*BREAKING BAD NEWS!* (CNN is the Best Comedy Show On Television, Bar None–And it is even better watching while drunk or stoned, or le both)

Laughing at CNN is one of my favorite joyful mindless diversions:

Exclusively Here on TT & Hiero-Glyph!

That means you won’t hear it anywhere else! (Because we made it up)

The Results are finally in from yesterday’s, recent,  last week’s election!

Okay was not last week; just seems that way.

Here are the tallies:

Jim Morrison: 20, 000

He is an Accident Going Somewhere to Happen: 20, 001

Walk of Shame: 20,010

The Kind and Good and the Ugly Moral Folks: 20,005

Puddles in My Beer: 0

Now, after some contentiousness, and some hanging chaffs, and some fourteen pissed off, and some sixteen or so pissed on, and some countless bored, and some dead armadillos, and some more hanging chaff, it was decided that the vote went unanimously to:

PUDDLES IN MY BEER!!

(And the crowd went nuts)

“But, but, but, how is that unanimous?” One pollster inquired.

“Because Son,” The State said, “Because theirs was the only un-contested, not so much molested, unambiguous result.”

“Oh.”

Now before we exposé the PUDDLES IN MY BEER platform (gangplank), we must survive the Inauguration Ball.

And here to help us along with that, May I present to Y’all, our most ardent (and redundant) supporters!

Willie And The William’s Boys!

Take it away Boys!

Thanks to Willie an’ Them For that Rather Upbeat Rendition of …what was it again? *taps Willie on the shoulder* “Uh Willie, ya fucked the lyric: it is “Puddles In My Beer”; not ‘bubbles’, get it right fer fuck sake… Goin’ to Austin…I mean DC. Aw shit. Never mind! Just get the damn song right, OK?”

And Thank You Both Hanks for that rather unifying ditty in honor of the forgotten, vanquished.

But now, to prove we are not all that…uh… sanctimonious.

We give some equal / air time to the losers, er, Honorable Opposition:

Take it away Jimmy!

But don’t take it too far or  too long. We are watching you. Loser!

“Uh… Thank you…uh what was your name again? Oh yeah, Jimmy.

Well, Hey! Let’s give a big round of applause for…uh Jimmy and his comedy!”

“Thank you Johnny!”

Tomorrow (Or Next Beer) we will tell you the plan forward.

Hang tight in the meantime.

We love our Country!

(don’t we?)

Didn’t we?

orig flag

Bonus Round

Lenny On Fake News:

True Grit Redux

This is, I think the third post I ever published.

Thought I would resurrect it for some who may not have seen it, as it is buried deep in the archives. And not that it is particularly that good, but is is all I have, waiting on Thursday…

(And because I am working on a new project, but it is not yet ready)

True Grit (Or, Almost a Cowboy, Or, What You Will)

Thanks for reading.

*****

Being a Native Texan, I decided to become a ‘Real Cowboy’ in the late Summer of ’70, as opposed to being a ‘ranch hand’, which by the way is different and which, by the way, I was actually pretty damn good at a couple of years later. I’m talking ‘bout haulin’ hay, buildin’ fence (BoB Whar—Texan pronunciation), drivin’ tractors, feedin’ cows; chasin’ cowgirls, drinkin’ whiskey, you know: that sort of thing. But actually before I found my niche in western employment, I did dream of riding the open range astride a great galloping beast.

cowboy

Here is how “that worked out for me.”

Madelyn had a horse once: a cross between a Shetland pony and a Welsh mare. Now, I really don’t know much about horses and during that time I knew even less, but I really did want to play cowboy, so I decided to make friends with the local “real cowboy” and have him teach me how to ride this animal. I was about twelve going on thirteen at the time.

The problem with this horse was that it was a pet. Madelyn had talked my father into buying it for her not long after she and her mom moved in (I was not yet on the scene; was still living with my grandparents.

I suppose I arrived some months after the horse). Anyway, she soon lost interest in Gretchen (is that a proper horse name?) hence, she (Gretchen) never ever got ridden; (I cannot speak for Madelyn.) This will become important later in my story.

Not long after making friends with said local cowboy (he was sixteen, much older and wiser…well, older anyhow) James Griffin, (Funny how I still remember his name.) we went to the pasture, which was actually inside the city limits of Honey Grove and took damn near an hour just to catch this beast. Gretchen did not apparently, want anything to do with cowboys, experienced or neophyte. Once we had her, James proceeded to teach me how the saddle and all the other kit went together. He grumbled something under his breath about the “hackamore” bridle I had provided along with the saddle that he was none too impressed with either. I told him that this was all the gear my step-sister had in our garage, and what was the problem,

“This stuff is brand new,” I said. (And of course, I was NOT wearing my varnished boots)

“Never mind,” he said while showing me how to mount the horse. He told me I always had to mount from-the-left-side. I asked him why, and he said that is what the horse expects. I certainly was all about living up to that horse’s expectations, so I did as instructed.

Continue reading

*BREAKING BAD NEWS!*

Exclusively Here on TT & Hiero-Glyph!

That means you won’t hear it anywhere else! (Because we made it up)

The Results are finally in from yesterday’s, recent,  last week’s election!

Okay was not last week; just seems that way.

Here are the tallies:

Jim Morrison: 20, 000

He is an Accident Going Somewhere to Happen: 20, 001

Walk of Shame: 20,010

The Kind and Good and the Ugly Moral Folks: 20,005

Puddles in My Beer: 0

Now, after some contentiousness, and some hanging chaffs, and some fourteen pissed off, and some sixteen or so pissed on, and some countless bored, and some dead armadillos, and some more hanging chaff, it was decided that the vote went unanimously to:

PUDDLES IN MY BEER!!

(And the crowd went nuts)

“But, but, but, how is that unanimous?” One pollster inquired.

“Because Son,” The State said, “Because theirs was the only un-contested, not so much molested, unambiguous result.”

“Oh.”

Now before we exposé the PUDDLES IN MY BEER platform (gangplank), we must survive the Inauguration Ball.

And here to help us along with that, May I present to Y’all, our most ardent (and redundant) supporters!

Willie And The William’s Boys!

Take it away Boys!

Thanks to Willie an’ Them For that Rather Upbeat Rendition of …what was it again? *taps Willie on the shoulder* “Uh Willie, ya fucked the lyric: it is “Puddles In My Beer”; not ‘bubbles’, get it right fer fuck sake… Goin’ to Austin…I mean DC. Aw shit. Never mind! Just get the damn song right, OK?”

And Thank You Both Hanks for that rather unifying ditty in honor of the forgotten, vanquished.

But now, to prove we are not all that…uh… sanctimonious.

We give some equal / air time to the losers, er, Honorable Opposition:

Take it away Jimmy!

But don’t take it too far or  too long. We are watching you. Loser!

“Uh… Thank you…uh what was your name again? Oh yeah, Jimmy.

Well, Hey! Let’s give a big round of applause for…uh Jimmy and his comedy!”

“Thank you Johnny!”

Tomorrow (Or Next Beer) we will tell you the plan forward.

Hang tight in the meantime.

We love our Country!

(don’t we?)

Didn’t we?

orig flag

True Grit Redux

This is, I think the third post I ever published.

Thought I would resurrect it for some who may not have seen it, as it is buried deep in the archives. And not that it is particularly that good, but is is all I have, waiting on Thursday…

(And because I am working on a new project, but it is not yet ready)

True Grit (Or, Almost a Cowboy, Or, What You Will)

Thanks for reading.

*****

Being a Native Texan, I decided to become a ‘Real Cowboy’ in the late Summer of ’70, as opposed to being a ‘ranch hand’, which by the way is different and which, by the way, I was actually pretty damn good at a couple of years later. I’m talking ‘bout haulin’ hay, buildin’ fence (BoB Whar—Texan pronunciation), drivin’ tractors, feedin’ cows; chasin’ cowgirls, drinkin’ whiskey, you know: that sort of thing. But actually before I found my niche in western employment, I did dream of riding the open range astride a great galloping beast.

cowboy

Here is how “that worked out for me.”

Madelyn had a horse once: a cross between a Shetland pony and a Welsh mare. Now, I really don’t know much about horses and during that time I knew even less, but I really did want to play cowboy, so I decided to make friends with the local “real cowboy” and have him teach me how to ride this animal. I was about twelve going on thirteen at the time.

The problem with this horse was that it was a pet. Madelyn had talked my father into buying it for her not long after she and her mom moved in (I was not yet on the scene; was still living with my grandparents.

I suppose I arrived some months after the horse). Anyway, she soon lost interest in Gretchen (is that a proper horse name?) hence, she (Gretchen) never ever got ridden; (I cannot speak for Madelyn.) This will become important later in my story.

Not long after making friends with said local cowboy (he was sixteen, much older and wiser…well, older anyhow) James Griffin, (Funny how I still remember his name.) we went to the pasture, which was actually inside the city limits of Honey Grove and took damn near an hour just to catch this beast. Gretchen did not apparently, want anything to do with cowboys, experienced or neophyte. Once we had her, James proceeded to teach me how the saddle and all the other kit went together. He grumbled something under his breath about the “hackamore” bridle I had provided along with the saddle that he was none too impressed with either. I told him that this was all the gear my step-sister had in our garage, and what was the problem,

“This stuff is brand new,” I said. (And of course, I was NOT wearing my varnished boots)

“Never mind,” he said while showing me how to mount the horse. He told me I always had to mount from-the-left-side. I asked him why, and he said that is what the horse expects. I certainly was all about living up to that horse’s expectations, so I did as instructed.

Continue reading