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!)

“A Wink Is As Good As A Nod To A Blind Horse”

Just An Amble Of A Pre-Amble

‘Bout

Somethink

I Am ‘Werkin / Twerkin’

On…

That Below Is NOT Really Me!

(But A Reasonable Facsimile)

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“Nudge Nudge”

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Monty Python

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Teaser! Teaser! Cabin Fever!

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Just A Future Post I Have In-My-Head

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Just Fer Fun!

Ever Known One Of These Chicks Like These?

I Know I Have

Katy Perry – Roar PARODY

Street Cred: Wassabi

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Y’all Wanna Know The Worst Tactile Sensation Ever? Of Course You Do. Dirty Toilet Jokes: I Cussed My Toilet Out. Then I Felt Remorse. Apologized. I Dialed 911. When the EMT’s Arrived, They Were NOT Amused.

The Toilet Song by The Wiggles

Animation by Super Simple Songs

Shitter.png

Of course you do.

It is when you go to flush the toilet and that handle snarls back at you, rather limp-wrist’d, as if to say,

“Not tonight Asshole. Go back to sleep.”

(Now, in some truth, I could probably improve this post. For example: I should not have referenced ‘limp wrists”. In truth, y’all know how it is when you go to flush that toilet and there just ain’t no resistance. “Limp Wrists’ was just about all I could manage at the time of publishing…. (Isn’t that funny? Like I am a fucking news paper?) Dead-lines!

Some one shoot me!

(Make it quick! Head Shot! Right thru the mouth–or better…the mouse.)

God and some foll’ers will thank  you.

Foretelling  ‘Foreboding’ (See? I tend to edit as as I go… My father once tole me, “Lance! Enuff! Enough! It takes an editor to be smart; that is why we make more monies.”) some deep sea-toilet trolling (trolling?)  diving to fix.

Yeah…

Really?

Don’t think so.

Maybe tomorrow…

(There are three (other) toilets in this ‘Mouse-House’)

“So, fuck off.”

(My toilet did not reply)

Yes,  I talk to my toilet… don’t we all?

“Take your hand off that mouse Mister! Don’t make me come over there.”

“Yessir! Please don’t shoot me; I’m just the piano-player.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me. What do you think, Jim?”

“Yeah. Bullshit. Shoot him.”

“OK.”

Bang! Bang!

“He gone.”

(Sorry, Si Robertson; some of this … this is probably out-of-context)

Then again…

Maybe not.

We will not even begin to speak about your brother.

Damnit! I miss Christopher Hitchens!

 

Even more embarrassing

Been There….

Did That

At least More Than Thrice

But Who’s Countin’

Right?

You know the toilet is broke dick dog.

Yet…

You still try to ‘visit.’

And it takes three tries to get into the door.

(Yet, it is a really small door–just sayin’– and not so easily navigated, drunk nor sober)

Only to be so disappointed (yet again) over the the whole toilet experience.

OK.

Fine!

Resist?

Naw!

Below, please discover Lenny’s take on toilet-training.

(and of course: entertaining, or reasonable facsimile)

“Take This Toilet And Boil It.”

(Watch/Listen Below. Otherwise it all just falls apart)

Just like my fucking toilet.

“Dirty Word Problem”

: : :

Obscenity Bonus:

“Obscenity is a Human Manifestation”

–Lenny

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!)

Y’all Wanna Know The Worst Tactile Sensation Ever?

Shitter.png

Of course you do.

It is when you go to flush the toilet and that handle snarls back at you, rather limp-wrist’d, as if to say,

“Not tonight Asshole. Go back to sleep.”

(Now, in some truth, I could probably improve this post. For example: I should not have referenced ‘limp wrists”. In truth, y’all know how it is when you go to flush that toilet and there just ain’t no resistance. “Limp Wrists’ was just about all I could manage at the time of publishing…. (Isn’t that funny? Like I am a fucking news paper?) Dead-lines!

Some one shoot me!

(Make it quick! Head Shot! Right thru the mouth–or better…the mouse.)

God and some foll’ers will thank  you.

Foretelling  ‘Foreboding’ (See? I tend to edit as as I go… My father once tole me, “Lance! Enuff! Enough! It takes an editor to be smart; that is why we make more monies.”) some deep sea-toilet trolling (trolling?)  diving to fix.

Yeah…

Really?

Don’t think so.

Maybe tomorrow…

(There are three (other) toilets in this ‘Mouse-House’)

“So, fuck off.”

(My toilet did not reply)

Yes,  I talk to my toilet… don’t we all?

“Take your hand off that mouse Mister! Don’t make me come over there.”

“Yessir! Please don’t shoot me; I’m just the piano-player.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me. What do you think, Jim?”

“Yeah. Bullshit. Shoot him.”

“OK.”

Bang! Bang!

“He gone.”

(Sorry, Si Robertson; some of this … this is probably out-of-context)

Then again…

Maybe not.

We will not even begin to speak about your brother.

Damnit! I miss Christopher Hitchens!

 

Even more embarrassing:

You know the toilet is broke dick dog.

Yet…

You still try to ‘visit.’

And it takes three tries to get into the door.

(Yet, it is a really small door–just sayin’– and not so easily navigated, drunk nor sober)

Only to be so disappointed (yet again) over the the whole toilet experience.

OK.

Fine!

Resist?

Naw!

Below, please discover Lenny’s take on toilet-training.

(and of course: entertaining, or reasonable facsimile)

“Take This Toilet And Boil It.”

(Watch/Listen Below. Otherwise it all just falls apart)

Just like my fucking toilet.

“Dirty Word Problem”

: : :

Obscenity Bonus:

“Obscenity is a Human Manifestation”

–Lenny

Frogicide: Is This a Capital Offense?

I may have buried the lead on this one.

(Along with the frog)

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When I hear songs, they lead me into other songs, which lead me into more songs, and then inevitably,  they collide, atom like, and split into even further songs, and therein lies that rub. Yet in the currency of life, well… songs are life. Fatal collisions notwithstanding.

But they do resurrect memories.

At least mine in my mind do.

This one, This Herb Alpert one, Taste of Honey, I first heard while shopping for glass slides for my microscope. (I think I was approaching my nine years’ on Earth anniversary) I was in a shopping mall–long before there were such things in any other place but my Bellwether California.

No matter…

I was walking through the ‘toy store’, for that was the only place a ‘wee child’ could purchase slides for microscopes back then (without a legal guardian), when I, with the helpful help of the condescending moron at the store, found the blank glass slides.

“How much?” I earnestly asked.

“Four dollars,” he earnestly answered.

“Four dollars!” I exclaimed.

“Yes Son, Four dollars.”

“OK,” I said. “When a child needs slides, a child needs slides, but be somewhat forewarned and aware, that your sum represents two months’ allowance for me, reaped from the heavy hot labor of mowing yards, taking out trash, keeping my mouth shut, (when so ordered), and generally just being an unwillingly good kid. Someday you will lament this encounter when you are in Purgatory for ripping off a wee child.”

“Plus tax,” he added.

Shit!

Sometimes one’s Bullshit falls short, and fails to hit The Mark.

You see? I was a wanna-be microbiologist even then. Of course, I did murder, sacrifice  dissect-ize, euthanize some frogs along the way. (For The Good of Frog-Kind, and for Science, of course) I figure the ‘statue’ of limitations on Frogicide has long since crumbled…

I sure do hope so.  Once, my buddies and I captured a frog (probably a toad actually) and we, the four of us, tied strings around his legs and then on the count of three, we ran in four different directions.

The frog exploded.

My mother, drying dishes and watching through the kitchen window, witnessed this.

She was vociferous in her chastisement. Then I had remorse. (for about ten minutes) 

Dust now, most likely, that statute.

So now, Gentles All, I confess to my crime… of Frogicide.

I did it for the tadpoles.

And science.

Ribbit, Ribbit.