Natalie Would, If She Could… Have Me! How Many times Have I Re-Posted This One? Screw it! Read It Again. I am Over-Proud of it! “Tonight Tonight!” (Tried to Edit it. But Guess What? WordPress is STUPID!!)

“Call Me But ‘Love’ And I’ll Be New Baptized”

 

Premise of a Promise… 

Straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

(But of course, you’d know that.)

And know this too: Lance is in-love with being in-love—Just gotta find the right girl…. ‘Tis a life-long quest. Kinda like the search for the Holy Grail.

 

“O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable…”

And, surprise! I wrote a paper on this as well.

For University.

Got an A-Plus.

Then I moved in with my Prof, My Shakespeare Prof.

Got a B-Minus on that endeavor.

My Goal ‘Tonight’ is to catch up.

Yep

To catch up with my blogging friends.

I aim (good Texan verb, ‘aim’) to read and comment on one thousand! Posts! Shazam!! “Gall Eee Sargent Carter!”

Gomers found here

gomer-1-and-gomette-2

Amman Jordan, 2007 Me and Gommett

 

Now of course even y’all Yankees out there recognize that as hyperbole at best and bullshit at real.

Only people who use WP Reader can even ‘like’ a thousand posts a night with the simple-minded click of a simple-minded mouse. And Hell! It ain’t the mouse that is simple. It’s the mouse driver.

So, I just say: I will try (jes’ as soon as I post this here post) to get to readin’ ‘stead of writin’.

This is my goal and it is an honorable one. I may get to fifteen, but my likes and my comments are the real deal… so take that with some grain of… humble

And yes, I hope to prosper by my efforts (i.e.,  get more of y’all to read MY shit—tit for tat, eh? Yeah, that is what it is all about, ain’t it, Alfie?

Tits.

Yep

Tits and tats

Or, my personal favorite:

Tits and ass

It is always about tits yet, I am a ‘leg and ass man.’ Go figger her figure…

Cheers Y’all

And I will be seeing you in all the familiar places (That is a song! Get yer minds outta them gutters, fer fuck sake!)

Here Dear:

Vid credit:

warholsoup100

Cheers Again,

Lancers

***

Since I seem to have swerved back into my Nat Wood kick….

And no. Nat did NOT do her own singing.

But, Y’all knew that too.

It was this Fine Lady:

Marni Nixon

Classically trained, Ms. Nixon was throughout the 1950s and ’60s the unseen — and usually uncredited — singing voice of the stars in a spate of celebrated Hollywood films. She dubbed Deborah Kerr in “The King and I,” Natalie Wood in “West Side Story” and Audrey Hepburn in “My Fair Lady,” among many others.

Cred: I don’t remember from Where I stole This From….

Braum’s Vern. Braum’s. Know Whut I mean?

I Love This Moron!

Video Construction Cred: KP2013Rules

****

Jim Varney studied Shakespeare at the Barter Theater in Abingdon, Virginia. Most folks don’t know he began his career as a Thespian. He is of course, most remembered for portraying ‘Earnest’ in hundreds of commercials during the Eighties and Nineties. (And for a few horrible movies based on the same character)

I caught my first “Know-what-I-mean-Vern” commercial while living in Nacogdoches, Texas. Instant Bromance. It was for Braum’s. I loved Braum’s. They absolutely did make the best burgers in all of Christendom. And their ice cream weren’t bad neither.

Some may think performing Southern Humor is easy, simple, and formulaic. I guess if based on Larry-The-Cable-Guy, or Foxworthy–‘you-just-might-be-a-redneck” or any number of clones of same–you’d be correct.

Not that I am saying these gents don’t have talent and a mass appeal, but if you listen to the likes of Brother Dave Gardner or Kinky Friedmam and The Texas Jewboys, or even Lewis Grizzard you might come away with a new-found love of a Southern humor that is truly funny on top of being cerebral, philosophical, and just a mite bit more poignant—and lasting.

To me, comedy is serious business. And yes, I am rather a snob about it–Please don’t shoot me; I’m only the piano-player in this joint.

Feel free to post some comments about your favorite comics and why you love ‘em. Or, if you prefer, why I am full of shit. If you list Lenny Bruce, I will send you a free life-time pass to any theme park of your choice and a Mickey Mouse pencil sharpener. “Lance! Leave Lenny out of it! He was from New-York-City fer Chrissakes!”

Git a rope.

“Oh yeah? So was Jerry Jeff Walker, but y’all dun forgave him, din’t ya?”

If you are not familiar with Varney, please take five minutes and watch this collage. If you are familiar, I believe you will enjoy revisiting his humor. Ya see? The Eighties were not completely devoid of culture.

Thank you for reading (and watching). I appreciate your time. Know whut I mean?

“You Might Wanna Have That Analyzed”

“This Family Hasn’t Drawn A Sober Breath Since The G’Damn Potato Famine.”

Yeah, That is John Prine In This Clip.

Just a “Fun Fact”

Out On Some Limb… Clinging to a Branch-True Texan Style

0413_DixieChicks_TMPost1.jpg

Here is Lance: ON the Record. (and on a rant; a long overdue rant)

I do not give two warm cups of spit, ‘Bout the politics of the Dixie Chicks. But I love them. They are all… Texas. And, after-all, Home-Grown. Hey! Texas! Git over it! Texas was built upon the backs of strong wimmens… Jes sayin’. Y’all know this (Texas!)

I love everything which pukes itself from Texas. Even them Dixie Chicks. I stood by them then. I stand by them now.

Watch the vid,  then tell me there ain’t no Texan Talent There.

Dare ya! (‘Tis a fight I will join–try me!). But, bring the big guns. I will  debate you up, if ya don’t. I have some ducks all rowed up. 

And y’all know… well, ya know, I am just joking (’bout the guns) This is a fight, I will only join in the vestiges of parlay… and discourse. (Seems I have grown a… well, I still have some fight in me, for certain ‘issues’–this being one.)

Cheers!

Lance (True lover of Texas Women) Lord knows I have known many (Biblical sense and otherwise, sidewise sense), and they all, to a woman, scared the ever-loving shit outta me.

That is their nature (and how they roll)

“Don’t Mess With Texas” (Women)

Trust me on this one Y’all.

(And yes I know, Nat is the only ‘Native Texan’ in the group, but the band was birth’d in Dallas)

Dallas sometimes gets lucky that way.

Still tryin’ To make up for JFK.

 

End of Rant

And it all leads into my Shonnie story…

(And, I really, like, commas, comma)

I love Texas!

I really do.

tex flag

“Contrash” this with Lenny

Just saying…

I LOVE YOU EMILY… JUST SAYIN’.

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

Fun Fact: The dude playing the mandolin is Nat’s Daddy: Lloyd Maines

(See above embedded vid–“Wide Open Spaces.”)

*********

Now, I ain’t sayin’ The Stud is ‘Feminine’—

He DID Produce a VERY STRONG 

Texan Woman!

I just love this song!

So, as is my wont,

I drop it in.

Just for grins.

********

Bonus

(for anyone who is bored and likes to

“Read-More-About -It”:)

https://www.texasmonthly.com/articles/yall-in-the-family/

*********

Yeah! I am a feminist!

(But only for Texas Wimmens)

I LOVE Texan Women.

Have I ever mentioned this?

Git Over it!

Texan Girl Power!

I love The (Dixie) Chicks!

(Figger That One Out Yet?)

***********

If you wanna engage me in a

Flame War

(That You Will Sure-As-Shit Certainly Lose…)

Attack Them.

Feel Free!

It’s your virtual life.

After All

“They Opened Their Mouths & OUT Came Talk! Talk! Talk! They Used to Have Faces! I am BIG! It’s the Pictures that got Small!” Some Lenny Included too!

Today’s Daily Lenny

Message Movies:

“Miami Beach is where neon goes to die.”
–Lenny

Lenny on stage

Natalie Wood

A More Beautiful Woman…Cannot Even Imagine.

Thanks for stopping by.

More Lenny Here:

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

‘TA’ Does Not Necessarily Always Mean ‘Tits an’ Ass’ My Mind Has Gone Astray–

Wandered Off Into The Wilderness. Someone, Anyone, Please Join The Search Party. I Need My Mind Back. I Was Kinda Trying To Use It.

I’d Love to Drop In More Vids, Bit It Ain’t Worth It

I Just Wanna Die in Peace

***

I Have Lost My Mind.

If Anyone Finds It And Returns It To Me–There Will Be A Substantial Re-Ward.

Trust Me:

I’m With The Government.

I Miss My Mind.

I Kinda Use It Ever’ Onct-in-a While.

I cannot find my Gladys Lehanni Post.

Whoops! Found It!

Give me time…

Arrived Tel Aviv one afternoon Late ‘78.–Sure to be Alone.  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.”

 

his 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

Slightly Expanded. But Still Stupid–I Am Stupid. Yet I Have Never Claimed To Possess Any Bit of Discernible Intelligence.

TA’ Does Not Always Necessarily Mean ‘Tits an’ Ass'” Happy Belated Purim! Is-Rail Is REAL!

I Love Jewish Culture.

“If I Were A Rich Man”

Sadly, I Am Not!

Shit!

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