Self-Pity Is A Horrible, Debilitating Affliction. So Is Loneliness.

But Nothing Will Kill Ya More

Painfully & Mercilessly

Than The DT’s.

I Can

“Cure”

Me Of My DT’s;

I Cannot Cure Me of My Loneliness.

***

Why Do I Torture Me With Old Memories?

“Henry

The

“Just A Dog, Dog”–

And Now His Watch Has Ended”

Drinkin’ Will Kill Ya Slow;

Delirium Tremens (DTs)

Will Kill Ya Quick.

Trust Me On This One Y’all

Cred For Vid:

https://www.youtube.com/c/canadaqbank

Trust Me:

I know.

 

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 Love Rita. I Just Caint Hep It!!!! “Well, I just got back from New York City; Kris and Rita Done it all.”

“Rita Coolidge, Rita Coolidge cleft for me”

ritacoolidgeandkrisk.jpg

–Willie Nelson

Since it is still Texas Independence Day, I am gonna continue to bombast my Blog with Texans I admire.

Here is (in my mind) one of the greatest (and most misunderstood and underrated) Texans: Kris Kristofferson, Rhode’s Scholar, ruffian, redneck, poet.

He married well. Too bad it didn’t take. Rita Coolidge! He should have found a way to make that work…

To Be So Smart, Kris, You Were An Idiot!

(I Can Certainly Relate!)

***PROFANITY Alert*** This One Ain’t ‘Sanitized’–For-Your-Protection “I Want Another Dog (This man don’t need no maid) He ‘needs’ a doggy. Reference Neil below…”

This was my last dog–Fully All-Mine Dog–

Lock, Stock & All Four Paws DOG.

Picked Him From The Litter.

Paid My Money.

Took My Chances and Drove Him Home.

I Named Him

‘Tejas’

Y’all Should Be Able To Figure Out Why

He Wasn’t Terrible Bright

But I Loved Him Anyway

He Grew Into A Hundred-Thirty Pound

‘Bull-In-A-China-Closet Dog

(He Destroyed Every-Thing He Looked AT)

i.e., He Ran Rampant

We ‘lived’ together in Missouri with some woman.

Her name escapes me.

I think we were married Once.

But I forget her name.

No Matter; She Was Not Important to Me

But The Dog Was

I am lonely and the maids all tell me to fuck the fuck off when I try to invite them in for coffee. Just fucking coffee. That’s all. They got no time. Cannot be bothered.

I need some creature to love me

Unconditionally.

(If I go to the animal shelter and all the doggies tell me to fuck off–I may have some personal problems that need sorting out, but we ain’t there yet. Thank God)

Two legs or four. No more. I am done with spiders and snakes. I want something cuddly to love me. No more spiders or ants. Ever try to cuddle up to an ant or a spider? Trust me: it never works out as you had envisioned...

I cannot afford to be particular at this point, but I think a dog would do the trick.

Cats good too, but they are not very affectionate.

However, they are very

Low Maintenance.

Kinda like self-cleaning ovens.

Low Maintenance

I Like That in-a-cat

***

But I want a fuckin’ ‘Toto Too’

“Someplace Where There Isn’t Any trouble”

Cred For Vid Share: MOV Clips

***

Toto! I love you!

(Dorothy I Love you too—But this ain’t about you–

I Have Already Spilled Enuff Ink On You)

More to come.

Maybe

Maybe not.

Never find one to replace the ones below….

But a reasonable facsimile…. I’ll settle for second or third best.

That would be groovy.

I disagree Neil!

I want a FUCKIN’ DOG!!

Not a Maid

(A maid’s half-life in my house would be about 20 minutes)

“I fell in love with the actress; she was playing a part I could understand.”

No Shit Neil?!

Been There.

Live There.

Got Lots of T-Shirts

Neil,

I love you Bro, but some of your lyrics and songs just piss me the fuck off. I suppose some things just don’t ‘age’ well. Not your fault. You used to be cool. Now, yer not. Such is life.

I can certainly relate.

I used to be cool too.

Now, I ain’t.

Wanna join my club?

No?

Your loss, not mine.

But I Would NOT Turn A Maid Away, If She Bravely Showed Up

P.S. I am done with turtles too!

Bonus Bonus Onus, Own Us Bonus!

See? See Link Below. Read it. Weep.

I love all kinds of critters.

But I WANT A FUCKKNG DOG

(And I will resist the urge to speak of any of my ex-wives—save that for later)

Why Did I Pick This Particular Un-Manageable Breed?

(Dogue de Bordeaux)

Here’s Why:

Cred For Vid Share: rka1010expendable

*****

I Don’t Know Why I Drop This In

At the End

‘Cept That I Love It.

Reason Enough I Guess

“Catch Up Lance!”

Street Cred For Vid Share: EsmaraldaVillaLobos

****

We Don’t Need

No More Trouble

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.

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

Well, I just got back from New York city; Kris and Rita done it all

“Rita Coolidge, Rita Coolidge cleft for me”

ritacoolidgeandkrisk.jpg

–Willie Nelson

Since it is still Texas Independence Day, I am gonna continue to bombast my Blog with Texans I admire.

Here is (in my mind) one of the greatest (and most misunderstood and underrated) Texans: Kris Kristofferson, Rhode’s Scholar, ruffian, redneck, poet.

He married well. Too bad it didn’t take. Rita Coolidge! He should have found a way to make that work…

To Be So Smart, Kris, You Were An Idiot!

(I Can Relate!)