Lance walks into his ‘physic’ therapist’s office and slumps down…
“Hello” too effusive psychotherapist says. “And how are WE today?” “Shitty,” I answer.
“Oh no!!” he says. “We can never feel ‘shitty’, as you say. WE are always ‘happy’.”
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Mister Marcom. WE do not talk this Way.”
“Fuck you Doc, I talk this way AND I am paying you so I CAN talk this way.”
“OK, why then are you “shitty” as you call it?”
Leaning back… wondering how long this court – ordered bullshit must go on, I decide to hit him with it:
“I am shitty ‘cause I have written some good shit on my blog and no one is reading it.”
“Please do go on.”
“Well… there is that one about Southpark”
“You mean J.R.’s ranch?”
“Do you have a degree, Doc?”
“Of course, right over there on the wall, see it?”
“What’s it in, your degree?”
“Phycology.”
“Yeah, guess that makes some sense; knew it wasn’t in Pop Culture, Pops.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Never mind.”
“Let us get back to your problem and away from my credentials, shall we? No one reads your ‘shit’, but why?”
“‘t-l-d-r’ in the vernacular.”
“Tee el dee r’? I’m afraid I do not understand your meaning here.”
“’Too Long; Didn’t Read’ Asshole.”
“Mister Marcom, I must implore you not to continue to abuse me with such language; I am merely attempting to help you here. Why is it too long? Do you hate your mother?”
“Well, it took days and days to write… And who ARE you? Do you even know what it is ‘to write’?”
“Let us focus on ‘your problem.’ shall we?”
“Doc, let us focus on yours: I don’t want to be here and THAT is YOUR problem. I just want folks to read my shit.”
“I cannot help you there, Son. Perhaps though if I may proffer a suggestion?”
“Sure. Fire away.”
“Write some better ‘shit’, as you call it.”
The point of this post, if there is one, is that I have applied for no less than ten jobs in Saudi Arab today.
Some nine or so in various other shit holes, err, developing countries, just looking for my next war zone to make me famous, not unlike Hemmingway. At this point in life, I must admit: prolly ain’t gonna happen. All I can hope for is some good monies and some decent health insurance (and maybe some ESOP), but Hell! At this point, I’ll work for room and board…but never bored.
Me? Bored? Never.
Again, when do I get to get outraged? Ppl in Ferguson get to be outraged. I share their outrage, but I just want a small piece of that pie. I have more than one decade experience working in dangerous desolate places, yet, I find it so very difficult to find a job in same. I am feeling some outrage here! I should be entitled. I did my time. Hell! I served my country.
To quote some not so famous line from the movie, “The Right Stuff,” “Where is my parade with Jackie? I wanna meet Jackie. They owe me!” I want to meet Jackie. Or at the very least I want a window… into my golden years. End of Rant…
-Lance
And of course, as y’all know, this was all ‘tongue-in-cheek’
“Hook ’em Horns!”
(That’s ‘Texan’ for ‘Suck it up and move that ball on down the field.’ Boys.)
Or, even better, to quote Dan Jenkins: “Y’all knew it was gonna be semi-tough, eh?”
And this “trailer” is semi-tough to watch, but it was as advertised: semi tough, as we were growing up in The Seventies.
And of course, as usual, this last link is the important one.
For reasons I’d rather not disclose, but numero one’oh is detailed below:
Anyway, I grew weary of reading about how much Jesus loves me, how I need to say ‘amen’ if I agree all the time. (They never tell ya what exactly to say when you do NOT agree), et cetera, et al. So… I just say what I feel, which generally gets me into trouble.
So.. I said some evil things.
Have since apologized.
Been offered a promise of a promise back in Iraq (rhymes, don’t it?)
I will go there.
In’shall’allah
–Peace
(Lance)
The point of this post is thus:
I am back on FB; for whatever good that might mean. (or not mean)
-L
“Is one the moon, Dear Clown, tied to a string for me?”
(He tried, but he could not get it down)
And yes: I have been in – love with Joni Mitchell for neigh onto forty year here.
Oh! And I love Emmy Lou… Too!
And.. Frank Zappa, and Tom Waits, and, Carly Simon, AndLenny Bruce, and… I suppose my love comes cheap.
I love it when I get four ‘likes’ in four seconds, for four posts, all from the same person, which are each… at least.. posts of at least one thousand words long. (brevity ain’t my soul of wit)
I love this.
I wish. I wish… I wish… I wish I could read that fast.
Maybe that is why I failed in College? (I ‘mouthed’ my words… not really, but… )
