So, The Commerce PD Just Arrested ME. Arrested Me & Returned me to the Hospitably Hos-spittal -al. And All that Magical Magic Would Entail For Me: The Commerce, American Hospital.

Long story ‘Bout Me–

Maybee Later I’ll Tell The Story.

Trust Me: It Ain’t Easy Being Me.

True  Story

At least I got me a souvenir:

Get Well Soon!

Cred for vid: =


Jury Duty, Texas Style: Sentence, GUILTY! Too Sad / Too Bad That Your Lame-Ass Lawyer Stepped On My Ego. I’m Sorry Johnson, Wherever You May Be Now-A-Days….


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four


All left to do: pronounce sentence.

As it was so late in the afternoon (and we really wanted to score just one more pizza the following day), we retired for the afternoon, to return the next morning. Now, of course I thought we could make quick work of this business and not get any more pizza.

I was mistaken.

First of all, we had to sit in that musty courtroom for an hour or so, listening to the prosecutor drone on about how we needed (our civic duty) to throw the book at this kid whom we had unanimously recently convicted (Hardly unanimous, but hey! Who’s counting?)

Then we had to listen to The Defense chastise us roundly for convicting an innocent (innocent?) man.

Well, the Defense pissed me off. (Yes. My failing, but more on that later. Not something I am proud of today)

After a couple of hours of this, we retired to our ‘chambers’.

The air was not quite as contentious (almost) as it was the previous day, yet…

The minimum sentence we could pronounce was fifteen years.

Straight-away I had a more roundish number in my head: ‘Twenty’.

Hell! He would be out in seven, given good behavior and prison overcrowding.

Once again, Blue-Haired Lady was having none of this. And I did respect her emotion. Yet, damnit! That defense attorney done pissed me off (Shades of Peanut). How dare he say these words he said:

“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen of the ‘jury’ (Yes. Sarcasm was dripping, like something out of a drunken sailor’s mouth) since you have already made one ‘mistake’… do not make yet another, and give this man anything more than the minimum.”

With his sarcasm bouncing around in my head, I was bound and determined ‘he’, he being in my mind, the attorney (what an ignorant fool was I to think in any way that this ‘Council’ gave two shits about his ‘Client’) was going up for twenty and I fiercely lobbied for twenty.

Looking back now, I regret this.

Sincerely regret this.

Fifteen would have sufficed, but I stood firm and played upon the emotions and the exasperation of my fellows and got my wish.

As I said, I regret this now.

We gave him twenty.

Sorry Johnson, wherever you may be.

I am so sorry for tacking on five years for my ego, and only my ego, nothing more.


P.S. Writing this has taken much out of me. I had buried it long ago somewhere never to be felt again.

I hope you enjoyed reading it.

I did not enjoy writing it.


tex flag


BONUS: Just For A Little Levity

Richard Pryor: PRISON

Credit For Video Share: jro211

Oh Mesico! Lance, You Lie: Chapter Six–Note to Self: “Self, Finish The Edit Later”–Some Names Have Been ‘Mortified’ To Protect The Guilty. And, Yes: I Have Been In A Mexican Jail–For Three Glorious Days!

Ed Note on this video: The dude playing lead guitar is Linda’s (Ronstadt) Just so you’d notice I noticed.

“The Folks Back-Home Don’t Really Wanna Talk To Me On-The-Phone”

I Cannot Imagine Why Not

Cred: If You Don’t Know, I Cannot Really Help You


Haters Gonna Hate

Expeditiously Move Them To The Fuk-Off Channel

Shake it Off !

Chapters: One Two Three Four Five


There were a few other escapades no less bizarre during this time, but I won’t recount them here. Like the infamous naked, midnight go-cart ride over and through some very nicely landscaped yards of the Lake Charles rich and famous. Well, rich anyway…

“Don’t start Lance. Get on with the pot smuggling story.”

After several more ‘adventures’ as described above, Kim and I decided we needed to go to McAllen to expedite things with the Mexicans.

We took our partner Kirk with us for balance and also because he had some friends in San Antonio we could hang out with before we drove south to McAllen.

We ended up staying in San Antonio for several weeks before making our way south. Long story why and not particularly exciting, so I’ll skip it.

We arrived in McAllen late one sultry Saturday night and having nothing better to do until morning when we were to hook up with Pablo, we decided to drive into Mexico and visit ‘Boy’s Town’ in Reynosa.

Kim had been there before and told us how the deal worked:

“Before we go, we have to make sure the car is clean. No pot, no guns, no nothing. If we get busted they will put us in jail for a w-h-i-l-e.”

Continue reading

Letter From A South Park Jail

The following is a transcribed letter I wrote to a Significant Other while cooling my heels in Kandahar, trying to get my CAC renewed (Common Access Card: An ID card for Civilians working with the U.S. Military). ‘Southpark’ is, for lack of a better term, A Holding Facility ‘soullessly owned and operated’ by DynCorp International for transients, itinerants, sycophants, miscreants, and other sad and lonely temporarily homeless people just trying to travel through, hoping to land somewhere else sooner than later…

Southpark is understaffed, under-financed, under-achieving, and sometimes underwater. It is also overpopulated, misconceiving, deceiving and just plain infuriating. Southpark will depress you, repress you, digress you, digest you and shit you out (if you allow it). Writing saved me from insanity there.



Saturday 28 July 2012, Camp Dwyer, Afghanistan 1218hrs

Dear Lady,

I’m sitting in the PAX terminal. We boarded the plane, (Sixties-Era, prop job) a couple of hours ago, but they were just kidding. After sitting on the tarmac for about forty five minutes they brought us back here. Seems someone forgot to feed the hamsters which are actually responsible for propelling the plane and consequently, they died. We were told not to worry; they are flying in some fresh, well-fed hamsters from KAF (Kandahar Air Field) and once they get those settled into the plane’s power plant, we will be good to go: wheels up around 1430hrs.

So here I sit, thinking of you, Dubai, and Hamster Avionics.

Continue reading

I am Going To Jail–Who Cares? Who Amongst You Cares? Or Even Gives-A-Shit? I Know, For A Paralyzed Fact, I Would NOT… Care

Unless Your Name Was ‘Peanut’–

Then I would Care–

Bailed Him Out too Many Times..

I Spent Three Days In A Meskin Jail & Four Years In Iraq…Two Years In Afghanistan. Three Years In Sinai–Y’all Think Jail Frightens Me? Or Anything Frightens Me? Think Again My Friends.


There is ONE Thing That Frightens Me:



This is a Work of FICTION! Because I Do Not Know if There is a Statute of Limitations on Arson. Not Any Word of this Story is True. It is ALL FICTION.


That Said, This is Another Madelyn & Lance Tale (Fictional!)

Finally Found My Old Blue Jeans:

Cred for Vid Share: Želimir Lah

Back in the mid – Seventies, Madelyn worked at a joint in Bonham, Texas: ‘Richard’s Jeans’.

She sold jeans and other shit. She loved her part-time job. It was a nice place. I had gone there a few times to see her…

On the 3’rd of July, circa 1974 Madelyn came home almost crying.
I was working on my billiard skills (We had a pool table on the third floor of our ‘apartment’)

Madelyn ran past me, ran into her room and slammed the door.
I took a sip from my Coors beer, then cautiously knocked lightly on her door.

“Go away!” she said.
“Don’t think so,” I said to myself.

I opened the door.

She was sitting on her bed, sobbing.

I sat down next to her.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I have lost my job” she said.

“That asshole Richard fire you? I’ll kill him”
“No! He is closing the store!”

“Oh. Okay. I won’t kill him. At least not today.”
(He paid her shit wages)

To Be Continued….


Has occured to me some may not know of my relationship with Madelyn.


My Most Recent Experience With The Minions of the Commerce Cop Shop… I Love The Commerce PD; They Look Out For Me.

I Will Expand Upon This Later. Probably Much Later. If Ever. So Don’t Hold Your Breath. We Shall See. See you in Jail. Cheers!

Morons Minion’ng Menions (Don’t Mention Minions In My Recent Present Preference Precedent)

Moron 'R'' Us!