I am an arrogant Texan, but I love Lenny Bruce. A man just about as far from removed from Texan as one could ever be. (Except maybe George Bush the Elder)
Lenny was no friend to Texas or Texans
The Scar He Was So Proud Of
LBJ: (Or “Southern Speech, Or At Least What Passes for ‘Speech’)
Thanks Lenny
The Real Scar
R.I.P.
Please listen (and comment)
(If you never listen to any other Lenny Bruce, Please listen to this one)
Bob (The Most Interesting Man in Iraq) is my life-long frin…
I miss his dumb ass (and ‘dumb-ass’ is a term of endearment where I come from)
If one is lucky, really lucky, one meets maybe one, two, or three or four people in life that transcend funny.
Bob is one such ‘transcendent’ lucky for me.
He saved my fragile sanity.
**************
My mechanic (Of Parsons Mechanic fame) came by to have some ‘chat’ with me:
The most Interesting Mechanic in the World
“Way’ll… I have a natch’ral disaster on my hands.”
“Ok Bob,” I said, “I’m ‘bout to bust with anticipation.”
“Yep. A natch’ral disaster.”
“You mentioned that already.”
“A real-life natch’ral calamity.”
“Do I have time to go to chow while you go through your preamble?”
Ignoring me, he continued, “That Six Kay (‘6K’ as in six thousand pound lifting capacity) forklift is all a-pieces. hamorr’agin’ parts all over th’ place. The Boys (Filipino mechanics times two) tol’ me it was the fuel injector pump. So, I kin’ly smiled and said ‘Okaaay…,’ and let ‘em go at it. They need ta learn how ta fix thangs without me onct in ah’while. Well, they dun got tha’ forklift tore all ta pieces. Now, I dun give ‘em all mornin’ to dick ‘round with it, an’ I’m gonna give ‘em all this aftr’noon to dick ‘round with it some more. Then first thing tomorra, I’m gonna ask ‘em, ‘Boys, how come that forklift ain’t a-workin’ this fine morning?’”
“I’m hip Let’s keep it real.”
“Your ‘personnel management style’ is showing Bob,” I said.
“Yeah, whatever… An’ tomorra’s Thursday. An’ day after that’s Friday. An’ I ain’t doin’ nothin’ on Friday. Tomorra, we gonna start our dee-cent inta th’ day off.”
“Kinda start slowin’ ‘er down ‘round mid-noon time, eh?” I said. (I can do ‘Southern’ just as slick as you please when I want to.)
“X-actly. We start double-clutchin’ and dee-celeratin’ an’ bring her in nice and slow like.”
“And what about my forklift?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“She’s all ‘In’shalah’d’ out Boss.”
“Dead in the water?”
“Tits up.”
“Broke dick?”
“Send her saddle home.”
“I need to call Baghdad?”
“She ain’t lookin’ none too fav’erble.”
“Call HQ an’ tell ‘em we need another forklift?”
“Now, jes hol’ on. Doan git ’em all wadded jes yet.”
“Ok. I got it. Thanks.”
“We’re Parsons’ Mechanics an’ jes watch how we roll,” he said on his way out the door.
I love my job.
I have a “Ten Kay” forklift that still works. So I should be alright for now. Besides, Bob just loves the drama and we do this little dance every time there is a crisis in the motor pool.
If I were a betting man (And actually I am) I’d wager two of my pay checks that come Friday if that 6K forklift is still down, he’ll be out there bright and early with his boys working on it until it is repaired even if it means giving up his day off.
I’ve seen him do that already too many times over the past year and a half he has worked for me. There is no man made of better stuff. An’ he sure do entertain. Yessir, he certainly does. And I’d never have been able to keep the operation afloat without him.
I love all my crew and wouldn’t trade a single one of them for a pile of cash money or a case of Johnny Walker Black with the authorization to drink it.
Feetnote to this story:
After I had been in Mosul for a month, running that camp, they sent me Bob.
Upon seeing him get off the chopper, I ran over and kissed him (not on-the-lips–he is a disgusting individual) But I needed him! To help me run the Goddamn Camp And I had sorely missed him in my life.
This song is dedicated to Bob, wherever he may be:
“Me An’ Paul”… Er… “Bob”
“Well, It’s Been Rough an’ Rocky Travellin’,
But I’m Finally Standin’ Up-Right On The Ground”
HELL TO THE HELL YEAH!
OK: Ed. Note:
Y’all gotta love how ‘Texan’ this vid is—look at the ‘ensign‘-Texan Flags-behind the sage, er…stage.
(and if you look really close–for you guitar players out there–you will notice the hole in the guitar. Willie tells some stories ’bout the gee-tar. He tells one about a drunken party with Leon Russell in a hotel room, when Leon almost broke it. Willie, in classic form, invited Leon to stop touching that guitar.)
Today’s Daily Lenny is about Uncle Earl, Guv’na of the Great State of Louisiana.
Now…
Uncle Earl was nuts; that is why we lovedUncle Earl. Especially us Texans loved Uncle Earl, because he was just like our Governors: Whacked Out. Only wors’er.
“If Louisiana eventually elects Duke (David Duke) governor, don’t expect any sympathy from Texas. They sent us one of their barmy governors once before—Earl Long, who was Huey’s crazy brother. Earl finally got so bad his own family shipped him off to a nuthouse in Galveston. We kept him for six weeks and then let him go; he looked like a perfectly normal governor to us.”
On Donald Trump! (Kids, this is the audio you need to listen to. Yes, the names have been changed to protect the guilty) Click the little arrow and follow the Orange Hair Road to Perdition.
Harry
Once Again…
I throw this in (I already paid for it)
Why NOT?
Too tired…but y’all know the thrill drilll… more lenny here: