I’m So Fricken Stupid… I’ve Misplaced My Mind. Cannot Believe I Actually Wrote This Shite! “Daily Lenny: Judge Aaron Albamiser (sp) And This Has Turned Into a Rant. Sorry…” Well, Fuck Me! Word-De-Pressed Will Not Allow Me to Properly Edit This. Imagine My Surprise!

Shit! This needs to be placed further down, but WordPress is Fukking Stupid. So I am forced to place it here:

Git a Rope

“Cocksucker”

“Two Four Letter Words And A Preposition”

lmfao

P.S., the Fonts in this post ar’ all fucked up. I’m too lazy to fix them. I hope yu can read. If’n Ya wanna….PPS This Post is Rather ZObnoxious and Insulting. If Your Skin Be Thin, Don’t Read It. Just go somewhere else.

****

Judge Aaron Albamiser & Lenny Bruce:
“Thick Fingers and a Homemade Glass Eye.”
“A Red-Headed Junk-yard Jew.”

–Lenny

He Said “Blah Blah Blah”

Friends, Romans, (Progressive Texans) & Others:

(Don’t some of Y’all hate to be classified as ‘Others’?

Smacks of Intellectual Racism to me, but that’s just me.)

Don’t you fain to disclaim?

Me no Alamo!

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

How the fuck does it feel?

To be on the long side of the short fence?

For Real?

Lend Me Your Beers!

(And yer FB password. Trust Me. I’m with the Government.)

Here is your (once again belated) Daily Lenny:

And Thanks for Listening, wherever you are.

Let The Buyer Beware

And now I am gonna step out on a limb and say this:

I am with my Brothers and Sisters in the Ukraine.

Keep your eyes on the prize.

(And I do not speak that flippantly; I mean it. The whole world is watching)

Oh, and thanks for listening (Did I say that already?)

Well hell! Appreciation can never be over-played (if it is sincere)

In this case, rest assur’d it is (“Hey Madge?! Did he mean ‘over-played’ or ‘sincere’? Can never get a ‘read’ on this schmuck.”)

Cheers to all.

And if you’d get a kick reading/hearing more about it, go here:

http://texantales.com/category/lenny-bruce/

Simply because, “An uneducated proletariat is a danger to freedom.”

That is My Lance Quote; I just made it up. But, Goddamn it! I do believe it.

“Aw Shit! Lance dun gone Commie on us!. Git a rope!”

Not at all. Nope. Cool yer Heels Cowboy! Lance just knows something has gone horribly wrong…with His Texas, and more importantly, with His America. It used to be His America.

Now, it seems. It ain’t.

*End of Rant*

If you have come thus far…

Well; you are a Commie!

(Just kidding)

And of course…My National Anthem:

Just for Multi-Media Attention:

If You don’t want to stand in-line…well… REFORM

(If Y’all don’t catch my drift… well then:

I am writing with no ink in my virtual pen.

And the line forms to the right. 

Get in-line!

And have fun.

And y’all thought I was bull-shitting when I posted a previous Rant:

Wake Up Lance!

I was speaking To America.

My America.

Addendum:

I just recently completed a Mark Twain Marathon, by Ken Burns.

“Good for you, Lance Marcom; we are happy you are soooo.. much into (Our) American History…”

I wanted such a telegram, but, alas, there are no telegrams today.

So, it may seem I was born too late…

For such Liberty.

No matter.

WE, We, WE can forge our own liberty, in that same same spirit.

If we have the wherewithal.

Alas, I fear we have not.

We have the Constitution; we have The Law of Our Land; we have Our Precedent…

Alas, we have not the will

The Will, we lack . Today .

This was to be… a simple American Call to Arms.

Alas, I do not know if I am young enuff to muster:

My time has long since past.

I have not the passion to fight yet another war.

Lord knows (and that is a metaphor) I have NOT  the will, nor the strength to fight such a war, yet, I am there, in spirit. I would gladly die for MY Country: My long lost America.

Rebel? Most Certainly.

Rebellious against my country?

Never

Therein lies that dilemma,

Not I! For I am too old, and this kind of business falls to younger men

BUT, when I see the masses, the masses, in squalor, I get pissed.

Really pissed.

When CEO’s in this country make ten thousand times more than the workers…

Well, it upsets me.

(any geographical or grammatical errors are surely mine. I do apologize)

These opinions are solely mine own.

Yet, I welcome our modern-day NSA to come knock on MY DOOR.

I certainly do.

Now…

I can finally be sated (for now)

And…I am gonna continue with this for some few weeks, until I give up…

But, Y’all know, when I get unto a ‘kick’ I hang on.

So…we shall see.

–Lance Out

Wow Lance! THAT was some long-winded RANT!

heheheheh

No Worries: Nobody Read it but The NSA of the USA.

There’s somethin’ happening Here…

 

Wh Dom\n’t This Post Get No Lovve/ It is A fukkink Fun Post! (just don’t drill down too deep; it gets steep) Letters From Iraq: A Day in the Life of a Camp Manager Serving in a War Zone In Eye Rack. (I’ll Finish Editing This Later: Screw it for Now–Sorry)

A Day In My Life:

“But I Just had to Look…

Having Read The Book”

Must I really type out all the lyrics?–

Just Listen to the GD Song

“He Blew His Mind Out In A Car”

Pretty Certain That is How I’ll Go

Oh No!

I Just Hope & Pray to GOD I Don’t Take Anyone Along With Me

For The Ride

Cred: The Beatles DUH!!

*****

An Excerpt from an email I sent from Mosul, late 2008. Victor was a soft-spoken, highly educated and proper gentleman originally from Nigeria. He could not have been more out of place and time. 

I realize this is rather a crude ‘toilet joke’ post, but it is a true story. Regarding ‘dirty words’ and ‘dirty toilet stories’, no one had better commentary on the subject than Lenny Bruce. Please have a listen below.

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.

Lenny Bruce – 1961 arrest for using obscene language

*************

There was another ‘Victor Moment’ during this morning’s meeting with Parsons and my Boys. After I had finished discussing everything I had on today’s agenda I asked if anyone had any issues which needed to be addressed. Usually there are none, but today Victor piped up and said,

“I want to report an incident that causes friction.”

“Now what?” I’m thinking. “Friction?” I said. “Friction’s no good; friction causes fires.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Victor said.

“Oh, of course not… Okay Victor. I’m all ears. What’re you talking about?”

“There must be more respect and decorum in this camp. This morning at the Tetra-Tech meeting, one of the security guys, the big fat one, sat right in front of me and he leaned forward and…’Brrrrruuuuppp!’”

Laughter all around.

“Victor, you mean he farted in your general direction?” I said.

More laughter.

Very serious now, Victor said, “Yes. This was disrespectful. I told the gentleman that this was not good to do this. He turned around and said, ‘No really; it’s good for you.’ I told him I did not appreciate this behavior. There were eye witnesses too. The CRG guys were sitting right next to me.”

Trying to stifle my laughs (and failing), I said, “Any nose witnesses?” Then over the howling laughter of the boys said, “Sorry Vic, couldn’t resist. So, do you want to, uh… file a grievance against this guy?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But I want it on record.”

“Ok Victor. Consider it on record. Hey Dana, would this be considered a health, safety & welfare issue and do we have a form for this kind of… uh, grievance?”

The Boys still giggling.

“I’ll have to look online and get back to you on that one,” Dana said as straight-faced as he could which wasn’t very convincing.

“Ok, please do that.” Then I said to all, “Does anyone else have any ‘incidents’ that require my attention this morning?”

Nope.

“Ok then, Launch!” (Which is how I end all my meetings: I ‘launch’ my Boys off into their work day.)

Later as I was signing out for my walk at the TOC (Tactical Ops Center—Radio Room) with the CRG guys, they told me they had an ‘incident’ to report.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Someone has farted at you, eh?”

Laughter again all around.

“Yes,” Garth said, “Actually not at one of us, but Victor was just in here trying to muster support for his case. Says we’re all witnesses and we will be compelled to provide a written statement.”

“Oh Christ,” I said. “This guy wears me out.”

“Well, we just fucked him off,” Mark said.

Gareth (the Welshman) chimed in, “Yeah, I told him, ‘Hey we’re all just a bunch of blokes working here for fuck’s sake! Take a look at where we work: fuckin’ Iraq. What a wanker!” (Gotta love those Brits)

“Well, I guess the war’s over,” I said.

“What?” Gareth said.

“War must be over if this is the kind of shit we have to worry about. Some people seem to think we’re working on Madison Avenue. Too bad Miss Canada wasn’t here for this. (She had actually been here for a USO Show a week earlier.)

We’d probably be looking at sexual harassment… Well, I’m off on my morning walk-about; gotta keep up my girlish figure ya know. You can call me on Channel One if there are any more wind-breaking developments.” I said as I headed out the door.

I could still hear them laughing and joking about Victor and his complaint as I walked away. I’m sure there will be more to this story. I sincerely hope Victor complains to Baghdad about this. Those guys could use some humor injected into their lives.

Once again, I really can’t make this stuff up.

Don’t have to; it all happened

 

Letters From Iraq: A Day in the Life of a Camp Manager Serving in a War Zone In Eye Rack. (I’ll Finish Editing This Later: Screw it for Now–Sorry)

A Day In My Life:

“But I Just had to Look…

Having Read The Book”

Must I really type out all the lyrics?–

Just Listen to the GD Song

Cred: The Beatles DUH!!

*****

An Excerpt from an email I sent from Mosul, late 2008. Victor was a soft-spoken, highly educated and proper gentleman originally from Nigeria. He could not have been more out of place and time. 

I realize this is rather a crude ‘toilet joke’ post, but it is a true story. Regarding ‘dirty words’ and ‘dirty toilet stories’, no one had better commentary on the subject than Lenny Bruce. Please have a listen below.

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.

Lenny Bruce – 1961 arrest for using obscene language

*************

There was another ‘Victor Moment’ during this morning’s meeting with Parsons and my Boys. After I had finished discussing everything I had on today’s agenda I asked if anyone had any issues which needed to be addressed. Usually there are none, but today Victor piped up and said,

“I want to report an incident that causes friction.”

“Now what?” I’m thinking. “Friction?” I said. “Friction’s no good; friction causes fires.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Victor said.

“Oh, of course not… Okay Victor. I’m all ears. What’re you talking about?”

“There must be more respect and decorum in this camp. This morning at the Tetra-Tech meeting, one of the security guys, the big fat one, sat right in front of me and he leaned forward and…’Brrrrruuuuppp!’”

Laughter all around.

“Victor, you mean he farted in your general direction?” I said.

More laughter.

Very serious now, Victor said, “Yes. This was disrespectful. I told the gentleman that this was not good to do this. He turned around and said, ‘No really; it’s good for you.’ I told him I did not appreciate this behavior. There were eye witnesses too. The CRG guys were sitting right next to me.”

Trying to stifle my laughs (and failing), I said, “Any nose witnesses?” Then over the howling laughter of the boys said, “Sorry Vic, couldn’t resist. So, do you want to, uh… file a grievance against this guy?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But I want it on record.”

“Ok Victor. Consider it on record. Hey Dana, would this be considered a health, safety & welfare issue and do we have a form for this kind of… uh, grievance?”

The Boys still giggling.

“I’ll have to look online and get back to you on that one,” Dana said as straight-faced as he could which wasn’t very convincing.

“Ok, please do that.” Then I said to all, “Does anyone else have any ‘incidents’ that require my attention this morning?”

Nope.

“Ok then, Launch!” (Which is how I end all my meetings: I ‘launch’ my Boys off into their work day.)

Later as I was signing out for my walk at the TOC (Tactical Ops Center—Radio Room) with the CRG guys, they told me they had an ‘incident’ to report.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Someone has farted at you, eh?”

Laughter again all around.

“Yes,” Garth said, “Actually not at one of us, but Victor was just in here trying to muster support for his case. Says we’re all witnesses and we will be compelled to provide a written statement.”

“Oh Christ,” I said. “This guy wears me out.”

“Well, we just fucked him off,” Mark said.

Gareth (the Welshman) chimed in, “Yeah, I told him, ‘Hey we’re all just a bunch of blokes working here for fuck’s sake! Take a look at where we work: fuckin’ Iraq. What a wanker!” (Gotta love those Brits)

“Well, I guess the war’s over,” I said.

“What?” Gareth said.

“War must be over if this is the kind of shit we have to worry about. Some people seem to think we’re working on Madison Avenue. Too bad Miss Canada wasn’t here for this. (She had actually been here for a USO Show a week earlier.)

We’d probably be looking at sexual harassment… Well, I’m off on my morning walk-about; gotta keep up my girlish figure ya know. You can call me on Channel One if there are any more wind-breaking developments.” I said as I headed out the door.

I could still hear them laughing and joking about Victor and his complaint as I walked away. I’m sure there will be more to this story. I sincerely hope Victor complains to Baghdad about this. Those guys could use some humor injected into their lives.

Once again, I really can’t make this stuff up.

 

I AM TRYIN’ To Clean Up My Potty Mouth. Shit! I even Chewed on a bar of soap for fifteen mins! Obscenity, Vulgarity, Dirty Words, and Toilets. Never my intend to offend. But Sometimes, I Just Cannot Help Myself. I’m working on that. Really Working On That.

Pondering The Possibility Of Soap In Mouth:

*****

So Blessed I Don’t Have Kids.

(That I Know Of)

I am no Role Model.

Credit: Supernanny

******

 

“He cusses like a sailor.”

Lance is a sailor, ergo Lance cusses (in writing and in speech)

Lenny was a sailor, ergo Lenny cussed.

Please take a listen to Lenny’s take on ‘dirty words.’  

    

buyer beware  

More Lenny Here:  http://texantales.com/category/lenny-bruce/

Did I Recently Re-Post This? Screw It! Here It Is Again! Slightly Expanded ‘TA’ Does Not Always Mean ‘Tits an’ Ass’

A Chorus Line (1985) – Dance: Ten, Looks:

****************

I cannot find my Gladys Lehanni Post.

Give me time…

Arrived Tel Aviv one afternoon Late ‘78. Soon to be Stoned, Dazed and Confused and Somewhat Abused. One of my fellow SFM drivers, Perry, a good bud of mine, had convoyed with me through the Sinai Desert and into TA. Each of us driving deuce and a’halfs and at dangerous, reckless speeds.

We checked into the Pal Hotel which SFM had migrated to after the New Sheraton had made it plain they no longer desired nor needed the patronage of Sinai Field Mission Types, specifically the Texan ones–Which made up about 88 Percent of Sinai Field Mission Personnel.

I/We, preferred the Pal Hotel anyway. (They loved us and our fun-loving ways and how we were always, without fail, Big Tippers to The Hotel Staff)

“Fuck You Uptight Sheraton New Hotel!”

(This sentiment was unanimous amongst all-of-us-Texan Expats)

Of course for both of you Lenny Fans out there in ‘Radio Land’  I just had to drop this audio bit in. It really is not germane (nor certainly not German) to the point, but it do expand on the title somewhat.

It occurred to me that when using the term ‘Tits an’ Ass” some would not know the etymology. Lenny first coined the phrase. (Bless his heart).  He did some jail time too… for his transgressions.

So…when I first arrived to SFM and folks would talk of TA, imagine my confusion.

Lenny Bruce audio below ‘Tits and Ass’

Worth a listen

After settling in, Perry called me from his room, “Hey Lance. Got anything goin’ tonight?”

“Nope,” I replied. “Not a damn thing. You know Gladys done dumped me for that Venzu-walon dude.”

(Some Histoire on Gladys — Or as Bart Armstrong Called her: “Happy Butt”): 

First Israeli Love. Her name was Gladys Lehani and she spoke French, English, Hebrew, and Lies. I was instantly enamored. She worked nights at the Tel Aviv Sheraton in the ‘Kum Kum’ Lounge, a bar. During the afternoons she was a cashier in the little lobby area of the hotel. A place where one could look out the huge windows at the Mediterranean, have a cocktail, read a book, and flirt with her. I spent many hours there doing all four.

“Come on up to my room.” Perry said, “We’ll smoke a bowl.”

“On my way,” I said and hung up. We smoked a few bowls of hashish,

(All we could get in The Middle of The Fucking East–Which we would have Killed For In Texas, But after a few Years of NOTHING But Hashish, We Missed Good Old, Old-Fashion Pot)

drank some Amstels, and decided to head over to Dizengoff Street to check out the action. And sate some munchies. Just yet another night in TA.

dizengoff-cafe

Dizengoff Cafe

We stepped out onto Hayarkon Street just after sundown and proceeded to float on toward Dizengoff, a few short blocks away. We were stoned beyond repair. As we tried to navigate across the busy Hayarkon four lane, we noticed more than the average number of folk on foot. As soon as we had arrived on the leeward shore of Hayarkon, a teenage girl came running up to us and smacked us both on the top of our heads with a little plastic mallet. Then said something unintelligible in Hebrew and ran giggling away.

“What the fuck was that?!” I asked Perry.

“Dude, I gots no idea, but look yonder!” he said pointing up the street. Sure as shit, there were people everywhere; all armed with similar plastic mallets, just wailing the shit outta each other’s heads.

“Dude! We gotta sort this out. This is just too weird. Must be some kinda religious ritual.” This is what my hashish soaked brain was telling me anyway. We made our way to Dizengoff, after having our heads bonked repeatedly by overzealous religious fanatics. I spied a street vendor displaying the plastic mallets with aplomb.

“Perry, we gots to git one ah them for self-defense.” We purchased one each and went to whackin’ pretty Sabras about the head. (Great way to meet women, I must confess—Kinda Neanderthal—but what the hell?) Later I was told we had experienced some joyful Israeli Halloween-Like festival. Mardi Gras, it weren’t but dammit! I had fun. (But I didn’t get any beads)

Nor Did I get laid that night, In spite of me whacking the heads of so many Pretty Sabras.

To this day, I do not know the holiday, or festival. Are there any out there who would care to enlighten me? Tis one-of-those-unknown-things that still haunt me today. Perhaps if I had not been stoned…

banner_purim_sm[1]

Purim

My Jewish Friends: Was it Purim I had experienced? My enquirin’ mind really do wanna know.

 

TITS AND ASS BIT: LENNY