Expanded & Really, Really Stupid–A Pity-Party for Me. This is Really Stupid, Yet Deserves Another Look. Word Around the Campfire: “Lance is Drunk”–Again) (Snow, Texas (NO) Power & Light, Abusive Muse: True Love of My Life, All Mish-Mashed Together. Snow Ice-Cream Anyone? I’m buyin’. BYOVE–Bring Yer Own Vanilla Extract: I drank all of Mine.

Lance’s Little Chariot:

***

I fucking LOVE THIS MOVIE!

I almost ‘did’ this scene (first one below) in 1979 when I flew from The Sinai Desert, Egypt to Texas to STOP the Wedding of My Highschool Sweatheart. I was 4 hours late! By the time I got there, they were already heading for their honeymoon in Waco! Worst day of my young life up to that point!

P.S. My Girl was even more beautiful than Kate Ross

True Story!

Vid Share Cred: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChZE6YO1kG7YVD9DJ4oDGOw

An aside: Katherine Ross is The Most Beautiful Woman In The History of “Woman.”—Except for MY GIRL–But Precisely Why My MS Muse is Moniker’ed “Katherine.”

I cannot doxx My Girl by Naming My Muse After Her…

And “The Graduate” is one of the Greatest Movies Ever Made.—Don’t Believe Me?—Just Ask My Muse, Katherine. She’ll Set You Straight as you are picking yourself up off the floor. (Remember, She has that Devastation Right Hook. And, Trust me on this: She Does Not Suffer Fools)

And Yes!

I wrote a University Paper On This Movie as Well.

For My “Film & Literature Class”

***

Woke up in Total Darkness

And To The Sound of Silence. 

No CNN White Noise.

No computer purring/whirring.

Not even MS Muse Stirring.

WTF?!

Power was out!

Looked out my back door.

Then it all made sense.

Shut the door and went back inside.

Fumbled around and found my flashlight.

Discovered a note pinned to my pillow.

It was from MS Muse (Who else?)

It Read:

“Hey Asshole, (She is so sweet), I am mounting my broom and flying the fuck outta this dump. You may reach me at The Magnuson Hotel (they have a backup generator) once you get this shit sorted and the lights back on.

Meantime, Light a candle and continue working.

I’m watching you. Never think I’m not”

First time I heard this Bill Withers’ Masterpiece, the Radio Man came on immediately after the song had finished and provided his ‘insight:’

He said,

“I counted the ‘I know, I know, I know’s’

Twenty-Four.

And you’re welcome.”

I had to laugh because I was tryin’ to count them too.

I lost count and failed. DJ Man succeeded.

Guess that was why he was spinning records for money.

And I was spinning my wheels in Small-Town Texas World.

For No Money

**********

And Never Forget Ann Bancroft, aka:

‘Mrs. Robinson’

Video Capture Credit: 05vs1

*********

Added Value For “Upbeat” Happy Purposes Only

Few Better Than ‘The Dino’

Rhonda: Chapter Le Premier

This ain’t Rhonda, but a pretty (really pretty) reasonable facsimile.

(Just like Rhonda)

Once Janet and I had escaped (In the middle of the night) from Nacogdoches, after having sold out and sold our “Aquarium World” Crud-Eater Tropical Fish Emporium to a young couple for not nearly what it was worth, we headed to Plano.

(Not sure why Plano)

Got there. Early in the A.M.
Just in time to find an apartment.

Found one, but we were near to broke.

West Plano—where all the yuppies and rich folk lived.

We managed to move in though.

No FURNITURE.

(We were used to that)

After about a month, we got kicked out.

Because we were deemed to be “White Trash.”

Fuck ‘em.

We found a cheaper apartment in East Plano that was FURNISHED.

Janet announced to me one day that she wanted to be a ‘housewife’ for one year.

Considering what I had put her through and what a ‘trooper’ she had always been, I agreed.

So I got a job which paid shit, but just enough to make her dream come true.

We would manage.

The job was a ‘factory’ job for a Mom and Pop company:

SPAN INSTRUMENTS

They made gauges. Pressure gauges. Mostly for fire trucks.

I was hired as a ‘Calibration Technician.’

For the gauges.

(Yeah, with all of my fucking ‘math skills.’)

But I never missed work and so they kept upping my pay.

So it was easy for me to keep my promise to my wife.

Then entered Rhonda Jo:

Throwing a spanner in the works of my marriage.

To be continued…

Teaser:

Jury Duty, Texas Style: Sentence

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

***

All left to do: pronounce sentence.

As it was so late in the afternoon (and we really wanted to score just one more pizza the following day), we retired for the afternoon, to return the next morning. Now, of course I thought we could make quick work of this business and not get any more pizza.

I was mistaken.

First of all, we had to sit in that musty courtroom for an hour or so, listening to the prosecutor drone on about how we needed (our civic duty) to throw the book at this kid whom we had unanimously recently convicted (Hardly unanimous, but hey! Who’s counting?)

Then we had to listen to The Defense chastise us roundly for convicting an innocent (innocent?) man.

Well, the Defense pissed me off. (Yes. My failing, but more on that later. Not something I am proud of today)

After a couple of hours of this, we retired to our ‘chambers’.

The air was not quite as contentious (almost) as it was the previous day, yet…

The minimum sentence we could pronounce was fifteen years.

Straight-away I had a more roundish number in my head: ‘Twenty’.

Hell! He would be out in seven, given good behavior and prison overcrowding.

Once again, Blue-Haired Lady was having none of this. And I did respect her emotion. Yet, damnit! That defense attorney done pissed me off (Shades of Peanut). How dare he say these words he said:

“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen of the ‘jury’ (Yes. Sarcasm was dripping, like something out of a drunken sailor’s mouth) since you have already made one ‘mistake’… do not make yet another, and give this man anything more than the minimum.”

With his sarcasm bouncing around in my head, I was bound and determined ‘he’, he being in my mind, the attorney (what an ignorant fool was I to think in any way that this ‘Council’ gave two shits about his ‘Client’) was going up for twenty and I fiercely lobbied for twenty.

Looking back now, I regret this.

Sincerely regret this.

Fifteen would have sufficed, but I stood firm and played upon the emotions and the exasperation of my fellows and got my wish.

As I said, I regret this now.

We gave him twenty.

Sorry Johnson, wherever you may be.

I am so sorry for tacking on five years for my ego, and only my ego, nothing more.

END

P.S. Writing this has taken much out of me. I had buried it long ago somewhere never to be felt again.

I hope you enjoyed it.

I did not.

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