Moron-Lance Note: I Should NOT Have Re-Visited This! It is Really Fukkin’ me up! Damn it!
“Too Late Asshole. Damage is Done! Have a Pleasant Night.”
****
So Come Along. Let Us Take A Stroll Down ‘Sad Memory Lane’ Together. Someone Fetch Along A Coupla bottles of Beefeater Gin
Pls Re-Vis’t This–It Makes No Sense!…. Made Me Cry… Don’t Even Know Why! To Think That I Actually Wrote it! What Was I Not Drinking??? Diana?? Diana? Why Did You die??? I am So Sorry! And As For You, Christopher Hitchens, You are Cordially Invited to Kiss My Ass!
Christopher! I LOVE You!,
But In This Case, re:
Any Thing
“Diana”
You May Kiss My ASS!
Must Watch!—
Fuxk it!
I am Tired of Beating This dead Horsey–
Watch if’n You want—
Or Not!
I Honestly Can Say…
“I Do Not Give A Shit.”
It is Only Important to Me Anyway
Yes!
I am a Hopelessly Romantic SAP.
***
Her untimely departure really fucked me up.
(More than this ‘Macho-Man’ would ever care or confess to admit.)
Street Cred for Vid: Missmariasiya
(I love England)
This is Well-Documented in
These Pages
***
Prince Howdy Doody
“Howdy Asshole!
How’s it Hangin’ Bro?!”
Ugly Motherfucker Who Got Lucky
****
Christopher,
I love you more than cash money, BUT I do not agree with you. (Actually I Do… Sorta.) However, comma, I’d like to hold onto my Idealistic Dreams And Fantasies… Regarding Princesses.
Real-Life Ones.
****
So on this note,
Christopher,
Go Get Fucked.
****
I am very far removed from ‘stupid,’ and Christopher is spot on here/below,
but I am also a hopeless romantic.
So I am torn between two lovers.
My conundrum
“Lovin’ you both is breaking all the rules.” “Well shit! I am in the ‘rule-breaking’ business.”
Author’s update September 2021: Ignore this one. Itis stupid and I must have been drunk when I dropped it in.
Sorry
Street Cred for the Vid: Juan Manuel Astorga
*****
“The Cult of Diana” —Christopher Hitchens :
Update September 2021: From an email string sent to a good friend:
P.S., The Hitch bit is brilliant: “Cult of Diana: The Mourning After.” But it still pisses me off. And you know how much I love Hitch But, as I said in my piece, “Don’t fucking rain upon my fantasy.” Or Words to that effect.
***
“I suppose I am studid to claim to be so smart.
I still love The Princess of Wales.
But, I also realize this comes from my deep down hopeless stupid romantic ideas. I like to believe in Fairy Tales. (Not gay Fairy Tales…. the old school ones…)
***
“studid?” Did I type that? I am too studid to be stupid.
*****
Goodbye England’s rose May you ever grow in our hearts You were the grace that placed itself Where lives were torn apart You called out to our country And you whispered to those in pain Now you belong to heaven And the stars spell out your name
And it seems to me you lived your life Like a candle in the wind Never fading with the sunset When the rain set in And your footsteps will always fall here Along England’s greenest hills Your candle’s burned out long before Your legend ever will
Loveliness we’ve lost These empty days without your smile This torch we’ll always carry For our nation’s golden child And even though we try The truth brings us to tears All our words cannot express The joy you brought us through the years
And it seems to me you lived your life Like a candle in the wind Never fading with the sunset When the rain set in And your footsteps will always fall here Along England’s greenest hills Your candle’s burned our long before Your legend ever will
Goodbye England’s rose May you ever grow in our hearts You were the grace that placed itself Where lives were torn apart Goodbye England’s rose From a country lost without your soul Who’ll miss the wings of your compassion More than you’ll ever know
And it seems to me you lived your life Like a candle in the wind Never fading with the sunset When the rain set in And you footsteps will always fall here Along England’s greenest hills Your candle’s burned out long before Your legend ever will
*****
I loved my Daddy.
Never sure if he loved me.
I thought he was always the smartest in any room, but one day he said something incredibly stupid to me.
(Shortly after the breakup of Lady Di and that moron she was married to.)
She had a broken wing thanks to Charles-The-Cheating-Unfaithful-Asshole–Moron
(I’m an Asshole Moron too, but I NEVER EVER Cheated on any of my four wives)
But Janet and I were pretty much Legal-Separated then and I knew for shit-sure she had been keeping a Soy Toy Boy on the side for months, so WTF right?
***
The expression on Diana’s face speaks volumes.
Volume One:
“What the fuck was I thinking?”
Daddy said, and I quote:
“That’s what happens when you marry a commoner.”
What an ignorant statement!
And I told him so.
“Diana Spencer was English Nobility way before she married into The House of Windsor.“
I was kicked out of Marcom Manor immediately (and permanently) after that.
(Daddy never enjoyed anyone hanging about who was not a sycophant to him.)
I have not found the proper, respectful enough words justyet.
Working on that.
Maybe the words will never come.
I am no poet and my prose kinda sucks as well.
But I will endeavor to do my best
All I can offer just now is,
“Farewell And Adieu Great Lady. Travel Well. May You Always Have Fair Winds and Following Seas”
To all my Good Friends in Britain,
I am so sorry for your loss.
Yes, I have been to England and I was never happier in any Foreign, to me, Land and it is my firm resolve to re-visit your magnificent country once more ‘ere I cash my chips
And sometimes, humor can heal just a little, so I offer this not to be disrespectful, but to illustrate that we must find a way to deal with tragedy. Humour always, kind of, sort of, works for me.
And Just In-Case Ya’ll Anglophiles Were Not Completely Bummed Out And Depressed By Now, Here is A ‘Bonus Sorrow’ to Walk With Down Memory Lane, Keeping It In Your ‘Sad Memory Pocket’
When I was working in Basra, my gig allowed two weeks R&R every two months or so. Sounds like a deal, eh? Well, yes it was. Be aware however, we worked seven days a week, ten hours a day. NO days off. So do the math; we earned it. And of course we were getting shelled and rocketed and mortared regularly.
Anyhow, I had a stateside girlfriend back then. Actually more friend than girl. Rather platonic relationship, but we were ‘Buds’ and I loved her dearly. (Still do) And we went way back.
It was agreed by us both, that once I went to Iraq, we would spend our (my) R&R’s together. I flew her to Barcelona, Athens, Italy, and finally London. (She made all the arrangements. All I had to do was show up) Too easy for me.
Mid 2006 we met in London. I was ‘cacked out’ (Lenny Bruce vernacular). Worn out. Plumb tuckered. Tired. Damn tired. Spent.
She was, of course not. Now mind you, this woman had been all over Europe already. London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Berlin, Athens… well, she was rich. Catch my drift? I had seen quite a lot of Europe my own damn self. Did not hold much magic for me.
All I really wanted was some ‘down time.’
Bless her heart (and this speaks volumes of our great friendship), she let me do what I wanted; which basically meant I could sit in the flat she had arranged for us in downtown London and drink Beefeater while watching movies and smoking Marlboro’s and ranting at the current state of affairs in Iraq.
After a few days, she did manage to get me out of the flat for a walk-about. We went to Buckingham Palace (one day shot there)
We went to the British Museum; saw the Rosetta stone. Another day gone.
“Lance that’s the Rosetta Stone.”
“Yep, that’s cool. What’s it say?”
“It says, ‘Shut up Lance’”
Had some fish ‘n’ chips (I preferred Long John Silvers, but that is just what an asshole I am)
Rode the Tube. (I prefer Le Metro in Paris, but what the hell)
And various other exhausting exhilarating excursions.
“About three days before we were to part: me back to The Sandbox; she back to Texas, she asked me, “Lance, isn’t there any place in London you would like to see?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. I wanna go down to Marble Arch Station.”
“Whaaat?” she said.
“Yeah. Marble Arch Station.”
“That is a Tube Station.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why on Earth…”
“Because it belongs to Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. And Texas.”
She acquiesced and off we went. Got there and I had a salutary beer to J.J. Walker and Gary P. Nunn. Then I was happy and pronounced my R&R a successful bit of Rest and Relaxation.
Best Video From “Lost Gonzo Band (with Gary P. Nunn)”
“Well I decided that
I’d get my cowboy hat
And go down to Marble Arch Station…”
Went back to the flat and had a few gin and tonics and lived happily ever after.
“R&R” means that: Rest and Relax and do whatever the hell you want. London could wait… until I came back the next time.
When I was working in Basra my gig allowed two weeks R&R every two months or so. Sounds like a deal, eh? Well yes it was. Be aware however, we worked seven days a week, ten hours a day. NO days off. So do the math; we earned it. And of course we were getting shelled and rocketed and mortared regularly.
I had a stateside girlfriend back then. Actually more friend than girl. Rather platonic relationship, but we were ‘Buds’ and I loved her dearly. (Still do) And we went way back.
It was agreed by us both that once I went to Iraq we would spend our (my) R&R’s together. I flew her to Barcelona, Athens, Italy, and finally London. (She made all the arrangements. All I had to do was show up) Too easy for me.
Mid 2006 we met in London. I was ‘cacked out’ (Lenny Bruce vernacular). Worn out. Plumb tuckered. Tired. Damn tired. Spent.
Click Me: This Was My London
She was of course not. Now mind you, this woman had been all over Europe already. London, Paris, Madrid, Rome, Berlin, Athens… well, she was rich. Catch my drift? I had seen quite a lot of Europe my own damn self. Did not hold much magic for me.
All I really wanted was some ‘down time.’
Bless her heart (and this speaks volumes of our great friendship), she let me do what I wanted, which basically meant I could sit in the flat she had arranged for us in downtown London and drink Beefeater while watching movies and smoking Marlboro’s and ranting at the current state of affairs in Iraq.
After a few days she did manage to get me out of the flat for a walk-about. We went to Buckingham Palace (one day shot there)
We went to the British Museum; saw the Rosetta stone. Another day gone.
“Lance that’s the Rosetta Stone.”
“Yep, that’s cool. What’s it say? I caint quite make it out”
“It says, ‘Shut up Lance'”
Had some fish ‘n’ chips (I preferred Long John Silvers, but that is just what an asshole I am)
Rode the Tube. (I prefer Le Metro in Paris, but what the hell)
And various other exhausting exhilarating excursions.
“About three days before we were to part: me back to The Sandbox; she back to Texas, she asked me, “Lance, isn’t there any place in London you would like to see?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. I wanna go down to Marble Arch Station.”
“Whaaat?” she said.
“Yeah. Marble Arch Station.”
“That is a Tube Station.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why on Earth…”
“Because it belongs to Gary P. Nunn and Jerry Jeff Walker. And Texas.”
She acquiesced and off we went. Got there and I had a salutary beer to J.J. Walker and Gary P. Nunn. Then I was happy and pronounced my R&R a successful bit of Rest and Relaxation.
Best Video From “Lost Gonzo Band (with Gary P. Nunn)”
“Well I decided that
I’d get my cowboy hat
And go down to Marble Arch Station…”
Went back to the flat and had a few gin and tonics and lived happily ever after.
“R&R” means that: Rest and Relax and do whatever the hell you want. London could wait… until I came back the next time.
