Worn out. Plumb tuckered. Tired. Damn tired. Spent.

R&R London

She was, of course not. Now mind you, this woman had been all over Europe already. London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Berlin, Athens… well, she was rich. Catch my drift? I had seen quite a lot of Europe my own damn self. Did not hold much magic for me.

All I really wanted was some ‘down time.’

Bless her heart (and this speaks volumes of our great friendship), she let me do what I wanted; which basically meant I could sit in the flat she had arranged for us in downtown London and drink Beefeater while watching movies and smoking Marlboro’s and ranting at the current state of affairs in Iraq.

After a few days, she did manage to get me out of the flat for a walk-about. We went to Buckingham Palace (one day shot there)

We went to the British Museum; saw the Rosetta stone. Another day gone.

“Lance that’s the Rosetta Stone.”

“Yep, that’s cool. What’s it say?”

“It says, ‘Shut up Lance’”

Had some fish ‘n’ chips (I preferred Long John Silvers, but that is just what an asshole I am)

Rode the Tube. (I prefer Le Metro in Paris, but what the hell)

And various other exhausting  exhilarating  excursions.

“About three days before we were to part: me back to The Sandbox; she back to Texas, she asked me, “Lance, isn’t there any place in London you would like to see?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. I wanna go down to Marble Arch Station.”

“Whaaat?” she said.

“Yeah. Marble Arch Station.”

West End of London, England, United Kingdom

“That is a Tube Station.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why on Earth…”

“Because it belongs to Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. And Texas.”

(Best Original Audio from ¡Viva Terlingua!)

London Homesick Blues

She acquiesced and off we went. Got there and I had a salutary beer to J.J. Walker and Gary P. Nunn. Then I was happy and pronounced my R&R a successful bit of Rest and Relaxation.

Best Video From “Lost Gonzo Band (with Gary P. Nunn)”

“Well I decided that

I’d get my cowboy hat

And go down to Marble Arch Station…”

Went back to the flat and had a few gin and tonics and lived happily ever after.

“R&R” means that: Rest and Relax and do whatever the hell you want. London could wait… until I came back the next time.

Good God!

I MISS Texas!