Donald Trump (Ahem)

The Greatest Reality Show On Earth

I just might vote TRUMP.

Why not?

(And what’s wrong with Big Hair anyhow?! Even I, your humble servant, used to have Big Hair–Then I learned to read.)

I mean, honestly, The Prez really don’t have power anymore, c’mon People!

Sampson hair notwithstanding. Don’t believe me? Ask Obama. Or…

Take a look at the Nineteen-Nineties. Clinton, try as he might, had no way to stifle the dot.com prosperity, precarious precipice that it was. (Not that he would have wanted to, but…hey! Outta his control)

Wally-World, et al, took that bull (my pun) by the horns and killed the messenger. (Oh! And the simple fact that the 1920’s had no intrinsic value, historically squeaking, that is.) And the other simple fact that all good deeds go punish’d. And the other simple fact that America, MY America always… well, never mind.

‘Nother case in point: LBJ.

He dreamed of the ‘Great Society’ almost made it, save for that little problem in Southeast Asia. (He coulda been a contender, instead of a bum)

(Brando Warning Here!)

Nuff said: We have now come to the era of “Not-So-Great-Presidents.”

They mean nothing, vis-à-vis, The World Order.

They have been reduced to fodder.

Fodder for CNN, Fox, SNL, and The ‘Honey Grove Senile Citizen’ (my hometown rag)

So…

Why not Trump? I mean, with no mean meaning, why not? He will entertain. He will give CNN, Fox, et al, something to pontificate over (“Never end a sentence with a preposition Lance”—sorry—my bad)

I love The Donald: he has made an uninteresting (for news junkies) year…

Funny.

And I do love funny.

Merry Christmas and see you at the voting booth (I will be that embarrassing uncle in the back with a scotch in his hand and a Marlboro in his lips—pontificating about ‘LBJ’, The Great Society, and wearing the Nixon-Now-More-Than-Ever…T-Shirt.

And saying, ad nausea: “I told you so…”

Shamelessly, I just finished re-reading “Grapes of Wrath” or… in other words: I am with Bernie Sanders on this Deal Folks.

And never forget this:

Or this, regarding ‘Third-Party-Politics” (for those of you astute in The American Political Prophesy):

And, Yes, Virginia: Trump is a “Ring-Tail-Tooter.”

Me no Alamo.

-Lancer

 

I Have Spent A Lot of My ‘Dear Years’…

“Dear (fill in the name) I am so sorry we are apart, but you see, I am serving… something, something greater, something important, something, some power, Uh, My ego. See you soon. Love, Lance”

Away from my Homeland.

Yes.

I have.

My Choice.

Fyodor-Dostoevsky-Quotes-4

Sometimes in Service of my Country.

Sometimes in Service of Lance.

But, always, always, In Service  of That Great American Dream.

I came home from Iraq in ’09.

Went to Kandahar in ’11.

Came home late ’12.

Guess what?

There is no American Dream no mas.

The Bureaucrats killed it. 

I am a Patriot.

I love my country.

I served my ‘Country’.

But now, I do not recognize my country.

Now, I am leaning to socialism.

This post is but a beginning.

I am not gonna bore y’all with Lenny and Sarah, and bullshit anymore.

I am gonna bore you with reality.

The Reality.

Stay tuned.

For those of Y’all ‘Fraid of the NSA, well, bow out now gracefully. I have no fear, but I am old and have nothing to lose. And to quote Bette Davis: “Fasten Your Seatbelts; it’s going to be a bumpy night.”

And, Yes! I am not stupid. I do recognize the dichotomy of the diametrically opposed points of the two songs I present below for your perusal. You must sort out your own feelings.

Now, some would argue, “Lance is just living in his past; he is craving for the days when Revolution was a real possibility”

Some might say that.

I say, “There is no better time than the present, to take it up; because things now, are really fucked up.”

“Wake up!”

Wake the hell up, America!

My Country!

I love my America.

I truly do.

-Lance 

 

This is Directed Toward All My Minority Friends Out There in Radio Land

And No: I am not talking ‘race’ here.

Hell! I don’t even own a Ferrari.

I am talking booze. Talking to the Juicers out there.

Here is my query:

Do you often (more often than not) catch yourself scratching notes?

Dear God

I mean, you have a great idea for a post, but are too inebriated to write it, and too afraid to sleep on it, lest you forget it: Lose it?

So… ya just ‘make a note’.

No matter that you won’t be able to read the note the next day sober, as it only makes sense when you are drunk–now therein lies that ‘Catch-22’, but at least you made the effort.

Right?

Right?

Talk to me Peeps!

(I really do not wanna be alone with this one.)

Cheers,

Lance

P.S.

Yes, I am a Socialist, Humanist, and All-Around Nice-Guy. i.e.,

I won’t let my dog shit on your driveway.

And Hey!

Thanks for stopping by.

We do hope you have enjoyed your time here.

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