Et, Oui: ‘Je Suis laissez faire’ Avec’ Le Punctuation–Realty. Nor Can I Be ‘Bothered’ With Speilling Neither–For That Matter.
For You See… I Just Cannot Be ‘Bothered’ With Such Mundane, Lame, Details—
All I’m A-Sayin’…
(And yes, I know. All epiphanies are brief)
We all have our ‘About’ Pages. Who really ever reads them?(I do)
Here is mine, in case you may have missed it.
(And No! This is not some vain fantasy; just a clarification)
By Way of Introduction (UPDATED 11 July) Bugs Bunny
Hail Yes and Merrily Met!
My name is Lance Marcom and These Pages will be my Home for the foreseeable future. All are welcome here–welcome to compliment, deride, disparage, commiserate, cajole, rant, rave, fawn, frown–In short, all comments will be appreciated.
This VirginDe-flowered Slut Blog O’ Mine will contain Tall Tales, Short Tales, Middlin’ Tales, Major Tales, Minor Tales…
Tales of Amusement, Tales of Adventure, Tales of Larceny, Tales of Woes, Tales of Foes, Tales of Loves Won & Lost, Tales of Fortunes Achieved & Squandered, and much more as becomes my wont…
Tales From Texas, The Middle East, The Far East, The Near East, The Southeast, The South Coast, The South Pacific,The Left Coast, The Old World, and Perhaps Even Oklahoma…
But most importantly, I wish this to be a place for my guests to enjoy, for:
“No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en.”
(That’s Shakespeare, Y’all.)
Just For Fun Y’all, I am going to throw a new video (or quote, or some other surprise nonsense) up here everyday. Why? You may ask.
Because I think an ‘About Page’ should be ever-changing and dynamic, just as the Person it is purported to be “About” is ever-changing and dynamic.
Therefore, I upload some of my favorite stuff here. Daily (usually)
So… here goes for 11 July: Albuquerque (I had the opportunity to live there, once.) For, you see, my mom took a wrong turn at Moriarty… hence: young lives changed. For some forever.
Hope you enjoy.
And please do not forget to listen to what was my mantra while cooling my heels in Amman Jordan in late ’07
The Best of the Hitchslap
Bullshit Legal Stuff:
I Suppose it is Time (alas):
All This Shit Is Copyrighted. Please Respect that, for:
“Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; ’tis something, nothing; ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.” –Shakespeare
Someone once posited the idea that good posts always challenge the reader with a question (“This invites discourse”)
I cannot disagree, but by the time I finish my posts. I am all ‘discoursed out’.
That said, ’tis good advice. So, here is my million-dollar question:
“How many of y’all ever go to the ‘about’ page ‘ere you ‘follow’? I know I do. And for just one important reason: Sometimes we are misled and by being misled, we tend to ‘say’ things that are offensive to the blogger. Therefore, I like to get a ‘feel’ if you will, of the person’s blog I am about to comment all over. I do not aim for controversy, but I seem to land there more often than not.
Point is… know your audience and never purposely offend.
So Very Apropos For Today’s, Fuc*k’d-Up Times, Eh?
Jack Johnson – Upside Down
“There’s No Stompin’ Curiosity”
HahaHa & Ha!
Old Age is a Cruel Snake-Headed Methuselah–Medusa, ain’t she?
Turn youstraightaway into stone
I still love you Diana
We had three days steaming time to kill on our way to That–‘That Land Down Under’.
One night we were all sitting about, ‘cokin’ an’ smokin’ (shootin’-the-shit) in our little Gunner’s Mate ‘Office’ which was not much more than a walk-in closet with a couple of ‘make-shit’ chairs and a few Mae West life preservers for butt-comport composure.
There was GMG Me, GMG Rog, GMG Matt, GMG Eddie, and GMG Fish. Don’t know where was GMG-Geeky-Little-Maynard, nor ‘Bob-the-GMG-Body Builder.’ Probably Bob was in our ‘gym’. He pretty much lived in there.(Ed note: GMG–‘Gunner’s Mate Guns’–if you’ve read me, you’d already know this, btw.)
Speaking of things like gyms, weight-rooms, shitters, showers, berthing compartments, racks, …. Gunner’s Mate ‘offices’, et cetera:
On a U.S. naval war ship, space is always at a premium.
Ship’s Crew want a ‘weight room?’
Good luck. Find a machinery room with a little floor space available. Put your kit in there wherever you can find ‘space-to-no-avail-able’.
Want a quiet place to hang out? Good luck. Try the bilge compartment underneath the water line. (‘No thanks’)
Want peaceful, uninterrupted sleep? You should have joined the Air Force.
(I had some luck: I was the ship’s armorer—in charge of the… wait for it… the ship’s armory. All the small arms were stowed in there. You know, M14 rifles, grenade launchers, .50 cal Machine guns, riot shotguns, .45 cal pistols, grenades… Shit loads of ammo.)
And I WAS IN-CHARGE. Best Gig on The Fred!No Body, and I do mean nobodyfucked with me. I had the key to all the guns. And my rep preceded me: I was known to be a ‘dead-eye-shot’. One shot/one kill.
It was great!!As I did say, no oneever fucked with me. Fear is the greatest incentive for not fucking with a man.
A very ‘High – Security’ Space. I had one of the only two keys on board the Fred. My Department head, an 04 officer and third or fourth in command, had the only other one and he knew me from Nacogdoches back when I had my tropical fish store—yes! So he trusted me. I guess he thought we went ‘way back.’ We didn’t. But he was a good officer. And I usually don’t like officers, but I liked this one.Apparently wehad a ‘history’ together…. I guess…
Yeah no shit. Small world. Supposedly he had lived in Nacogdoches back when Janet and I did. We never really got to know each other. In fact, I do not recall him at all, but he remembered my store and I may have sold him a crud eater or two…
Anyway, the ship’s armory was my ‘go-to’ place when I did not wish to be talked-at, or just wanted a cat nap.
Back to our little Gunner’s Mate ‘Meeting’ in our ‘Office.’
The conversation had grown quiet.
Me, being me, I decided to have some fun with my shipmates. So I broached a subject to mess with their heads.
As I mentioned, time to kill.
“Why do they call it ‘Down Under’ and not ‘Up Yonder’?” I asked the group.
Rog, always quick on the draw said, “Because it is down-the-fuck-under.”
“Down under what?” I shot back.
“Down under the regular world.”
“According to who Rog? And define ‘regular’” I said.
“According to everyone. And regular is, you know fucking regular,” he said back.
“That makes no sense.” I said. Then continued, “You mean because of ‘up and down’, ‘north and south’, ‘east or west’ bullshit?”
“That’s what he means,” Matt said. “Everyone knows this.”
“Guys, you ever seen those photos from the Apollo missions? The ones of the Earth taken from the Moon?”
“Of course we all have,” Fish piped in.
“Well how do you know what is up and what is down?”
Rog said, “Because the North Pole is up and the South Pole is down. Easy enuff to see in the damn photos.”
“What if the astronauts had turned the camera a hundred and eighty degrees?”
“Why would they do that?” Eddie asked.
“Why not Eddie? You ever been in outer space?”
“Uh, nope, not lately.”
“Here’s the thing, why does the ‘northern’ hemisphere get to be ‘up’ and the ‘southern’ hemisphere have to be ‘down’? Seems real ‘hemisphere – centric’ to me.”
“Just because it makes sense,” Rog said.
“Bullshit,” I said. There is no up or down in space. It’s just all arbitrary from our perspective. Allow me to dial-you-in Rog: It’s because most of Western Civilization is in the ‘Northern’ hemisphere. That’s why.”
“You’re not making any sense,” Matt said.
“Think about it Matt. Who writes the history of war?”
“Uh… War? I thought we were talking about Australia.”
“Who writes the history of war?” I asked again.“Who draws the maps?”
Eddie gets a screwed-up look on his face, “The winning side!” He blurts out.
“Precisely, Young Eddie.”
Then Fish says. “No, it ain’t about that. It’s about the magnetic poles. They are north and south… ain’t they?”
“Fish, even if they were, which they ain’t, it doesn’t matter.”
“Because,” I continued. “Because ever’ fifty or sixty thousand years the magnetic poles do a one-eighty and swap places.”
Is It Happening Right Now?
The Poles of the Earth Are Tilting!
Recommended Only for Geeky Nerds
Original Content Cred For Vid: TheSimplySpace
“You’re Bullshit,” Rog says.
“Nope,” I say. “Look it up. And here is the funny part: Earth is wayyy overdue for the next swap. Could happen at any moment. What if the ‘swap’ just so happens to happen right before we pull into Sydney?”
Matt says, somewhat exasperated, “Ok, I give. What?”
“We’d then be heading to New ‘Up Yonder’ and not old ‘Down Under’. The maps would all have to be reprinted. And we’d have to turn around to stay on course for all those broads who want to ‘Rent-A-Sailor’ in Sydney, New Up Yonder.”
*Collective Groans All Around…*
In unison: “Fuck You Marcom!”
To be continued.
Author’s note: This post is in serious need of an enema edit.
I’ll administer it later.
Butt Busy now.(Some pun intended–caint lie)
And thanks for sailing this far…
Just call me Ismael.
P.S. I am not nearly as smart as I think I am.
Not even half as smart as I think I am.
Truth is, I am only about one-third as smart as I think I am.