Zero Six Hundred Hours: Sailor Lance is Slightly Drunk, But Alive & Awake & And Aware. Yet Not Quite There. Didn’t Care. Not Fit For Duty. My Bad. I will Suffer… The Consequences… Laters

Drunken Sailor – Irish Rovers

“May Yah Be A Half-Hour In Heaven B’fore The Devil Knows Yer Dead.”

Must Watch This One Below Y’all!

Cred: Drunken Sailer – Irish Rovers & Momratz


Zero Six

Knock upon my door.

“What the fuck? Who the fuck?”

Unhesitant, I opened my door

(I fear nothing, nor no one)

Standing before me in the pre-dawn was Timothy, my neighbor.

“Sup Tim?” I asked Tim

“Can you drive me to the gas station for some gas?”

“Nope,” I said. “I been drinkin’, but you can drive.” I handed him my Labomba Keys.

“Can we also drop my woman at her job and my son at school?”

“Hey, Yer the Captain now.

I’m just the Boatswain’s mate. Let’s shove off and get this ship underway.”

There was only one problem: My Labomba is a ‘Two-Seater’ due to the fact that my entire life is stowed in the back.

Tim’s Girl is rather large. We tried to wedge us into the shotgun seat. No dice. Ain’t gonna happen… And even if it had, the ship would list… dangerously to starboard

“Tim” I said, “Maybe you can re-arrange some of that shit in the back and free up a seat.
He did just that.

His girl and his son parked themselves in the newly liberated seat and off we sped into the pre-dawn Texas morning.

To be continued…

Or not



Rescue Mission

Cred for Vid Share: Moki John

Sailor Man!

One-Way Ticket:

“I Bought a Box of Tampons Today” or “How to Release Your ‘Inner-Macho’ in One Simple Step” (Pay Attention Boys; This One May Save Your Next Planned Fishin’ Trip)

Truly A Renaissance Man

Specifically, I purchased ‘Tampax Pearl’… “In the Blue & Green Box.”

Because THAT Was What SHE Required.

“Good luck. See ya when you get back. Be safe.”

Memphis, circa 2013

This was to be my quest, my only mission quest: to find those and only those specific tampons:

My Search for the…

Holy Grail of Feminine Hygiene Products!

(In the blue and green box? Are you fucking kidding me? I discovered Myriad tampons in blue & green boxes…)

In fact, an entire isle was dedicated to nothing but Tampons of various brands, all shapes and sizes and quantities and qualities.

Damn Near ALL of which were in blue and green boxes!

Welcome to The Tampon Jungle

Enjoy Your Stay

Fortunately, before embarking upon my Quest, I’d had the presence of mind, using my semi-smart phone, to capture an image of the now empty and defunct ‘pearls’ box.

Yep, I had fetched along a visual aid to guide me in my pursuit of the ‘keeping the little woman happy’ self-preservation project.

I’m real smart in this way.

I attribute this trait to my erstwhile Navy SEAL training:


Fun and Useful Fact Boys:

If your woman is really specific and passionate and matter-of-fact about something, it behooves you to set down your beer and pay close attention.

Don’t be bringin’ home no ‘Magic Beans’ Jack.

You’ll regret that.


Mission Accomplished. No apparent casualties.

Now Men, I know what some of you are thinking…

Won’t elaborate, as this is a ‘Family Friendly’ Blog Site.

But I will go even further on the box of The Pearl Tampons.

(‘In The Green Box’—there must be some metaphor to discover there.)

That Box O’Pearls was the only item in my shopping cart, naked those pearls were, all alone.

Ridin’ Solo in a big ol’ shoppin’ cart, just a-sittin’ there, revvin’ their engines..

All by their lonesome.

“I’m so lonesome I could cry”

Did I try to conceal  ‘em? Cover ‘em up with some dead red animal flesh, some pound or four of ground beef?


Some Guns & Ammo mags?


Three cases of beer?


A chain saw from the lawn and garden department?


Did I try to repeat the scene from “Summer of Forty Two” with the kid tryin’ to buy condoms? Askin’ for an ice cream cone, sprinkles, and almost every other small thing behind the counter, then…

”Oh, by the way, throw in some rubbers while you’re at it.”



Here is the reason:

I am Secure in My Masculinity.

I can purchase tampons for my woman while under the blinding glare of Super Market Lights from which nothing ever goes unnoticed.

No sweat.

No shame.

No fear.

No potential peril to my Manhood.

(I also listen to Joni Mitchell and Janis Ian and I cry at movies, some movies anyway. ‘RoboCop’ comes immediately to mind).

Point is, Guys Git Over It!

Go out and buy a box of tampons for your Lady.

And only a box of tampons.

(And only for your woman—if you don’t have a woman at this moment—just file this handy slice of advice away for future reference)

For the Rest of Y’all, I’ll leave you with this:

The Experience Shall Set You Free.

While simultaneously releasing your ‘Inner-Machismo-Mobility’

Trust me:

No one will dare fuck with a man packin’ tampons.

Credit: MDA Telethon


All in all, I’d pronounce this a favorable ‘Mission Outcome.’ No Casualties. Minimal Stress. Minimal Potential for PTSD.

Homeward Bound And Happy to Be Bearing The Spoils of War

Happy? Yes ‘Happy’

After all, with just one misstep, things could’ve gone horribly wrong in the Other Direction:


Some ‘Added Value’ just for Levity:

Street Cred for Vid: Shut Up! Cartoons

Some May Call This as a Call… To Y’all

But, I call it…. Nope!

Yer call!

“The cannons don’t thunder; there’s nothin’ to plunder…”

Y’all know…

Here is an opinion y’all did not see coming: This is a Stupid Fantasy Song. A Texan said that! Nay! I am (he said, “A Comanche!” 

Now, that is funny…

Guess so… 

Not to put too fine a point upon it, but, I have a finite time left. Once upon a time, I stepped on a dime and it was promised to me, you see… I never contemplated ‘finite’, as you see, everything was infinite to me… And in my unsung mind, that was how it should be. Unshining dime.

No mas

No more.

Certainly no less.


Anyway, as ‘brevity is the soul of wit…’ I find me witness, er,  wireless, sycophant.

I got ROBBED by Thesim And some other is ‘ISM’s!!!!

(Yes! I am looking for a fight. A fight with all you Hyper-Christians. Yep)

And yes! YES! We can be as radical as you!

I Had to go to Egypt. Egypt! Egypt! 

To sate… me.


Upon sober reflection, I decided to ‘edit’ that bit out.


“Why, Oh Why Lance, do you edit yourself?”

“Because I can Grasshopper. Because I can.”


 And, NO! This ain’t no suicide! Note: This is a preamble, to the gamble… I lost.

Lost? You ask?

Yes! Lost!


The curve!

That curve!

That, “Hey Lance! Let’s run dope! Lance! No,”..Lance, let us not ‘run’ thru mis…Miss Mis. No!”

I made me. I did that. I worked hard. I was honour. I was. It was never enuff to make the money. Was it?

There was never enough!

Was There!!

Apparently not.



I laugh at my own hyperbole.

I do.

 I really do …

fade back into the shadows; I Am no World Leader…

But I screwed the pooch…

and then I begged forgiveness from my father.

Guess what?

He gave.

I denied. For you see? 

That did not matter anymore.

Now, this is a test.


Because I am bored. I have severed my country… 

I Just wanna see…how good… is the NSA.

(and… I am a bit of a ‘rebel’ all in all…)

And when the U. S. A. Understands that, then that… will fix…

And vex… us all.


End of Rant (ain’t ya glad?)

-Lance (The Nice One)


 “Just takes a while!”

I feeel like I’ve drown’d’

Gonna he’d up town…

 meanwhile back at the ranch…

Da Plane! Da Plane!