Donald Trump (Ahem)

The Greatest Reality Show On Earth

I just might vote TRUMP.

Why not?

(And what’s wrong with Big Hair anyhow?! Even I, your humble servant, used to have Big Hair–Then I learned to read.)

I mean, honestly, The Prez really don’t have power anymore, c’mon People!

Sampson hair notwithstanding. Don’t believe me? Ask Obama. Or…

Take a look at the Nineteen-Nineties. Clinton, try as he might, had no way to stifle the dot.com prosperity, precarious precipice that it was. (Not that he would have wanted to, but…hey! Outta his control)

Wally-World, et al, took that bull (my pun) by the horns and killed the messenger. (Oh! And the simple fact that the 1920’s had no intrinsic value, historically squeaking, that is.) And the other simple fact that all good deeds go punish’d. And the other simple fact that America, MY America always… well, never mind.

‘Nother case in point: LBJ.

He dreamed of the ‘Great Society’ almost made it, save for that little problem in Southeast Asia. (He coulda been a contender, instead of a bum)

(Brando Warning Here!)

Nuff said: We have now come to the era of “Not-So-Great-Presidents.”

They mean nothing, vis-à-vis, The World Order.

They have been reduced to fodder.

Fodder for CNN, Fox, SNL, and The ‘Honey Grove Senile Citizen’ (my hometown rag)

So…

Why not Trump? I mean, with no mean meaning, why not? He will entertain. He will give CNN, Fox, et al, something to pontificate over (“Never end a sentence with a preposition Lance”—sorry—my bad)

I love The Donald: he has made an uninteresting (for news junkies) year…

Funny.

And I do love funny.

Merry Christmas and see you at the voting booth (I will be that embarrassing uncle in the back with a scotch in his hand and a Marlboro in his lips—pontificating about ‘LBJ’, The Great Society, and wearing the Nixon-Now-More-Than-Ever…T-Shirt.

And saying, ad nausea: “I told you so…”

Shamelessly, I just finished re-reading “Grapes of Wrath” or… in other words: I am with Bernie Sanders on this Deal Folks.

And never forget this:

Or this, regarding ‘Third-Party-Politics” (for those of you astute in The American Political Prophesy):

And, Yes, Virginia: Trump is a “Ring-Tail-Tooter.”

Me no Alamo.

-Lancer

 

Gainful Employment

No, when I go to sea, I go as a simple sailor, right before the mast, plumb down into the forecastle, aloft there to the royal mast-head. True, they rather order me about some, and make me jump from spar to spar, like a grasshopper in a May meadow. And at first, this sort of thing is unpleasant enough. It touches one’s sense of honour, particularly if you come of an old established family in the land, the Van Rensselaers, or Randolphs, or Hardicanutes.

And more than all, if just previous to putting your hand into the tar-pot, you have been lording it as a country schoolmaster, making the tallest boys stand in awe of you. The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.

What of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, weighed, I mean, in the scales of the New Testament? Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave?

Tell me that.

Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other’s shoulder-blades, and be content.

-Melville: Moby Dick

So here I find me, working for pittance at UPS. “Seasonal Employee” they call it/me. Good. Seasons are good. I missed having ‘seasons’ when I lived in Southern California. Yes, seasons are good. Why, you may ask, do I take such a job, slinging parcels, dealing with antiquated computer systems, dealing with… well, dealing.

I do it for many reasons. I shall list them below:

  1. I need to get out of the house
  2. I need to ‘connect’ with real people again (No offense to all y’all out there in Radio Land), but yes: Real Folks
  3. My job search to get me back to “The Sandbox”, “The War”, aka Mid East, has not brought me instant gratification.
  4. I enjoy physical labor.
  5. Beer money is needed.
  6. I have never found anything wrong with honest, hard work.
  7. Need I go on?
  8. Didn’t think so

My philosophy on these matters has always been as was Melville’s. I take the job. Do my best. Never mind that I am always the ‘smartest-person-in-the-room’… I am good at acting, and even faux sycophanting (Is that a word? Of course it is)

And I must say, there is something rather endearing and fulfilling about having someone want you for gainful employment. I mean, it is good to be valuable to someone, or to some entity, n’est-ce-pas? Even if it is just seasonally…

More on this later

 

Do Re Mi

Love my readers.

Surely

Certainly

Absolutely

But this post will throw Y’all into a ‘Tale’ Spin. And may just bring your loyalty into question… such as it may be. Didn’t ask for it, but do appreciate it–in whatever manifest.

Do Re Mi

Why? 

Because I am a Socialist

Dust bowl

Or Why Not?

Dunno…

Perhaps ’cause you don’t tread between the lines’.

(And for those of you who, who do, I do sincerely apologize) 

“Peace and Happiness”

Sincerely,

–Lance

Yeah! I am embracing….that!

***

This post made absolutely no SENSE!

(If you love me; you will humor me!)

Hahahahah!

P.S. I Served My Country

 

It is (Still) Morning (Mourning?) in America!

“Oh shit!” ‘Sorry Ronnie Toopac… Nancy’Melania!

It is ‘SundayTuesday  Wednesday in Amerika!

“Let us watch ‘The Golf’ read my tweets!”

agusta

“Huge vivla la diff’ eh’?”

“Oh Me ah me! What ever do you mean?” (Said Nancy Melania)

“Ah shit Nancy! Melania! I mean it is morning in Amerka! Didn’t I say that?!”

“No, you are a Commie if you did!”

Nancy! Melania! I am soooo Sorry! I lost my place! Here was I, back in the Eighties! Working for law and land! Money, lust, and US!

I even enlisted! I served my Country! What did I get? Bupkis!” What did I get? Rich!

“Butt… We (Ronnie and I—don’t he look cute—riding that horsey? Honey?—Now…what were you saying? You middle class? Oh Yeah! Something  about entitlements?”)

“Uh! Ya know what? Nancy? Mel? Never mind. We got ours. And ya know what? We got that Commie Bastard!—That Gorbo-chov!  That Puttie… God Bless America!”

“But… where is the money?”

“for America?”

For us?

Where is our prosperity?

I thought we won the war?

Where? Where are the fruits?

They just evaporated.

Didn’t they?

“I made enuff money to buy Miami, but I pissed it away so fast…”

–Jimmy Buffett

“Just say no,” “Make US Great”  was all she said, as she walked away.

(The conversation is ambiguous, waxes and wanes, for a reason: we are all to blame)

“You let ’em come home…” America.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

The US of US is the only place that stays open all night. For All. We sort em out, once they (manage) to get here.

The US of US is the only place that stays open all night. For All. We sort em out, once they (manage) to get here.

For All.