Pap, Huk, Peanut, Delirium Tremens, and Lance or “I Feel Like Hank Williams Tonight”

“Lately I been Thinkin’,

I Just Might Quit Drinkin’.

Now I don’t Know–All–In–All”

I Just May Stay Home

Get Drunk All Alone–

Pound A Few Holes In The Wall

Cred: Jerry-Jeff–No Shit Sherlock

I’m Not Really An asshole–I Just Play One On The Internet.

Basically I Am A Good & Decent Man–

I’d Give You the Shirt Off My Back

If You Were In-Need

***********

 

I post a lot of shit. I post a lot of off the wall shit. If you have read my ‘By Way of Introduction’ page you will know this.

But, OK,  most of you have not (read that).

Therefore, I will be brief here (“More matter and less art,” Yeah yeah yeah…)

More matter below:

And here is some ref: Peanut, stuff, more stuff, and even more stuff.

I stole this from Sam Clemens. I hope you like it a lot. (I do)

I don’t know how long I was asleep, but all of a sudden there was an awful scream and I was up. There was pap looking wild, and skipping around every which way and yelling about snakes.

He said they was crawling up his legs; and then he would give a jump and scream, and say one had bit him on the cheek–but I couldn’t see no snakes.

He started and run round and round the cabin, hollering “Take him off! take him off! he’s biting me on the neck!” I never see a man look so wild in the eyes.

Pretty soon he was all fagged out, and fell down panting; then he rolled over and over wonderful fast, kicking things every which way, and striking and grabbing at the air with his hands, and screaming and saying there was devils a-hold of him.

He wore out by and by, and laid still a while, moaning. Then he laid stiller, and didn’t make a sound. I could hear the owls and the wolves away off in the woods, and it seemed terrible still. He was laying over by the corner. By and by he raised up part way and listened, with his head to one side. He says, very low:

“Tramp–tramp–tramp; that’s the dead; tramp–tramp–tramp; they’re coming after me; but I won’t go. Oh, they’re here! don’t touch me –don’t! hands off–they’re cold; let go. Oh, let a poor devil alone!”

Then he went down on all fours and crawled off, begging them to let him alone, and he rolled himself up in his blanket and wallowed in under the old pine table, still a-begging; and then he went to crying. I could hear him through the blanket.

By and by he rolled out and jumped up on his feet looking wild, and he see me and went for me. He chased me round and round the place with a clasp-knife, calling me the Angel of Death, and saying he would kill me, and then I couldn’t come for him no more.

I begged, and told him I was only Huck; but he laughed SUCH a screechy laugh, and roared and cussed, and kept on chasing me up.

Once when I turned short and dodged under his arm he made a grab and got me by the jacket between my shoulders, and I thought I was gone; but I slid out of the jacket quick as lightning, and saved myself.

Pretty soon he was all tired out, and dropped down with his back against the door, and said he would rest a minute and then kill me. He put his knife under him, and said he would sleep and get strong, and then he would see who was who.

So he dozed off pretty soon. By and by I got the old split-bottom chair and clumb up as easy as I could, not to make any noise, and got down the gun.

I slipped the ramrod down it to make sure it was loaded, then I laid it across the turnip barrel, pointing towards pap, and set down behind it to wait for him to stir. And how slow and still the time did drag along.

Shoot at me you son of a bitch!

“Lately I been thinkin’, I just might quit drinkin’… now I don’t know, all in all…”

Yep!

Grace!

Love You!

Forget It: I Need To Die Soon–I tried to make a ‘SHORT LIST’ of all the Women I Love, Respect, and Admire (& Desire!) Such Folly! Who Was I Kidding?! This ‘List’ Just goes on and on and on and on….

Below is just a ‘Short’ Collection of a Few of My Favorite ‘Things

My Humble Tribute to All The Girls

******

I Really Do LOVE You Stevie! You’re the Best of All the Rest.

I Adore You Stevie Nicks! (In Spite of my Recent (playful) Bashings of you)


“Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m getting older too
Oh! I’m getting older too”

*****

Let’s Get On With it. Shall we?

“I Regret Nothing”

—Edith

“They put in a Nickle and they want a Dollar Song.”

Beautiful, Beautiful Joni

“When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go…”

Sexy Grace

I tried to make a ‘short’ list of all the women whom I love and admire:

“Yeah! Good Luck With That!”

(The ‘Short’ Part)

  1. Joni
  2. Linda
  3. Barbra
  4. Catherine
  5. Sheryl
  6. Carly
  7. Cher
  8. Ex-wives (all four)
  9. Melanie
  10. Janis
  11. Mom
  12. Christine
  13. Grace
  14. Julie
  15. Madonna
  16. Lanie
  17. Edith
  18. K.D.
  19. Jill
  20. Dolly
  21. Holly
  22. Tanya (Native Texan!)
  23. Judy
  24. Liza (With a ‘Z’ “Not ‘Lisa’ With an ‘S'”)
  25. Dorothy
  26. Camila
  27. Shakira
  28. Stevie (Honorable Mention)
  29. And of Course, My “Lisa With an S” My Third Wife:

Then I ran out of virtual ink

Stray Tuned!

I shall expand!

But I’m in over my head!

Most people who write about ‘Fleetwood Mac’ Write about Stevie.

I write about Christine.

“Christine has such a rich, deep down dark chocolate voice . I love her”

–Lance Marcom, Circa 2021

(Stevie is such a condescending little bitch during this video—Watch it closely. Then you will see what I see)

Song-Bird! No Shit!

Cher! She’s All There:
The Whole Perfection Package.

Carly!

Bat-Shit Crazy & Wild Tanya.
I Love Her Like Cash Money!

Bella Madonna!

Babs!

Joni!!

Grace!

I have not the words to describe how I love this woman.

Catherine! Zeta-Jones!

Love YOU Girl! Lanie!

Linda Baby!

K.D. Yes!

Jill Clayburgh!

First time I saw The movie (Silver Streak) at the Grove Theatre, I thought Jill Clayburgh one of the Most Beautiful and Charming Women in the Entire World.
(And I still Do)

Dolly, A Natural, National Charmer Treasure:

Holly!

“Judy Judy JUDY!”

(SORRY, Cary Grant, And Rock Hudson)

********

Liza!

Dorothy: Epitome of The Perfect American Woman

Vid Creation Cred: Wat Bradford

Camila Darling!

Sexy Shakira!

*****

And This Beat Goes On…

********

I ‘Construct’ My Posts to Entertain.

No other hidden desire resides within me.

If you have come this far, I hope you enjoyed this post at least half as much as I enjoyed constructing it.

‘Twas a “Labour of Love

Why Do I Torture Me With Old Memories? “Henry The “Just A Dog, Dog”–And Now His Watch Has Ended” (Drinkin’ Will Kill You Slow; Delirium Tremens (DTs) Will Kill Ya Quick.)

 

He was just a dog.

But he had a vocabulary!

He was just a dog

He understood… words!

He was just a dog

He could not speak the words, but he heard the words and he knew the words. He responded to the words. He taught me some ‘new’ words. (Sorry; they do not translate well here, but suffice to say…)

He was just a dog

He knew lots of words. More than some people, I’d venture. And his understanding was more than some people I will not venture to mention.

He was just a dog

He did not do so many ‘doggy’ things. He did ‘other’ things. He never got bogged down with mundane dog things. He refused dog boundaries. He knew stuff.

He was just a dog

Actually, he was a benevolent dictator; is what he was  

He was just a dog

Then how did he effortlessly enslave two ‘humans’ for so many years? Can ‘just a dog’ do that?

He was just a dog

No. He was a ‘playah’, always a ‘contender’, always a subtle ‘man’ipulator. He had it goin’ on. 

He was just a dog

He had a ‘King’s’ name…

Yet, he was still just a dog

He was ‘every-man’. Sometimes he was just a cat. Sometimes he was just a clown. Sometimes he was just a possum. Sometimes he was just a spider (waiting for something to drop from the Magic Treat Cupboard…) Sometimes he was just my pet raccoon. Sometimes he was just Freud. Sometimes he was just Dear Abby. Sometimes he was just my ‘sponsor’. And every once in a while, yes he was just a dog.

The best dog ever.

A dog for all seasons–no rhymes, no reasons–minimal lesions .

And now he’s gone.

And my heart is broken.

But Lance! He-was-just-a-dog!

Not to me. A bent wheel cannot be mended.

Kipling said it best:

THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find – it’s your own affair, –
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!),
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone – wherever it goes – for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear!

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent,
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve;
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long –
So why in – Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Linda: “Heart Like a Wheel”

“He spoke in tears of fifteen years
How his dog and him
They travelled about
His dog up and died
He up and died
After twenty years he still grieves”

—JJ Walker & Mister Bojangles

I still grieve.

“I’m gonna blow this damn candle out. I don’t want nobody coming over to my table. I got nothing to talk to anybody about.” –Joni

I am so sick of people.

(Present company excluded)

I got nothing left to say

Screw it!

Maybe tomorrow

Stand by

But don’t hold your bated breath

****

Beautiful Joni

The Last Time I Saw Richard

“The last time I saw Richard was Detroit in 68
And he told me, “All romantics meet the same fate Some day, cynical and drunk and boring
Someone in some dark cafe”

******

My Head Hurts, My Feet Stink and I don’t Love Jesus – Jimmy Buffett

“If I don’t die by Thursday I’ll be roarin’ Friday night”

Story of My Life

That Old Man and The Sea

He’s Me!

Sometimes, Oft Times, I Feel His Presence. Right Behind Me And I Steal A Glance Over My Shoulder & Catch Him Taking His Half Of Our Bed From The Middle, As Was Always His Wont.

If He Should’ve Died Five Years Ago, That would Have Been Five Less Years I Spent with Helen-The Saint Jude Research Scientist From Cambridge, England, She Actually Grew Up There. Why Am I always Drawn to Te Super-Duper Intelligent Ones?

I have Spent Half My Lif Married to. or Living with Very Brilliant Women. Yet…

The Happiest Times, The Best Times. Were The Times I had With Rhonda, My Second: A half illiterate Okie-From-Muskogee.She Truly Loved me and was Good to and for me

My Whole Life Has been One Horrible Mistake

Followed Hard And fast by yet Another.

Yet People are Always telling me How Fucking Brilliant I am.

I ‘m sorry; I just

don’t See it.

My Whole Life Has Been A Failure

Well… It’s A Bloody Mary In-Mournin’

But, I’m all Outta Vodka.

And I have Not Seen A Celery Stick, Or A Bottle of

Tomato JuiceNewton in ‘Bout Fifteen Dog-Years.

Lord Only Knows

Last Time Some

Ew Iberia, Louisiann’er Tobasco Touched This Cowboy’s Lips

I Think

Yeah! I Do ‘Think

From-Time-to-Lime

I “Tink’ Last Tomato I Witnessed Was In Ammam, Jordan,

But Coulda Been Cairo

Not Sure

I’ve Got A Long List Of Real Good Reasons

**********

OK! Shite! I am Growin’ REAL Contrite And Need To Lighten This Up A Mite

Ever Try To Put A Mite Onna Bathroom Scale?)

No? Well, I have.

Little Bastards Won’t Sit Still

********

Meanwhile, Back At The Pity-Party Ranch….

And I Really Would Love to Have Those Years Back, But Not At the Expense of Losing My/Her Dog. The Price is Too High. I Would Never Buy. He was The Super-Glue That Held Our Very Un-Tenable ‘Relationship’ Together

So, At Such Hallucinations, Deluding Times, I Am Very Careful When Backing My Chair Away From My Computer, So As Not To Disturb Him. But Then I Painfully Recall That His Watch Ended Two Years Ago. And I Am Forced To Bear That grief All Over Again, 

An’ Let Me Tell You My good Friends, I Ain’t Strong Enough To Keep Re-Living These Painful Emotions. I’m Not Over That Yet. Beginning To Think I Never Shall Be.

He was just a dog.

But he had a vocabulary!

He was just a dog

He understood… words!

He was just a dog

He could not speak the words, but he heard the words and he knew the words. He responded to the words. He taught me some ‘new’ words. (Sorry; they do not translate well here, but suffice to say…)

He was just a dog

He knew lots of words. More than some people, I’d venture. And his understanding was more than some people I will not venture to mention.

He was just a dog

He did not do so many ‘doggy’ things. He did ‘other’ things. He never got bogged down with mundane dog things. He refused dog boundaries. He knew stuff.

He was just a dog

Actually, he was a benevolent dictator; is what he was  

He was just a dog

Then how did he effortlessly enslave two ‘humans’ for so many years? Can ‘just a dog’ do that?

He was just a dog

No. He was a ‘playah’, always a ‘contender’, always a subtle ‘man’ipulator. He had it goin’ on. 

He was just a dog

He had a ‘King’s’ name…

Yet, he was still just a dog

He was ‘every-man’. Sometimes he was just a cat. Sometimes he was just a clown. Sometimes he was just a possum. Sometimes he was just a spider (waiting for something to drop from the Magic Treat Cupboard…) Sometimes he was just my pet raccoon. Sometimes he was just Freud. Sometimes he was just Dear Abby. Sometimes he was just my ‘sponsor’. And every once in a while, yes he was just a dog.

The best dog ever.

A dog for all seasons–no rhymes, no reasons–minimal lesions .

And now he’s gone.

And my heart is broken.

But Lance! He-was-just-a-dog!

Not to me. A bent wheel cannot be mended.

Kipling said it best:

THERE is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find – it’s your own affair, –
But … you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!),
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone – wherever it goes – for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear!

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent,
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve;
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long –
So why in – Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

 

“He spoke in tears of fifteen years
How his dog and him
They travelled about
His dog up and died
He up and died
After twenty years he still grieves”

—JJ Walker & Mister Bojangles

I still grieve.

He spoke with tears of fifteen years how his dog and him
Traveled about
The dog up and died
He up and died
After twenty years he still grieves

Why die You die On Me Henry?

Why?

Why??

Because There Is No God

That’s Why

May Be Worth A Re-Look-See. Then Again, Maybe Not–“What did YOU do in The War Daddy? Daddy?? DADDY!?? Are You My Daddy?” “Dunno Girl. You from Olongapo City, PI? Dubai? Or Sydney Aussie? Or Mombasa? Or Hong Kong or Amman, or Tel Aviv, or Cairo? or Waco? Please tell me Y’all ain’t from Waco! That Would Ruin my day!…. Catch My Drift? Oh Never Mind! What’s your DNA say? If I broke it, I’ll buy it”

*********

Never mind. I Suppose It’s Possible. Now Be A Dear And Buy Your Ole’ “Daddy” A Beer… Dear? Dear? Where Ya goin’ Dear?–Come Back Here! I didn’t get my beer!” (Cannot Properly EDIT This! Damn You to Hell WordPress!–The Un-Pleasant Parts)

It’s Fittin’

Or it isn’t.

‘Fittin’’

No! It WAS Fittin’!

Very Much So!

So Well-Deserved!

Bravo to You Hattie!

 

In my mind, I think I have written some incredibly good shit for this here blog, (approaching my one-year anniversary) but then again, who can account for taste?

Certainly not me.

Anyway…

I had some interesting emails of late:

Mostly of the “Jeeze! Yer not dead… I hope.” Strain. (vernacular??)

“No Virginia, I am not dead.”(And No: There ain’t no Santa)

Yet.

Nope. Not yet. (dead: not Santa—try to stay with me here Friends…)

‘So sorry…’

“Maybe next time.” Or as some of my ‘friends’ might say: “Next Year in Jerusalem.”

(But then, that is some other kind of different post, ain’t it?)

I am tired, so I will end this now.

Just wanted to post ‘something’ so that y’all would realize… I am still alive in here.

Peace,

Lance

P.S. Now, that right there is what some might call a virulent (?), brilliant stream of ‘conscientiousness’. Some might, in fact.

Personally, I call ‘bullshit.’ But that is just me.

Cheers Y’all,

Lance

And PPS:

I am gonna volunteer to go to Liberia.

Just to help.

If y’all think I’m jokin’, well then; you don’t know me very well, do you?

Hell! All who know me, know I will risk anything for money! Because ‘money’ is all I care about.”

(And if y’all believe that, well then I am not… aiming… at ‘My Audience’)

And I do have a bridge to sell. (cheap!)

–Lance

Just for fun:

Bob Dylan – George Floyd – RIP

“A Deputy Sheriff approached them in a manner rather rude…”

Bad Idea Officer!

Take Away:

Don’t Fuck With Pretty-Boy Floyd

&

Do NOT

Fuck With Lance

He Looks Nice

But He Bites

Just Some

‘Friendly’

Advice:

Be Nice

Read & Heed

“I Ain’t Never Seen An Outlaw Drive A Family From Their Home”

“A Deputy Sheriff approached them in a manner rather rude…”