I Screwed Up This Post—Sorry!==This Seemed To Be Popular. (uP-DATED–Slightly Inebriated—Up-Beat–Positive–XPANDED–Mildly FUKKED wITH)– I Thought “Why Not?–OH Why The Hell Not? Why Not Re-post It? Some May Not Have Seen It–First Time ‘Round Town.”

Je suis enchanté

“Money Makes The World Go Around”


Women (I Know) I KNOW–Life is a Cabaret! Live it the Best Way That You Can Stand. Have A Blast!

While It Lasts

Willkommen:

And NEVER EVER Look Back.

Sally!

Woman Right Up My Alley!

I write a lot about my relationships with women.

Why? I don’t know. Or… perhaps I do know. It grows tiresome for most. (especially former Girlfriends/wives) This I know. I also know I have to write what I remember and know, and what I feel/felt, and knew. I recently re-watched “Alien”, a movie that kinda, sorta defined what I ‘was’ in the Sinai Desert in 1979. Not sure how to explain that one… but, yet… Sigourney Weaver…

Anyhow, I write about women. I write about women, and my relationships with women, because I love women. Most of them don’t love me, but none of them (them ‘wimmens’) can ever say they were ever bored with me…

Point is: I love women. I write about my experiences with women because my experiences with all the women in my past have made… me… a feminist.

I love the way they look. (And yes! I love the way they ‘cook’–metaphor–I am the ‘best cook’) I love the way they dress. I love the way they un-dress. I love the way they talk. I love the way they walk. I love the way they incite. I love the way they excite. I love the way they dance. I love the way they romance. I love the way they taste. I love the way they smell. I love the way they mostly… don’t tell.

And most of all, I love the way they piss me off,

(And drive me crazy.)

Yes. I love women. 

The way they Made Me: Made me who I am.

And I like that.

I like this man called ‘Lance’, that a woman created in me

Him I like instinctively (No Choice)

But, what the hell?!

“That’s what comes from too much pills and liquor.”

 

Vid Credit: 

Felipe Ruiz de Chávez

And of course, Joel Gray (and of course  Bob Fosse.)

Token Males… To defend the race of men who think (better).

My “Journey” Through Life With Wonderful Women on My Arm.
I have Been Blessed To Have Known A few—More than a few, Actually.

Yep: Blessed (And Very Lucky)

When you love a woman
You see your world inside her eyes

******

I am NOT a Fan of “Revoltin’” Bolton,

But I do like his rendition of this Original Percy Sledge song.

I am not callous, nor vindictive, and I do appreciate talent when I experience it.

Just One More Example of a Woman I love, Admire, and Respect:

“If I were younger…”

********

Just For Levity:

Dedicated To The Michaels Bolton

(Both of Them)

And Never Forget:

Life is A Cabaret

Enjoy it While it Lasts!

And Spend ALL Your Dimes

But Only On Good Times

And Good Wimmens

**********

Bonus Material:

Cabaret: A Legend in the Making (1997)

UPDATED / Expanded! Turned Into A Bit Of A Mini-Rant, But Y’all Know How I Tend To Roll… “Should I Continue This Series? Fishin’ for Encouragement Here. or Maybe I am Just Lonely… Who knows? No One, I suppose … “Rent – A – Sailor: Part One”

P.S. This Post Has Become A Long-Ass-Long-Winded–Verbosity-Laden–Monstrosity– –If You Manage To Slog Through It, Send Me A Bill. I Promise To Reimburse Your Purse For Lost Time.

Hahaha!

“The Line Forms To The Right”

Credit: Bobby Darin

Just Take A Number & Have A Seat.

I’ll Get To You. By And Bye

*****

Aussie Wu-Flu Photo Below:

Really Upsets Me, Because Last Time I Visited There,

The Mates & the Shelia’s Had NO Fear!

Not A Care

In This World

(Unless The Foster’s Ran Dry)

My Kind-Of-People:

Mostly Perpetually Happy & Up-Beat

Or…

In The Aussie Vernacular:

“No Worries Mate.”

Pretty Sure This “Aussie-Attitude”

Still Rings True–

At Least I Hopes It Do

Its Just

Their Fukk’Up Government.

But We Americans Cannot ‘Honestly’ Throw Stones

Can We?

*****

Aussie Gals Are FEARLESS

This Has Been My Experience

(Much Like Texan Gals)

Just For Ref:

***********

You Know You Are Dating an Australian Woman When…

Cred: Dating Beyond Borders

Aussie Sheilas:

****

I No Longer Wish to Return To Australia

I’m Stayin’ In Texas Where

The Government Ain’t Insane!

Nor

Gone Bat-Shit Crazy!

***

Aussie Covid-19:

Cred: WION

I Used To Love Australia

(Still Do Actually)

Crocodile Dundee:
“That’s not a knife: this is a Knife.”

Cred For Vid Share: Tomas Tree

*****
I love Australia
As I Want To remember Her
And All
The Shelia’s:

25 Great Crocodile Dundee Quotes:

Cred For Vid Compilation: PonAdidas

But Until They Get Over Their

Stupid WuFlu Panic,

I Ain’t Gonna Go Back

Australia Geography/Australia Country Song:

Cred: Kids Learning Tube

Land Down Yonder

Vid/Music Cred: Men at Work

*****

Olivia Neutron Bomb

“Magical”

Easy-Greasy. Got A Long Way to Slide:

*****

Screw It!

****

If My Wander-Lust Evah Return’eth,

I’m Goin’ To Ireland!

Irish Rovers-Drunken Sailor:

^^^^

Related:

“Rescue Mission”

–Kris:

Perhaps I’ll Run Into Erin Burnett While There.

Or Mayhaps

Even Ygritte.

As She(s) Is Passing Through Oh Her Way Back To Scotland

Yeah, Right.

I Could NEVER Get THAT Lucky!

Cred For Vid: Sara Cardoso

But Stranger Things Have Been Known To Happen… In My Life

Back in ’89 halfway into my last WestPAC (Western Pacific Deployment) bobbing about in the Pacific, onboard the USS Frederick LST 1184, we had already spent much time in Subic Bay, Hong Kong, Guam, Korea, Fuk-Ya-Mama Japan, and possible some other ‘Ornamental’ ports I do not recall.

USS Fred: LST 1184:

Well, we were steaming along in the South Pacific one day when word came down the pike that we had new orders to sail to Sydney.

What?

What?!

Hell Yes!

“But why?” I asked the first ‘Old-Salty-Squiddy’ I could find.

“Some idiots from a tin can (destroyer) dropped a pallet of high explosives on top of the Great Barrier Reef. We have to go retrieve it before shit jumps off. That reef is some kind of fuckin’ national park or something.”

“Why us?”

“Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares? We get to go to Australia! Australia! In Australia, they still LOVE us. There is this thing they do. It’s called ‘Rent-A-Sailor’ and you’ll see.”

“Hell you talking about? ‘Rent-A-Sailor’?”

“When we dock, there will be tons of women on the pier to greet us. They will all have paid real money to ‘host’ us while we are there. They love us. Maybe ‘cause we saved them from the Japs back in doubya doubya two.”

Hostesses for the Most of Us

“I see your point. Sounds great!”

“Just wait. You’ll see,” he said again breathlessly. I must admit, his excitement was contagious.

***

Now, do not get me wong (wrong). I love Southern Pacific Eastern ‘Ornamental’ Women and this is well-documented, but I, we, all of us, were in the mood for a female change of scenery. We wanted to see some ‘Round-Eyes.’ And before anyone accuses me of being ‘racist’ you may want to do some research on my blog—this one—and then get back to me.

All that shit spake…

We turned the Freddy Southbound-and-Down toward Sydney. Estimated steaming time to Australia: three days.

We were all very excited.

I Went looking for the ship’s barber to get me gussied up…

To be continued… Here. Y’all hear??

UPDATED! Turned Into A Bit Of A Mini-Rant, But Y’all Know How I Am “Should I Continue This Series? (There is… There ACTUALLY Is, A Lot More to the Story) Fishin’ for Encouragement Here. or, Maybe I am Just Lonely… Who knows? No One, I suppose … “Rent – A – Sailor: Part One”

****

I No Longer Wish to Return To Australia

I’m Stayin’ In Texas Where

The Government Ain’t Insane!

Gone Bat-Shit Crazy!

Aussie Covid-19:

Cred: WION

I Used To Love Australia

(Still Do) But Until They Don’t get Over Their Stupid WuFlu Panic,

I Ain’t Gonna Back

Australia Geography/Australia Country Song:

Cred: Kids Learning Tube

Land Down Yonder

Vid/Music Cred: Men at Work

*****

Olivia Neutron Bomb

*****

Back in ’89 halfway into my last WestPAC (Western Pacific Deployment) bobbing about in the Pacific, onboard the USS Frederick LST 1184, we had already spent much time in Subic Bay, Hong Kong, Guam, Korea, Fuk-Ya-Mama Japan, and possible some other ‘Ornamental’ ports I do not recall.

USS Fred: LST 1184:

Well, we were steaming along in the South Pacific one day when word came down the pike that we had new orders to sail to Sydney.

What?

What?!

Hell Yes!

“But why?” I asked the first ‘Old-Salty-Squiddy’ I could find.

“Some idiots from a tin can (destroyer) dropped a pallet of high explosives on top of the Great Barrier Reef. We have to go retrieve it before shit jumps off. That reef is some kind of fuckin’ national park or something.”

“Why us?”

“Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares? We get to go to Australia! Australia! In Australia, they still LOVE us. There is this thing they do. It’s called ‘Rent-A-Sailor’ and you’ll see.”

“Hell you talking about? ‘Rent-A-Sailor’?”

“When we dock, there will be tons of women on the pier to greet us. They will all have paid real money to ‘host’ us while we are there. They love us. Maybe ‘cause we saved them from the Japs back in doubya doubya two.”

Hostesses for the Most of Us

“I see your point. Sounds great!”

“Just wait. You’ll see,” he said again breathlessly. I must admit, his excitement was contagious.

***

Now, do not get me wong (wrong). I love Southern Pacific Eastern ‘Ornamental’ Women and this is well-documented, but I, we, all of us, were in the mood for a female change of scenery. We wanted to see some ‘Round-Eyes.’ And before anyone accuses me of being ‘racist’ you may want to do some research on my blog—this one—and then get back to me.

All that shit spake…

We turned the Freddy Southbound-and-Down toward Sydney. Estimated steaming time to Australia: three days.

We were all very excited.

I Went looking for the ship’s barber to get me gussied up…

To be continued… Here. Y’all hear??

Special Thanks To My Frin’ Marla, I Must Re-Post This! “He Went to Paris: I can smell the Darkness” Yet another One You Should NOT Read. It is Only Really meant for Marla. I Hope She Reads It

Yet another one do not read!

paris.jpg

And he went to England; played the piano, married an actress named “Kim:”…  She was a good wife… ‘I’ loved her.

This is a continuation, albeit a flashback, to my story of Janet and Random Memories from The Middle East.

Months before the events inked here, here, here, and here, I found myself in Paris (actually two Paris’s—One Texan—One French). Confus’d yet? Stand by: it grows worse(r)

Let’s back up a mite (mites are hard to back up by the way, militarily that is: damn small and damn slippery, them mites… and they tend to mite-bite one, usually on one’s ass)

We call that “Green on Blue” and if you are following the recent news cycle, you will surely know that, that is inappropriate. But that is just how I roll. Screw Afghanistan and their pretended bullshit “We gonna take over security of our country…” Won’t happen. But after ten plus years there (and some several months there by me, after Iraq–got ‘liberated’–now there is yet another joke. I can speak to the idiocy that is ‘our’ foreign fallacy. 

I was in Sinai, 1978 and I received a letter from my step-sis.

This Is A Goddamn Pity-Party…Please Don’t Read. I am Ashamed of Me!!! FTW! “Fuck The World! Back! Fuk it! I still MISS HER SO MUCH! I Miss That Bitch! So MARVELOUS Much! Missed Bitch! I am Losing my fucking mind over memories of her! I Cannot Spell or Type, or Think for Shit, Goddamn You Bitch! Why Do You Continue to HAUNT My Feeble Mind??? Goddamnit! Madelyn! Why did you Leave Me?! “How Do You Hold A Moonbeam In Your Hand?” I want My Sister Back! Fuck You God! Godddamn Cunt, She Was! I loved Her More Than Cash Money!

 

This was not unusual back in those days, as we were still ‘speaking’. She sent me a rather long and boring letter regarding Honey Grove and all the ‘Happenings’ thereabouts. The letter was indeed ‘boring’ until I got to her ‘PS’. It read and I quote (loosely), “By the way, R is marrying J. Jesus-Beezus!”

This was, to me, devastation by way of bad.

Unspeakable news!

‘How could she?! She was MINE. Mine to mine and to have and to hold… just as soon as I finished with my wanderlust. How dare she?!” How DARE she?!

What to do?

Well, I had some R&R time ‘on the books’ so I hopped on a freighter (airplane), and flew back to Texas, ostensibly to break up the marriage, just like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate. Problem was, was that I screwed up the dates and the logistics, and arrived not in time to bust up the wedding, but just in time to see the happy couple speeding off fast to Waco and their honeymoon.

Shit!

Never having been more depressed at missing a rendezvous, what to do? Rebound Son! Rebound!

So, I sought out Janet. Let’s call it a ‘bank shot rebound.’ I knew she was working at the Hopkins Lamar (See? To this day, I never know which county I am in)  County Courthouse as a probation officer, so I timed (this time, my timing was spot on) my entrance during her lunch break: Intercepted her coming down the stairs of the courthouse.

“Hey Janet!”

“Lance?”

“C’est moi! How’s Trix?”

“You are supposed to be in Egypt,” she said.

“I escaped,” I said. “Wanna have lunch?”

“Uh… Sure. Why not?” (Why not indeed)

We went to lunch. Then she took the rest of the day. We went to her apartment and drank gin. Later that eve, after I had regaled her with fantastical tales of the Middle of the East, she took a drag from her Virginia Slim and asked, “So are you gonna f*#k me tonight, or what?”

I said, “No Ma’am; I am gonna make love to you—something I should have done five years ago.”

So we did—I did—make love to her.

The problem now became that I had a plane to catch to that other Paris: that one in France. The other part of the problem was that my plane was waiting in Houston. I was about five hours at seventy miles per hour away from my Air France plane at Houston Intercontinental. I had to go. Now.

I hit the road to Houston, not really wanting to go, but I had promised my buddy Bart, Black Bart, that I would meet him in Paris on such and such a day. Naturally, I ended up missing my flight and arrived Paree a day late. On the taxi ride from Charles de Gaulle airport we drove under a bridge and the taxi car lost its windshield to a lone rifle shot. (my theory) “Terrorist?” I asked the cabby? (en français).

“Merde!” Was all he said, as he dodged the flying glass. I did not care anyhow, but this rather happenstance occurrence did not bode well for my first day in Gay Paree.

“There’s my hotel!” I exclaimed as he had managed to (somehow) keep driving.

I paid him off, got out of his now mangled, windshield-less cab and made my way into the cheap hotel lobby. Went up to my room, dropped my shit; then went looking for my buddy. Found him at last sitting on his rack, rather sullen in mood. I checked out his room. It had a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower.

“So Bart,” I asked finally, “What have you done here in The City of Light for twenty-four hours?”

“You see that tower there?” he asked, pointing to the window.

“Yep,” I said. “That would be the Eiffel Tower.”

“Well, since you didn’t show, I went out on my own… and hey! Ya know what, they don’t speak English here? I went out on my own. (You mentioned that) Walked over to that tower, looked up at it—kicked it—and said to myself, ‘Yep. That there Bartamus, that there is the Eiffel Tower. Then I came back here and took a nap. And would you please tell that France Maid that I do not want no f*#kin’ breakfast? She wakes me up in the f*#king morning with her biscuits (‘croissants’ Asshole) and lousy coffee.”

“Sure Bart,” I said. “I will post a note, en français on yer door.”

“You speak France?”

“Oui.”

“Well Hot Damn then! You be Bogey. I’ll be Bacall.” (of course)

“I weren’t able to bust up the wedding.”

“What?”

“The Wedding.”

“Oh you mean between R and J?”

“Yep. That one, you moron.”

“Yer better off,” he said.

“OK. Then why am I so depressed?”

“Dunno. Did you have any other adventures while you were back In-The-World?”

“Matter of fact, I did. I hooked up with Janet.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. No bullshit. Why I missed my flight, in fact.”

“Well, I was just about pissed off at you, but now I unnerstand.”

“Thanks for that,” I said.

“Hey!” he said. “Let’s smoke a bowl and you can tell me all about it while we go and kick this town in the ass.”

“Light her up,” I said. We smoked and drank and then off we went stoned and semi-drunk and in Paris (France) Just two more ugly Americans (Texans)

Now Y’all…

I hesitated while choosing the vid to represent this post. Then I swerved onto this one below. It is somewhat depressing, yeah. But, but… This is how I see my life ending up. I hope you will take the time to watch, listen, and comment.

Vid Credit: 

John1948SevenA

Cheers,

Lance

To Be Continued… Hopefully.

“Losing his hearing, but he don’t care what most people say.”

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

“I feel like Hank Williams tonight”

JJ Walker

tex flag

Rent – A – Sailor: Part One

Land Down Yonder

Vid/Music Cred: Men at Work

Back in ’89 halfway into my last WestPAC (Western Pacific Deployment) bobbing about in the Pacific, onboard the USS Frederick LST 1184, we had already spent much time in Subic Bay, Hong Kong, Guam, Korea, Fuk-Ya-Mama Japan, and possible some other ‘Ornamental’ ports I do not recall.

Well, we were steaming along in the South Pacific one day when word came down the pike that we had new orders to sail to Sydney.

What?

What?!

Hell Yes!

“But why?” I asked the first ‘Old-Salty-Squiddy’ I could find.

“Some idiots from a tin can (destroyer) dropped a pallet of high explosives on top of the Great Barrier Reef. We have to go retrieve it before shit jumps off. That reef is some kind of fuckin’ national park or something.”

“Why us?”

“Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares? We get to go to Australia! Australia! In Australia, they still LOVE us. There is this thing they do. It’s called ‘Rent-A-Sailor’ and you’ll see.”

“Hell you talking about? ‘Rent-A-Sailor’?”

“When we dock, there will be tons of women on the pier to greet us. They will all have paid real money to ‘host’ us while we are there. They love us. Maybe ‘cause we saved them from the Japs back in doubya doubya two.”

Hostesses for the Most of Us

“I see your point. Sounds great!”

“Just wait. You’ll see,” he said again breathlessly. I must admit, his excitement was contagious.

***

Now, do not get me wong (wrong). I love Southern Pacific Eastern ‘Ornamental’ Women and this is well-documented, but I, we, all of us, were in the mood for a female change of scenery. We wanted to see some ‘Round-Eyes.’ And before anyone accuses me of being ‘racist’ you may want to do some research on my blog—this one—and then get back to me.

All that shit spake…

We turned the Freddy Southbound-and-Down toward Sydney. Estimated steaming time to Australia: three days.

We were all very excited.

I Went looking for the ship’s barber to get me gussied up…

To be continued… Here. Y’all hear??

He Went to Paris: I can smell the Darkness

Yet another one do not read!

paris.jpg

And he went to England; played the piano, married an actress named “Kim:”…  She was a good wife… ‘I’ loved her.

This is a continuation, albeit a flashback, to my story of Janet and Random Memories from The Middle East.

Months before the events inked here, here, here, and here, I found myself in Paris (actually two Paris’s—One Texan—One French). Confus’d yet? Stand by: it grows worse(r)

Let’s back up a mite (mites are hard to back up by the way, militarily that is: damn small and damn slippery, them mites… and they tend to mite-bite one, usually on one’s ass)

We call that “Green on Blue” and if you are following the recent news cycle, you will surely know that, that is inappropriate. But that is just how I roll. Screw Afghanistan and their pretended bullshit “We gonna take over security of our country…” Won’t happen. But after ten plus years there (and some several months there by me, after Iraq–got ‘liberated’–now there is yet another joke. I can speak to the idiocy that is ‘our’ foreign fallacy.

I was in Sinai, 1978 and I received a letter from my step-sis. This was not unusual back in those days, as we were still ‘speaking’. She sent me a rather long and boring letter regarding Honey Grove and all the ‘Happenings’ thereabouts. The letter was indeed ‘boring’ until I got to her ‘PS’. It read and I quote (loosely), “By the way, R is marrying J. Jesus-Beezus!”

This was, to me, devastation by way of bad.

Unspeakable news!

‘How could she?! She was MINE. Mine to mine and to have and to hold… just as soon as I finished with my wanderlust. How dare she?!” How DARE she?!

What to do?

Well, I had some R&R time ‘on the books’ so I hopped on a freighter (airplane), and flew back to Texas, ostensibly to break up the marriage, just like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate. Problem was, was that I screwed up the dates and the logistics, and arrived not in time to bust up the wedding, but just in time to see the happy couple speeding off fast to Waco and their honeymoon.

Shit!

Never having been more depressed at missing a rendezvous, what to do? Rebound Son! Rebound!

So, I sought out Janet. Let’s call it a ‘bank shot rebound.’ I knew she was working at the Hopkins Lamar (See? To this day, I never know which county I am in)  County Courthouse as a probation officer, so I timed (this time, my timing was spot on) my entrance during her lunch break: Intercepted her coming down the stairs of the courthouse.

“Hey Janet!”

“Lance?”

“C’est moi! How’s Trix?”

“You are supposed to be in Egypt,” she said.

“I escaped,” I said. “Wanna have lunch?”

“Uh… Sure. Why not?” (Why not indeed)

We went to lunch. Then she took the rest of the day. We went to her apartment and drank gin. Later that eve, after I had regaled her with fantastical tales of the Middle of the East, she took a drag from her Virginia Slim and asked, “So are you gonna f*#k me tonight, or what?”

I said, “No Ma’am; I am gonna make love to you—something I should have done five years ago.”

So we did—I did—make love to her.

The problem now became that I had a plane to catch to that other Paris: that one in France. The other part of the problem was that my plane was waiting in Houston. I was about five hours at seventy miles per hour away from my Air France plane at Houston Intercontinental. I had to go. Now.

I hit the road to Houston, not really wanting to go, but I had promised my buddy Bart, Black Bart, that I would meet him in Paris on such and such a day. Naturally, I ended up missing my flight and arrived Paree a day late. On the taxi ride from Charles de Gaulle airport we drove under a bridge and the taxi car lost its windshield to a lone rifle shot. (my theory) “Terrorist?” I asked the cabby? (en français).

“Merde!” Was all he said, as he dodged the flying glass. I did not care anyhow, but this rather happenstance occurrence did not bode well for my first day in Gay Paree.

“There’s my hotel!” I exclaimed as he had managed to (somehow) keep driving.

I paid him off, got out of his now mangled, windshield-less cab and made my way into the cheap hotel lobby. Went up to my room, dropped my shit; then went looking for my buddy. Found him at last sitting on his rack, rather sullen in mood. I checked out his room. It had a wonderful view of the Eiffel Tower.

“So Bart,” I asked finally, “What have you done here in The City of Light for twenty-four hours?”

“You see that tower there?” he asked, pointing to the window.

“Yep,” I said. “That would be the Eiffel Tower.”

“Well, since you didn’t show, I went out on my own… and hey! Ya know what, they don’t speak English here? I went out on my own. (You mentioned that) Walked over to that tower, looked up at it—kicked it—and said to myself, ‘Yep. That there Bartamus, that there is the Eiffel Tower. Then I came back here and took a nap. And would you please tell that France Maid that I do not want no f*#kin’ breakfast? She wakes me up in the f*#king morning with her biscuits (‘croissants’ Asshole) and lousy coffee.”

“Sure Bart,” I said. “I will post a note, en français on yer door.”

“You speak France?”

“Oui.”

“Well Hot Damn then! You be Bogey. I’ll be Bacall.” (of course)

“I weren’t able to bust up the wedding.”

“What?”

“The Wedding.”

“Oh you mean between R and J?”

“Yep. That one, you moron.”

“Yer better off,” he said.

“OK. Then why am I so depressed?”

“Dunno. Did you have any other adventures while you were back In-The-World?”

“Matter of fact, I did. I hooked up with Janet.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. No bullshit. Why I missed my flight, in fact.”

“Well, I was just about pissed off at you, but now I unnerstand.”

“Thanks for that,” I said.

“Hey!” he said. “Let’s smoke a bowl and you can tell me all about it while we go and kick this town in the ass.”

“Light her up,” I said. We smoked and drank and then off we went stoned and semi-drunk and in Paris (France) Just two more ugly Americans (Texans)

Now Y’all…

I hesitated while choosing the vid to represent this post. Then I swerved onto this one below. It is somewhat depressing, yeah. But, but… This is how I see my life ending up. I hope you will take the time to watch, listen, and comment.

Vid Credit: 

John1948SevenA

Cheers,

Lance

To Be Continued… Hopefully.

“Losing his hearing, but he don’t care what most people say.”

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

“I feel like Hank Williams tonight”

JJ Walker

tex flag