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’



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.



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’:


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.


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.




Hook ‘em Horns



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.



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

Read it here

Bye now…

Self-Critique. I Have Noticed, Of Late, A Pattern, A Rather Disturbing Pattern, Developing In My Brain, –A Disturbing One. “Writing Writing Writing! Raw-Hide!”



Run & HIDE!

When I Re-Post An Old Post, I Always Begin By Saying,

“This Is A ‘Re-Post’”

Christ-On-A Cracker Lance!

Is THIS Necessary?

Survey Says

“NO To The Hell NO!”

I mean if you’ve seen it, you already know.

If you have not seen it.


It is Brand-New to you


I Am Gonna Change My Ways. This is My Promise. Hold Me To It—Call Me Out If I Waiver. I have already fallen off-that other-wagon.

I am bruised, but still not broken

Still Alive and I’ll Survive

Bloggin’ Bloggin’ Bloggin’


Yeah. That’s A Young Clint Eastwood

Good Eye If You Noticed.

If Not, I’ll Think About Forgiving You.


Don’t Try To Understand Him

Just Tie & Rope & Brand Him


Good Luck With That Effort

Catch Y’alls Later From The Bottom Of My Rabbit Hole

(Please Drop Down Some Booze From Time to Time)

Thanking Y’all In Advance

And Please, No ‘Top-Shelf Liquor.

Don’t Waste Your Money.

Mid-Shelf Will Suffice.

Thank You

Pete? Pete? Re-Pete? Rinse & Re-Peat Many-Feet: “Pap, Huk, Peanut, Delirium Tremens, and Lance” The DT’s: They’re Not Just for Breakfast Anymore.

I post a lot of shit. I post a lot of off the wall shit. If you have read my ‘By Way of Introduction’ page you will know this. But, OK,  most of you have not (read that). Therefore, I will be brief here (“More matter and less art,” Yeah yeah yeah…) More matter below:

And here is some ref: Peanut, stuff, more stuff, and even more stuff.

I stole this from Sam Clemens. I hope you like it a lot. (I do)

I don’t know how long I was asleep, but all of a sudden there was an awful scream and I was up. There was pap looking wild, and skipping around every which way and yelling about snakes.

He said they was crawling up his legs; and then he would give a jump and scream, and say one had bit him on the cheek–but I couldn’t see no snakes.

He started and run round and round the cabin, hollering “Take him off! take him off! he’s biting me on the neck!” I never see a man look so wild in the eyes.

Pretty soon he was all fagged out, and fell down panting; then he rolled over and over wonderful fast, kicking things every which way, and striking and grabbing at the air with his hands, and screaming and saying there was devils a-hold of him.

He wore out by and by, and laid still a while, moaning. Then he laid stiller, and didn’t make a sound. I could hear the owls and the wolves away off in the woods, and it seemed terrible still. He was laying over by the corner. By and by he raised up part way and listened, with his head to one side. He says, very low:

“Tramp–tramp–tramp; that’s the dead; tramp–tramp–tramp; they’re coming after me; but I won’t go. Oh, they’re here! don’t touch me –don’t! hands off–they’re cold; let go. Oh, let a poor devil alone!”

Then he went down on all fours and crawled off, begging them to let him alone, and he rolled himself up in his blanket and wallowed in under the old pine table, still a-begging; and then he went to crying. I could hear him through the blanket.

By and by he rolled out and jumped up on his feet looking wild, and he see me and went for me. He chased me round and round the place with a clasp-knife, calling me the Angel of Death, and saying he would kill me, and then I couldn’t come for him no more.

I begged, and told him I was only Huck; but he laughed SUCH a screechy laugh, and roared and cussed, and kept on chasing me up.

Once when I turned short and dodged under his arm he made a grab and got me by the jacket between my shoulders, and I thought I was gone; but I slid out of the jacket quick as lightning, and saved myself.

Pretty soon he was all tired out, and dropped down with his back against the door, and said he would rest a minute and then kill me. He put his knife under him, and said he would sleep and get strong, and then he would see who was who.

So he dozed off pretty soon. By and by I got the old split-bottom chair and clumb up as easy as I could, not to make any noise, and got down the gun.

I slipped the ramrod down it to make sure it was loaded, then I laid it across the turnip barrel, pointing towards pap, and set down behind it to wait for him to stir. And how slow and still the time did drag along.

Shoot at me you son of a bitch!

“Lately I been thinkin’, I just might quit drinkin’…

Now I don’t know, all in all…”

–Jerry Jeff

“I Feel Like Hank Williams Tonight”

Huh? Whut?

I have cast to the curb, so many good women



Why, Oh The The Fuck Why???

What is WRONG With me???

Only Two Words:

Wanderlust & Alcohol

Refuge of the Roads


Cred For Vid Share: Christian Davies


JJ All-The-Way!


The ‘Airplane’

Not Sure What-The-Fuk This Is About—

Well, Screw It. I Musta Dropped It In For A Reason

Oh Now I Recall:

“White Rabbit”




Love You!

Just Fer Fun! And Yes! I Will Finally Admit: This Is A True Story–Y’all Know, I Never Write Fiction–No Time/Talent For It. “Richard & His Lame-Ass Jeans Store Chapter Les Deux (My Love–My Sister–My Madelyn)”

So as we were sitting so very close together on her bed I said,

“Why is he closing the store?”

“Not making any money.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. What else did he say, if anything?”

“He said, I guess I could just burn the place down and collect the insurance.”

I said to Maddy, “He would never do that. He is too much a pussy.”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

Then she confided:

“I stole a lot… A LOT of stuff from the store. Closing right
? I lit a fire, but I think it didn’t take. I am so afraid My fire went out! They will find me out!

ZZ Top – Blue Jean Blues by Billy Gibbons:

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. I’ll fix it for you.”

“How? How you gonna fix it for me?”

“You still have a key to the front door?”

“You know I do.”

“Give it to me.”

“What you gonna do?”

I flashed her a grin:

“I’m gonna burn the place down to the ground. For you Dear Sister”

She gave me the key.


To be continued….


As most of you who know me know…

This is a TRUE STORY!

I do not write fiction!

Fuk ’em!

Let them come after me!

“They” will regret that!

And that is a paralyzed fact!

Do not fuck with a copperhead snake!

“Red Next to Yell’ah Will Kill a Fellah”

cHAP uNO Here:


Somehow Strangely Related:

I’m At Least A Thousand Miles From N-Where’s–Ville. Nicce Climit! Wanna Join Me?

I’m ‘A’-Tryin’ Really Hard To Be Happy! & Up_Beat & Remain Positive! Obviously This Will Be A WIP! ‘Work-in-I Digress-Progress!’

Wish Me Luck in My Endeavor!! — And, I’m a-Tryin’ Really Hard to Entertain Y’alls! & NEVah, Evarh, Wanna Waste Yer Finite, Valuable To Me, Spent on Me. Time. This is “Me” in All Truthful Sincerity!

I’m Stupid!

I Cannot Help It

I Just Act Naturally!



Buck It Up!

Fuk It It Up!

Yuk Yuk Yuk

It Up! Fuk U

I Don’t Really Mean Mean Mean to be Mean!

But I Am An Ass-Hole,

By Natural Nature…

Why is this Vid So fucked up?

Why post a Fukked-up Vid???



Edit Asshole!

Edit B4 You Post!

Or At Least,

Revisit & Fix Your Shit!

Show Some Respect

For Your Readers!

Try it!

U Might Like it!

Cred For Vid: DangerousDonRich

“Oh My God—What’s Happening To Me?!!”

Dwight Jok’em!

I am so Fukkin’ far Removed



That I Cannot Find My Ass with Both Hands


I’ve Got Bruisings On My Memories

Ain’t That a G’Damn Shame?!

I’m a thousand miles from nowhere
Time don’t matter to me
‘Cause I’m a thousand miles from nowhere
And there’s no place I want to be

Cred: Warner Music Nashville

I Cast Pearls at At At Swine!

All The Time!

For No Dimes!


I Lub All Y’alls!

All the Y’alls!

I am So



But I Love Connie!


Do NOT Watch This One Below!

It is Depression!


(On Steroids!)


Try To….

Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive –

Bing Crosby

With The Andrews Sisters:

If It Has Escaped Your Attention:

Please allow Me To Refresh Your Memory!

I Love The Andrews Sisters!

1942 Andrews Sisters – Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree

vID cRED: Bleiddwen Lupin


Say What?!


I CANNOT FIND THE VID! I Wanted To Care & Share!

(OK! Found It! Fuk U Internet!)

I’ll Always Out-Last Your Dumb Ass!

Boogie Wookie~ Get Funky!





Creds for “Positive” Vid: beyoncetyratina



My AmeriKa!


Aw-Right Y’all!

Yuk it Up!


I did NOT Have

A White Christmas!

That Would’ve Been


I did Dream of One Though

But All I really Wanted To


Was Not Run Out of Rum

“Lord Help The Mister That Comes Between me And My Sister”


Sister Act!

The End!


In The end…

Oh yeah, all right
Are you going to be in my dreams

And in the end
The love you take

Is equal to the love you make


Yeah! In The End!

Yer Fukked!





I have Been In – Love With Natalie Wood

For All

My Adolescence




This Property Is Condemned 

(As Am I)

“Are You gonna Be In My Dreams tonight?”

Fuk Yes!


For All Of The Rest of My Un=Nat-at-yer-All Life!

Natalie! Please Always Remain In My Dreams!

My Dear Beautiful Dream Girl

My Dream Lover


You Stole My Line!


I Coulda Been a Contender!

For Her

For Her Affections!

But, Oh Hell No!

You Had To Screw That Up For Me!

(Oh & Fuk You Too Robert Redford!)


Bobby! You Can Kiss My Ass!





I Coin a Phrase,

In A Daze!

I am So Fukking Stupid!

I Should Just Fuffin’ KIll Myself!

Maybe I shall!

Do Y’all A Solid

Suicide Is Painless

It Brings On

Many Changes 


“Through early morning fog I see
Visions of the things to be
The pains that are withheld for me
realize and I can see

That Suicide is Painless!



Just to Cheer You The Fuk Up!

“Oh Happy Dagger!”

May Be Worth A Re-Look-See. Mainly Just For Hattie. “What did YOU do in The War Daddy? Daddy?? DADDY!??

Are You My Daddy?” “Dunno Girl. You from Olongapo City? PI? Dubai? Or Sydney Aussie? Or Mombasa? Or Hong Kong or Amman, or Tel Aviv, or Cairo? or Waco?

Please tell me Y’all ain’t from Waco! That Would Ruin my day!…. Catch My Drift? Oh Never Mind! What’s your DNA say? If I broke it, I’ll buy it”


Never mind. I Suppose It’s Possible. Now Be A Dear And Buy Your Ole’ “Daddy” A Beer… Dear? Dear?

Where Ya goin’ Dear?–Come Back Here! I didn’t get my beer!”

(Cannot Properly EDIT This!

Damn You to Hell WordPress!–The Un-Pleasant Parts)

It’s Fittin’

Or it isn’t.


No! It WAS Fittin’!

Very Much So!

So Well-Deserved!

Bravo to You Hattie!

In my mind, I think I have written some incredibly good shit for this here blog, (approaching my one-year anniversary) but then again, who can account for taste?

Certainly not me.


I had some interesting emails of late:

Mostly of the “Jeeze! Yer not dead… I hope.” Strain. (vernacular??)

“No Virginia, I am not dead.”(And No: There ain’t no Santa)


Nope. Not yet. (dead: not Santa—try to stay with me here Friends…)

‘So sorry…’

“Maybe next time.” Or as some of my ‘friends’ might say: “Next Year in Jerusalem.”

(But then, that is some other kind of different post, ain’t it?)

I am tired, so I will end this now.

Just wanted to post ‘something’ so that y’all would realize… I am still alive in here.



P.S. Now, that right there is what some might call a virulent (?), brilliant stream of ‘conscientiousness’. Some might, in fact.

Personally, I call ‘bullshit.’ But that is just me.

Cheers Y’all,


And PPS:

I am gonna volunteer to go to Liberia.

Just to help.

If y’all think I’m jokin’, well then; you don’t know me very well, do you?

Hell! All who know me, know I will risk anything for money! Because ‘money’ is all I care about.”

(And if y’all believe that, well then I am not… aiming… at ‘My Audience’)

And I do have a bridge to sell. (cheap!)


Just for fun:

Bob Dylan – George Floyd – RIP

“A Deputy Sheriff approached them in a manner rather rude…”

Bad Idea Officer!

Take Away:

Don’t Fuck With Pretty-Boy Floyd



Fuck With Lance

He Looks Nice

But He Bites

Just Some



Be Nice

Read & Heed

“I Ain’t Never Seen An Outlaw Drive A Family From Their Home”

“A Deputy Sheriff approached them in a manner rather rude…”