Step-Back Saturday! A Re-Post! “Zen and the Art of Commentary Maintenance”

(With Apologies to Robert M. Pirsig)

Likes and Loves and Laughing Faces
Thumbs up Thumbs up
We’re off to the races!

A cheap thrill sensation
Brings joy and elation
With so much emoji
We’ll never be lonely

But cheap thrills ain’t lasting
Only forecasting
A sugary crash
Just a quick flash

It’s comments we want
No matter the font
Comments are golden
They fling the door open

Provide inspiration
Never inflation
True comments auspicious
And very propitious

Writers need feedback
Not smiley Prozac
If compelled to emoji
Don’t do that only

Take some small time
Drop a thin dime
Comment away
Make someone’s day

*****

(Yeah, I actually wrote that shit above)

Back in the day when I used to be a ‘writer’.

Years and Beers & Tears ago…

I’m off to the Rodeo!

Catch Y’all On The Flip Flop!

Rodeo Song, by Garry Lee and the Showdown

Cred for Vid Share: Manosphere Environment


https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCFlDbTySKx1uRx4R50w-9eA

You’ve Got to Give a Little. Kindness is the Best Cure for all ills.

(Of course Glen was full of shit, (ask Tanya Tucker) but I do love this song.)

***

To get a little.

Give a little of yer sef…

Your reward??

Heaven.

Blogging philosophy:

Wonderful World of Worthy Writers!

“Visit. Comment. (sincerely comment) Read. Read. Read. And Then Read some more.”

Then comment some more.

Rinse and repeat.

Then the folks will come.

Works ever’ time.

And… it’s good for the soul.

Good for Our Community of Souls, some lost, some found, and all manner of in between, but there are no more appreciative for time spent than writers / bloggers. 

So, therefore, Give a Little of Yourself to your lost and found, and searching fellow souls.

The Divine Miss ‘M’

(We love her)

Thank You for your visit and for your time.

Zen and the Art of Commentary Maintenance

(With Apologies to Robert M. Pirsig)

Likes and Loves and Laughing Faces
Thumbs up Thumbs up
We’re off to the races!

A cheap thrill sensation
Brings joy and elation
With so much emoji
We’ll never be lonely

But cheap thrills ain’t lasting
Only forecasting
A sugary crash
Just a quick flash

It’s comments we want
No matter the font
Comments are golden
They fling the door open

Provide inspiration
Never inflation
True comments auspicious
And very propitious

Writers need feedback
Not smiley Prozac
If compelled to emoji
Don’t do that only

Take some small time
Drop a thin dime
Comment away
Make someone’s day

*****

(Yeah, I actually wrote that shit above)

Back in the day when I used to be a ‘writer’.

Years and Beers & Tears ago…

SHITTY PITY PARTY

Lance walks into his ‘physic’ therapist’s office and slumps down into a chair…

“Hello” too effusive psychotherapist says. “And how are WE today?”
“Shitty,” I answer.
“Oh no!!” he says. “We can never be ‘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 De-gree?”
“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.”

And then I realized I HAD gotten one benefit from this Court-Mandated Counseling: “Write Some Better Shit.”

I Just Want To Meet Jackie

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, er, “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.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-qEmmpGYvA Video Credit: Erik Gloor