Yes! Yes! Yes! I Know! I Only Very Recently Posted This, But I Am Sorely Missing The Wonderful Times I Spent In The Middle East. “How old are you?” – “Three wars, and still growing.”

Such A Beautiful, Intelligent Young Lady! 

Yasmeen El Khoudary

Put your money on the table; drive it off the lot.

Five A.M., It’s me again

Yasmeen put her money on the table.

Bravo to Her! I Wish to someday be that brave:

Me: Mister Navy Wanna-Be SEAL Man!

I Am A Joke Compared To Her.

Merely a façade

Cred: for above  and below– Sara Naim Khatib & Yasmeen El Khoudary (Oh, And Some Dude Named ‘Boz)

Yes. I am stupid! And convoluted.

*****

As this (below) is a blogspot blog, I could not re-blog. So I did the next best thing: cut and paste a bit.

CNN was interviewing Yasmeen El Khoudary, the author of the blog, “Gaza Out of the Blue.” The ‘crack(d)’ CNN news duo, talking heads, apparently got bored or pissed at her (she  was giving them some grief over their stupid questions, and rightfully so), and CNN cut her off.

And Eventually only broadcasting half the interview.

Fuck You CNN!

Only FOX could have done worse.

gaza out of the blue

Anyway, I managed to get her name and thus found her blog, which I am honored to be able to share below:

*********

To a child in Gaza:

– “How old are you?”

– “Three wars, and still growing.”

– Sara Naim Khatib

“Gaza Out of the Blue”  may be found below:

You’ll have to scroll down a bit for the ‘English’

http://yelkhoudary.blogspot.com/2014/07/morning-hallucinations-from-gaza.html

“Morning hallucinations from Gaza هلوسات ساعات القصف الاولى”

Five A.M., It’s me again

 

******

“It’s 5:00 AM in Gaza and I’m unable to sleep. I pick up my book and read under the window, catching the lazy sun rays, given that we haven’t had electricity for about 35 hours by now. I happen to be reading “Kafka on the Seashore.” A few pages through, I find myself reading:

“The glittering airplane we saw way up in the sky reminded us for a moment of the war, but just for a short time, and we were all in a good mood. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, no wind, and everything was quite around us- all we could hear were birds chirping in the woods. The war seemed like something in a faraway land that had nothing to do with us. We sang songs as we hiked up the hill, sometimes imitating the birds we heard. Except for the fact that the war was still going on, it was a perfect morning.”

I thought for a moment of the ‘humanitarian ceasefire’ that was due to start in about 3 hours. Would the same paragraph apply to the young children who by now are too accustomed to the chirping of planes and the terrible songs of war? Would they be able to forget all that and remember the chirping of birds and the children’s songs for the duration of the humanitarian ceasefire?”

***

Please follow the link above to read the rest.

See her here

Below!

Yes! WordPress is Stupid!!

Wanted this at the top!

Alas!

Was not to be!

For me!

CNN is complete, and Utter Bullshit!

I HATE CNN!

And ‘Hate’ is NOT Generally A Word Used In My Vernacular–

Requires Strong Emotion in Me to Drag it Out.

I Keep CNN in my Hip Pocket,

Because They Often Find a Way To Liberate My Hate.

Thank You CNN.

Azzholes!

Re-Edited. Sorry! (Not Really Sorry–This is MY Blog–I Am Allowed To Shit-Post All-I-Want) “Hydration!”

Y’all Know–If You Have ‘Read’ Me, I Have Spent A Lot of My ‘Adult’ Years Living In Middle-Eastern Deserts. I Re-Learned Some Valuable Lessons While There…”

***

Joni Mitchell – Cool Water (With Willie Nelson)

“We won’t last long without water”–

So…

Here is a clue and a nickle:

First The Clue: Drink lots of water

Now The Nickle: STOP Polluting Our Water!

Water is a Blessing From The God I Do Not Believe in,

Yet, None-the-Less…

I Thank GOD For…

Water!

***

DRINK WATER SONG For Kids 🚰

🎶 | Songs for Kids | Lingokids

“Always Stay Well-Hydrated”–

Navy SEAL Instructors Taught Me That.

Well, Actually Only Re-Enforced What I Already Knew

This is Precisely Why…

For Every Glass Of Wine I Imbibe…

I Immediately Consume Two Glasses Of Water.

Keeps Me ‘Functional’…

“Add your Thoughts Here…”

WordPress Prompts.

OKay WP, Here is My One Thought:

(And, Yes! WP, You Only Are Only Allowed One)

Thought Numero Uno:

“WP! You SUCK!”

That Suit Ya?!

Groovy!

Have A Nice Day!

Middle (Of Thee) East

I Have Expended Far Too Many Years Of My Life…

In The Middle East (Which I Love)

War! What is it Good For?

Absolutely Nothing!

Spoken Like A ‘True War Veteran.’

C’est Moi—Your “Humble Servant’ Sick-O-Phant!

Cred: Hikma History

***

Cred For Vid: CrashCourse

I May…

Or May Not

Expand on ALL The Reasons Why I feel this way,

If I get only One Request, I shall do so.

But Not today,

Perhaps Tomorrow.

Or Perhaps Not…

Running in Soft Sand: SEAL Training Part Three. But Truthfully, More Alternate Stuff. I’ll Write Another ‘Proper’ BUD/s Post Soon–Call Me If You Die

A BUD/s Instructor, i.e., a ‘Demigod’

Or…

Alternate Titles:

“Lance’s Ramblings from his 115th Dream Stream”

(Sorry Bob)

“Call me if they die.”

I just said “Good Luck”–My Favorite Line From Bob’s Song.

***

‘Semi Consciousness Streams of Conscientiousness’

Raining upon My Hit Parade’

‘Nights in White Satin’ – that one makes no sense. That is why I put it in.

Vid Cred: Redbaron863

Or, last and least perhaps: “I have become my Grandfather, or How I became Andy Rooney in One Thousand Words or Less, an essay.”

Gentle Readers, it has not escaped my undying attention that I tend to lean heavily toward the overly-dramatic. The ‘trauma drama’ effect even. Call it a ‘crutch’ if you will.

Yep. Call it that.

This I do know. Therefore, I have (Through my magical powers derived from watching old re-runs of ‘Dragnet’—“Just the facts Ma’am. Just the facts.”—decided to ‘come on back down to Earth, Son’.

–Boz Scaggs: Lowdown)

My (solely appreciated) goal here is to present just ‘them’—just them facts.

I hope I am successful. For y’all’s sake.

When last we left our hero, he was leading his class to their first BUD/s workout. Well, you cannot really call it such: more like a medieval (‘I’m gonna get medieval on your ass’) torture session.

Whatever

Even at zero five (‘Zero Dark Thirty?), The Grinder was a hot, miserable place to be, especially NOT designed for yoga or even step-up aerobics, and / or certainly not Pilates. (Gay Pirates?) No. ‘Twas Wasn’t. There is a reason they (Navy) call it ‘The Grinder.” You go ahead and figure out the obvious.

But this day I do not wanna write about Those Lazy Crazy Hazy Days of Summer…

I want to write about this:

I think. I think I am. Therefore I am… I think.

–Moody Blues, With apologies to René Descartes

***

Now Y’all, much of that I wrote late last night. (Under Some Influence)

Didn’t publish. (Thank Baby Hey Zeus). But I woke up this morning

(Praise be to Allah—Ah Ha!) And you, yes you! (My Human Friends) were on my mind:

To MORE BAD News Stories. I shall list them below so that you may share in ‘The Misery’ That is OUR ‘New World’ (You may thank me later. Send cards and letters…)

  1. The Middle East is still throwing gasoline upon their (and our) raging fire

  2. There will probably never be closure nor justice for Michael Brown or his family

  3. Ebola is raging strong (But only in Africa: So, who cares, right? The WHO, that’s who)

  4. ISIS is our new (never heard of till yesterday) National Crisis & Clear and Present Danger (or new best friend for our Military Industrial Complex, off of which I tend to make MY living)—Much hand-wringing and soul searching over that one. NOT! Damn! Put me in Coach! I live for this shit!

  5. My dog has fleas… Fuckin’ fleas. Dogs!

  6. My British GF finds me… well, of late, she don’t (find me)

  7. I dreamt late last night about my favorite dead cat (Her name was Lucia and she was ‘The Cat From Hell’ and I miss her still—probably the only ‘real’ relationship I have ever had with ‘pussy.’)

  8. My blood pressure remains off the chart and I think I may have given myself diabetes: Type Duh

  9. I have been remiss in visiting and commenting on the blogs of my good friends

  10. Maybe I will just go and eat worms. Maybe I like to eat worms…

Now, Don’t let it bring you down, but that is how I woke up. (And I was happy to have woken up… for just-one-more-day…stay?)

And hey!

Don't stay here

Photo taken in Iraq (or Afghanistan) I honestly don’t remember…

There really is no point to this post. Let us just call it “Unconscious Stream of Consciousness”.

And I will most likely, delete it (and y’all know, I am quick on the mouse trigger when it comes to deletion: I see it as a form of… birth control. So read fast!)

So There.

Now to the ‘Meat of the Matter’:

KAREN

I want to write about ‘The Age of Innocence’: The Seventies.

Yep. I tend to live in the glory that was Roaming… You may bail out here. Here, in fact here is your parachute. Be certain to locate the RIP Cord before you exit the plane: Just a word to some wise and hey!

Bon Voyage!

***

For those of y’all who still remain, I want to write about Karen Carpenter. Not ‘The’ Karen Carpenter, but the Karen Carpenter that symbolized how I felt about the Seventies. Yeah, that one. Her.

***

I woke up with Karen Carpenter on my mind (and yes: I have posted about her recently, but I wanted to try to explain why now)

I woke up with Karen and sadly not in my bed, but in my mind.

Why?

Because… of the ‘Age of Innocents.’ I call her one. The first casualty of the sickness that guides us: This American Dream of having to be some other person. A person, in the spotlight who is …. Drumroll: PERFECT!

No one is perfect and certainly not me (though I am pretty close). Yet, no one is perfection. We cannot be. There is no God and if you believe that there is, you are about as far removed from ‘Perfection’ as a Human…

I should delete that sentence, as it is not Germane, nor German, to my point. Let me think on it…

Back to The Seventies: The Age of Innocents (I was innocent; were you? Probab’ly not.)…

I am running on empty now/here.

“I don’t know where I’m runnin’ now; I’m just runnin’ on…

The Seventies.

I would like some thoughts on that/those. From you! And then, having received same, I will continue. Maybe.

Your choice.

Shalom

Salaam

Namaste

Hook ‘em Horns

Peace,

–Lancers

And P.S. I am sorry for stealing all the vid clips. I will (I promise) accolade y’all later–more later–but later)

And: to any readers I have left:

I am in some form of cryxis: I will be, as Shakespeare once wrote, “King Richard is himself again.” once be.

Stay tuned…
Or not: Yer choice.

Peach,

Lanced

Oh! And by the way… Jackson Browne was/is an asshole

Read it here

Bye now…

Running in Soft Sand: SEAL Training Part Three. But Truthfully More Alternate Stuff (I’ll Write Another ‘Proper’ BUD/s Post Soon)

I actually know this meme-guy: he was an Instructor in BUD/s Class 158. I Know. I was there.

 

 

A BUD/s Instructor, i.e., a ‘Demigod’

 

Or…

Alternate Titles:

“Lance’s Ramblings from his 115th Dream Stream”

(Sorry Bob)

“Call me if they die.”

‘Semi Consciousness Streams of Conscientiousness’

 

Raining upon My Hit Parade’

‘Nights in White Satin’ – that one makes no sense. That is why I put it in.

Vid Cred: Redbaron863

Or, last and least perhaps: “I have become my Grandfather, or How I became Andy Rooney in One Thousand Words or Less, an essay.”

Gentle Readers, it has not escaped my undying attention that I tend to lean heavily toward the overly-dramatic. The ‘trauma drama’ effect even. Call it a ‘crutch’ if you will.

Yep. Call it that.

This I do know. Therefore, I have (Through my magical powers derived from watching old re-runs of ‘Dragnet’—“Just the facts Ma’am. Just the facts.”—decided to ‘come on back down to Earth, Son’.

–Boz Scaggs: Lowdown)

My (solely appreciated) goal here is to present just ‘them’—just them facts.

I hope I am successful. For y’all’s sake.

When last we left our hero, he was leading his class to their first BUD/s workout. Well, you cannot really call it such: more like a medieval (‘I’m gonna get medieval on your ass’) torture session.

Whatever

 

Even at zero five (‘Zero Dark Thirty?), The Grinder was a hot, miserable place to be, especially NOT designed for yoga or even step-up aerobics, and / or certainly not Pilates. (Gay Pirates?) No. ‘Twas Wasn’t. There is a reason they (Navy) call it ‘The Grinder.” You go ahead and figure out the obvious.

But this day I do not wanna write about Those Lazy Crazy Hazy Days of Summer…

I want to write about this:

I think. I think I am. Therefore I am… I think.

–Moody Blues, With apologies to René Descartes

***

Now Y’all, much of that I wrote late last night. (Under Some Influence)

Didn’t publish. (Thank Baby Hey Zeus). But I woke up this morning

(Praise be to Allah—Ah Ha!) And you, yes you! (My Human Friends) were on my mind:

To MORE BAD News Stories. I shall list them below so that you may share in ‘The Misery’ That is OUR ‘New World’ (You may thank me later. Send cards and letters…)

  1. The Middle East is still throwing gasoline upon their (and our) raging fire

  2. There will probably never be closure nor justice for Michael Brown or his family

  3. Ebola is raging strong (But only in Africa: So, who cares, right? The WHO, that’s who)

  4. ISIS is our new (never heard of till yesterday) National Crisis & Clear and Present Danger (or new best friend for our Military Industrial Complex, off of which I tend to make MY living)—Much hand-wringing and soul searching over that one. NOT! Damn! Put me in Coach! I live for this shit!

  5. My dog has fleas… Fuckin’ fleas. Dogs!

  6. My British GF finds me… well, of late, she don’t (find me)

  7. I dreamt late last night about my favorite dead cat (Her name was Lucia and she was ‘The Cat From Hell’ and I miss her still—probably the only ‘real’ relationship I have ever had with ‘pussy.’)

  8. My blood pressure remains off the chart and I think I may have given myself diabetes: Type Duh

  9. I have been remiss in visiting and commenting on the blogs of my good friends

  10. Maybe I will just go and eat worms. Maybe I like to eat worms…

Now, Don’t let it bring you down, but that is how I woke up. (And I was happy to have woken up… for just-one-more-day…stay?)

And hey!

Don't stay here

Photo taken in Iraq (or Afghanistan) I honestly don’t remember…

There really is no point to this post. Let us just call it “Unconscious Stream of Consciousness”.

And I will most likely, delete it (and y’all know, I am quick on the mouse trigger when it comes to deletion: I see it as a form of… birth control. So read fast!)

So There.

Now to the ‘Meat of the Matter’:

KAREN

I want to write about ‘The Age of Innocence’: The Seventies.

Yep. I tend to live in the glory that was Roaming… You may bail out here. Here, in fact here is your parachute. Be certain to locate the RIP Cord before you exit the plane: Just a word to some wise and hey!

Bon Voyage!

***

For those of y’all who still remain, I want to write about Karen Carpenter. Not ‘The’ Karen Carpenter, but the Karen Carpenter that symbolized how I felt about the Seventies. Yeah, that one. Her.

***

I woke up with Karen Carpenter on my mind (and yes: I have posted about her recently, but I wanted to try to explain why now)

I woke up with Karen and sadly not in my bed, but in my mind.

Why?

Because… of the ‘Age of Innocents.’ I call her one. The first casualty of the sickness that guides us: This American Dream of having to be some other person. A person, in the spotlight who is …. Drumroll: PERFECT!

No one is perfect and certainly not me (though I am pretty close). Yet, no one is perfection. We cannot be. There is no God and if you believe that there is, you are about as far removed from ‘Perfection’ as a Human…

I should delete that sentence, as it is not Germane, nor German, to my point. Let me think on it…

Back to The Seventies: The Age of Innocents (I was innocent; were you? Probab’ly not.)…

I am running on empty now/here.

“I don’t know where I’m runnin’ now; I’m just runnin’ on…

The Seventies.

I would like some thoughts on that/those. From you! And then, having received same, I will continue. Maybe.

Your choice.

Shalom

Salaam

Namaste

Hook ‘em Horns

Peace,

–Lancers

And P.S. I am sorry for stealing all the vid clips. I will (I promise) accolade y’all later–more later–but later)

And: to any readers I have left:

I am in some form of cryxis: I will be, as Shakespeare once wrote, “King Richard is himself again.” once be.

Stay tuned…
Or not: Yer choice.

Peach,

Lanced

Oh! And by the way… Jackson Browne was/is an asshole

Read it here

Bye now…

These Memories Always Make Me Cry. I Am Such A Hapless, Helpless, Hopeless & Hopeful Romantic. But I Will Never Change. Don’t Wanna.

This Is Just A “Warm-Up”–I Wanna Write So Much More About My Six Lived Months In Amman, Jordan

And I Shall. Write More About It–Those Wonderful Days—“Those Were The Days My Friend…

We Thought They’d Never End”

Maggie and Hala Used to Sing This Song around The Office In Amman.

They Were So Charming!

I miss them so much!

(I Have Photos, But They are On My Broken Computer–

Shite!–

OK. I Do Have One:

Lance and Hala—In Amman, Jordan

***

Why Is My Life So Diff-O-Kite?

Mary Hopkin – Those Were The Days 

****

Jordan

How many women have I loved (and lost)???

Better Dust off that TI Calculator

I worked in Amman Jordan for six months.
(Parsons/Bechtel evacuated Iraq at the end of our project—USAID Rural Water Project)

We had completed all the ‘on-the-ground’-work.
Nothing left to do but finalize the paper-work.
We could do this in Jordan.

It was ‘safer

So said Parsons—No need to get anyone else kilt in Iraq—Made sense I suppose.

I protested.
To no avail.

I wanted to remain in Iraq.
Guess what?

My opinions did not matter.
So I flew to Amman.

Parsons maintained an office there.
Employed locals.

An aside/preamble:
Jordan has some of the most beautiful women in the world.

“Danger Will Robinson!”

–AKA Lance Marcom

I fell hard for one of them.
Working in that Office of Parsons’
Her name was Margarete
“Maggie”

She was, of course, an Arab.
But ‘Western-ized and Western- sized:

Meaning ‘Slightly Chunky.’

We fell headlong into love.

This was a monumental fuckup on my/her part.

I knew better—or should have—we both should have…

Known Better

We did, but we chose to ignore

The danger

******

To Be Continued…

Later

“Lance, it’s later than you think”

Street Cred for Shared Vid: dcck123

“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”

With Liz Taylor as ‘Maggie’

*****

Some Smallish Added Value:

Dedicated To My Much-Missed Maggie:

If I Must Credit This, You Are NOT Paying Attention