May Be Worth A Re-Look-See. Then Again, Maybe Not–“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.

‘Fittin’’

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.

Anyway…

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)

Yet.

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.

Peace,

Lance

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,

Lance

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!)

–Lance

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

&

Do NOT

Fuck With Lance

He Looks Nice

But He Bites

Just Some

‘Friendly’

Advice:

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…” 

UpDated: More Vids! “Must Watch” For Film Buffs: “Why Modern Movies Suck”–Critical Drinker. Continuing Series

*******

Episode Two:

Why Modern Movies Suck – Destroying Our Heroes

Black Panther is the Most Overrated MCU Movie Ever

Prometheus – The Franchise Killer

Alien Covenant – Why Does This Movie Even Exist?

*****

Eposode One:

Why Modern Movies Suck – They’re Written By Children

*****

Why The Past Matters

Why Canon Matters

Why Modern Movies Suck – Setup And Payoff

What Happened To Our Villains?

*****

All Street Cred Goes To

“The Critical Drinker”

https://www.youtube.com/c/TheCriticalDrinker

My Idol

My Hero

My Spirit Animal

Scottish Arsehole!

******

Bonus Becuz I’M A Bitter Asshole:

I HATE HOLLYWOOD THESE DAYS!

THEY ARE RUINING OUR RICH AMERICAN CULTURE!

^^^^^^

Avatar – The Most Successful Failure Ever

Cred: The Critical Drinker

****

Masters of the Universe: Revelation – Absolute Disaster

Masters Of The Universe Part 2 – This Time It’s Farcical

Cred: The Critical Drinker

****

No Time To Die – The End Of James Bond

Cred: Crit Drinker

******

Defeminizing Female Characters

Cred: Crit Drinker

Some “Must Watch” For Film Buffs: “Why Modern Movies Suck”–Critical Drinker. Continuing Series

*******

Episode Two:

Why Modern Movies Suck – Destroying Our Heroes

*****

Eposode One:

Why Modern Movies Suck – They’re Written By Children

*****

All Street Cred Goes To

“The Critical Drinker”

https://www.youtube.com/c/TheCriticalDrinker

My Idol

My Hero

My Spirit Animal

Scottish Arsehole!

******

Bonus Becuz I’M A Bitter Asshole

I HATE HOLLYWOOD THESE DAYS!

THEY ARE RUINING OUR RICH AMERICAN CULTURE!

^^^^^^

Avatar – The Most Successful Failure Ever

Cred: The Critical Drinker

Dried up Ink, In Cooperated.

Street Fucking Cred: MC Lars (I love THIS!)

It is brilliant.

(It is slow to load, but worth the wait.)

Flow Like Poe

I have had this old story bouncing about in my head

When I took that ‘Creative Writing’ class at University, back after Navy Daze, the only assignment was to write, publish, write, write….

just one

Just one

Just one short story.

Oh, of course, we stuffed Edgar Allen into our heads…

He was the ‘inventor’ of the short story:

“Quoth that Raven! Never more!”

Yeah.

What ever ever.

Elenore?

You bore.

Anyhow….

I wrote a ‘semi-short’ story about a dice degenerate in Las Vegas.

His story went south for him.

He ended up in a very bad place.

Wanna read it?

The orig perished in that fire my last set…

But I may be able to recreate re-erect, restrict, resurrection it.

Let me know.

Fiction ain’t really my genre, as you know.

Friction!?

Yeah! I can do that!

Aw Hell! Thursday is Coming: “Don’t Rain Shit On My Parade”

The version I wanted, but WordPress is stupid.

“Three A.M., it’s me again.”

Three A.M. and I was in the middle of a dream about ‘Shit River’ in Ologapo City, Philippines. (Freud would’ve loved me)

Then I woke up.

Woke up to a very un-dreamy-like smell of real shit. Real potent shit. Horrible smelling shit. Knock a buzzard off a shit wagon smelling shit.

I was living in an old two-story house in Commerce. Just outside my bedroom was the walk-in closet where I kept all the clothes I owned. I have never owned much in the way of clothes, by the way.

I heard something dripping like rain behind the door, but it wasn’t raining outside. I opened the door and sure as shit, shit was raining down from the ceiling.  All over my clothes. Spattering on the floor. My Chow Mix doggie, Tizzy, was obviously responsible.

Chow

I went around the corner, and there  he was  in that dog-taking-a-shit posture at the top of the stairway: Obviously with a really bad case of the doggie drizzling shits.

Took me until seven a.m. to clean up the shit and wash all my clothes.

I called in sick to work telling my boss,

“I feel like shit.”

Please Don’t Shit in my Showers (a revisit)

Please show some love.

Dispatches From Afghanistan: Mouses, Goats, and Snakes Oh My!

The Jordanians are coming: Specifically the JAF. (Jordanian Armed Forces) They will be living here in my LSA 2. Wonderful. Each of my tents have a capacity of 120 U.S. Marines. They ain’t comphy, but they cozy and U.S. Marines do not complain. They are Marines. The JAF contingent will top off at one hundred. They have been promised three of my tents. The math doesn’t work for me. I need every tent I have (twenty-four) to serve the Marines who transit through Dwyer on their way to the war.

After some lobbying (and predictions of pissed off Marines who won’t have a tent to sleep in), I got the JAF allocation down to two tents. Why after all these years the Jordanian government has decided to send troops to southern Afghanistan, I am not sure. But I have a theory:  U.S. Department of State. Yep. Not military necessity. Not a request from the coalition of governments already represented here. Not the U.S. Military. Nope. Politics.

I have nothing against Jordan or the Jordanian people. In fact, I love them. I lived and worked in Amman Jordan for six months back in ‘07 while working to close out the paperwork on the USAID Rural Water Project we had completed in Iraq. (Bechtel, the prime contractor, had decided there was no point to continually put our lives at risk in Iraq doing paperwork we could just as easily finish in their Jordan offices).

I had a meeting with the Mayor’s Cell here on Dwyer. (The ‘Mayor’s Cell’ is the term used for the administrative branch of the Marines who actually own Camp Dwyer.) All decisions of the Mayor are final. Except, I found out, when it comes to the JAF and their accommodations.  Apprehensive over the impending arrival of the Jordanians, I asked the Mayor, “Does the Mayor’s Cell have any special directive for treatment of the JAF?”

wpid-IMG_0685-2011-06-26-11-39

“Not at all Son. Treat ‘em like Marines.”

“Yessir!” (This was the response I had been hoping for)

With the help of the Labor Department and a few of my staff, I readied the two tents for the Jordanians. We were told to expect roughly one hundred men, so we set up fifty-five military cots in each tent. These tents in LSA 2 are best described as ‘Spartan.’ There are four ‘doors’ which are simply canvas flaps about four feet wide. When the wind is up the flaps flap open allowing Afghanistan to blow inside. The occupants are not allowed to tie the flaps shut, as this creates a safety hazard in the event of a fire—no quick egress. Each of the tents has two HVAC units. They are inadequate for the weather extremes here. The tents are in disrepair. They leak, they sag, they have mold. I cannot get approval from the Mayor’s Cell through DynCorp to provide anything more than patchy maintenance. “A lick and a promise.” That’s all. They tell me, “No more funding is available for LSA 2. Deal with it.”

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