I Am Such a MORON! Just For Fun Re-Run: “Psychiatrist Interrogation,” or “Last F*ckin’ Chance For Romance Asshole!”

“If I Only Had A Brain…”

Attractive Young Psychiatrist Nancy began her questioning in earnest:

“How long have you been drinking?”

“All my life,” I said.

“No, I mean recently.”

“Oh, ‘bout forty days and forty nights.”

(No chuckle; guess she was gonna be all business from this point.)

“Do you feel like hurting yourself? She asked.

“Pretty certain that is what I am doing right now. You ever been on a ‘forty day/night drunk?”

“Have you ever attempted suicide?”

“Of course,” I replied. “Hasn’t everyone?”

“How many times?” She went on.

“Only twice, but they obviously didn’t take.”

“When was this? At what age?”

“First time, I was thirteen. Second time nineteen.”

“And what prompted these two attempts?”

“First time because my football shoes were too tight, excruciatingly so, and this was affecting my performance and my passionate desire to become a High School Football Star.”

“Describe your attempt.”

“I pointed a locked and loaded , hammer back, .45 Caliber pistol at the roof of my mouth for about 5 seconds, finger on the trigger.”

“And the second?’ she asked.

“Oh, that was just over a woman. I would not call that unprecedented in the ‘History of Man.’”

“Describe this attempt please.”

“Well, as I said, it was over being dumped by a woman, a thirty-year old woman and it was also over the fact that I could no longer afford the car payments on my Chevy Monza 2 Plus 2.  So I drank a pint of vodka and at a high rate of speed on a deserted Texas FM Road, turned a hard right and flipped the car. Thrice. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“Were you abused as a child?”

“Do you mean do I hate my mother?” I asked.

“No. Were you ever abused?”

“My Grandfather shot at me with a deer rifle once, but he had cause because I had just a few moments earlier knocked him off the porch with a pretty good right hook to the jaw.”

“Why did you hit him?”

“He was trying to beat my Grandmother and she asked for help. Granddaddy was a mean drunk.”

“How old were you?” She asked.

“’Bout fourteen and change.”

“Does alcoholism run in your family?”

“Naw, it just kinda strolls. I mean, far as I know, it was just me and Granddaddy.”

“Do you want to stop drinking, Lance?”

“Yes. I don’t fancy dying just yet. I’m not ready.”

“Not ready to die, or not ready to quit drinking?”

“The dying part.”

“So, you’d like help?”


I watched her on the screen as she appeared to be writing a short essay on her note pad. After about  two minutes, she looked up and said,

“OK Lance. I am going to make arrangements to send you to a hospital in Garland. They have better resources to help you than here in Commerce.”

“How long will I be there? I am a busy man, ya know? OK, just kidding, but can you give me an idea?”

“Probably three days or so to get you past the delirium tremens and not sure how many after that. Are you willing to go to this hospital and allow them to help you?”

“I never much cared for Garland, but sure. One problem though, I cannot drive it just now.”

“The Hospital will make arrangements to have you transported, so don’t worry about that. You just try to focus on the treatment they will give you.” She said.

“TRANSPORTED??? “What am I? A truck farm product?”

“Thank you Doc, I will. And, by the way, I am sorry for being a smartass, but I suppose you get that a lot, dealing with drunks and mental cases. I do appreciate your time and your help. Thank you.”

“It’s Okay Lance. I am going to talk to the staff now at your Hospital and begin making the necessary arrangements. Take good care.” She said and then severed the connection.

I got out of bed and returned the IPAD to the Staff Desk and thanked them.

“How’d it go?” One of the staff asked.

“Did Ya know, you can’t get Netflix on this thing?”

Unnamed Staff laughed.

Finally! (Love it when I can make someone laugh)

“It went just Jim Dandy, I suppose. Looks like I will be leaving Y’all soon.” I said, and then returned to my little Hospital Cave.

And waited.

To Be Continued…

Chapter One Here  

Chapter Two Here Escape From Memphis–Chapter Two

Chapter Three Here Escape From Memphis—Chapter Three—Shawn.

Chapter Six Here  Escape From Memphis—Chapter Six

Chapter Eight Here  Escape From Memphis Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine Here  Escape From Memphis–Chapter Nine


Last Chance Texico

Continue reading

More Michelle! G’damn! How did I Manage to Fuk This One Up? I Musta Really Worked Hard At It.

On First Meeting Michelle—Did Not Go So Well–It Got Better, But Then I Screw’d It Up. As Is My Usual Wont.

There Seems To Be A Pattern Developing Here

The Beatles Live- Michelle My Belle:

Cred for Vid Share: Maco939


It Got Better, But Then I F*#ked It Up. (As Usual) And if You are Assuming, Presuming, It Was Physical Abuse, Then You Are Deluded. And Have Not ‘Read’ Me—It Was ‘Neglect’ On My Part: Michelle Expected More From Me Than I Was Capable of Giving.

That Was It. I am An Idiot! I Threw Away The Love of A Good Woman and a Kindred Spirit. She Was My Chance to Grasp That Brass Ring! A Military Woman–Whom I Respected! A True Patriot! And A Bona-Fide Sailor! And Like A Fool, I Just Let Her Walk Away.

I Know This Photo Below Is A Brit She-Sailor,

But I Love Her Face


She Is ALMOST As Beautiful


“My Michelle”

Michelle, ma belle
These are words that go together well
My Michelle
Michelle, ma belle
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
Tres bien ensemble
I love you, I love you, I love you
That’s all I want to say
Until I find a way
I will say the only words I know that you’ll understand

Author’s Note:

This Was Yet Another Relationship That I Managed to Mangle & Fuck Up.


Let Her Slip Away

Yes! I Have Regrets!

In The Recruit Training Command at That time There Was A Volunteer Program We Could “Volunteer” For. It Was Called “Saturday Scholars” One Could Get Out of Saturday Duty if one Signed Up.

Michelle and I Signed Up.

The ‘Program’ Was to go to The Inner-City Ghettos of Chicago and Tutor Poor Black Kids. Michelle and I Were actually Very Sincere About This ‘Work’ and We Bonded Every Saturday as we rode the Bus To Chicago.

We Wanted to do Good Work–Serve The Community–Honorably Represent Our Navy.

Which We Both Loved Equally

I loved her very much–Even More Than The Navy

We Were Cut From The Same Cloth, I Thought, but as I said,

I Eventually Managed to Fuck That Up Somehow

I am very Good In This Regard

Call me An ‘Overachiever’ If You Must

South Park: In the Ghetto:


Elvis Presley – In the Ghetto


Dateline: Late 1985

Time: 0800 hrs.

Geographical Location: Great Mistakes Naval Training Center—Just south of Chicago.

Venue: A Navy Auditorium

Suspect: One Ricky-Recruit, AKA

“Marcom-The Moron”

*Slips now into first-person narrative*

I had arrived just a little later than was prudent.

Hence, no seats in the back of the venue.

Searched about. Scanning…

Only open seats were in the front row.


I took myself up-front, found a seat next to a serious-looking blond she-sailor, decked out in freshly pressed dress blues. AJ-Squared-Away, she was.

Old Military / Sailor Saw: “Never sit up front and never volunteer for nothin.

I had already broken the first rule. I was about to Break The Second…


I was in dungarees—not pressed. Certainly not ‘AJ-Squared away’… slightly hung-over, if I am aiming at honest narrative here.

‘Under-Dressed’ does not even come close.

I had plopped down to her starboard.

Risked a look at her.

(I had already lost myself in her eyes)

She sensed my gaze, looked me dead in my eye and said,

“What are you staring at Sailor? Hi. My name is Michelle. What’s yours?” She said as she extended her hand.

I shook her hand and was surprised to experience a very firm grip/handshake.

A Naval Officer took to the old, very old wooden podium and began his spiel, trying to sell us on ‘Saturday Scolars.’ and drag out some volunteers.

Michelle went Eyes-Front: Intensely paying serious Military Attention.

I did not.

I kept gazing at her…

To the point of being too obvious.

Oh! And BTW, it did not escape me that she was a 3rd Class Petty Officer.

And an ‘ET–Electronics Techincian’

An E-4

She seriously ‘out-ranked’ me–in Brains and Beauty

And, obvious to me:

Out-Classed me.

In the Nav, we called them ‘IPO’s

“Instant Petty Officer”

If you Graduate from the ‘Right Navy School,’ you are auto-magically promoted.

I was, my own self, enrolled in such a school, but the successful end game—of MY Graduation—was tenuous at best.

Not my intent to bash Y’all over the head with a not-so-subtle…

But this do serve my narrative.

Serves it well…

Oh Well….

Credit: Ethereal Music

To be continued…


This is STUPID–Read it Anyway. Bob Dylan & Me

Back in some day (mine) when I had been recently introduced to pot, I found me in my step-sister’s bedroom.

A guy came in (yes, he was a ‘guy’–older–I was twelve), and he pointed to a poster on the wall of my step-sis. (The poster was of Bob Dylan).

‘The guy’ asked me, or rather demanded of me:

“Do you know how Dylan writes his songs?”

“Nope,” I replied.

“He writes all the lyrics and then  cuts them out and then scatters them about and then pieces them back again and sends them off.

“Are you from England?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

And fuk YeaH!

I have read Melville.

I have read “Moby Dick”

“Call me Ismael”

(Yes. I am too sensitive)

And I’d Like to Stay That Way

Never mind.

(Oh, and I murdered a turkey over this–never mind that it was five years hence–just details)

What-The-Fuk?! YES! This Is A RANT! Just Quietly Slink Away Renee.

Idiot Running Rampant!

Secret Service!

Please LOCK

This Brain-Dead



“Don’T Sugar Coat It Lance;

Tell Us How You Really Feel.”

(Sorry Kids; I Could Not Find The Actual Quote)

Biden Considering Emergency War Powers

Against Oil Companies”





How is Punishing

The Energy Sector

Gonna Help?


Joe! You Are A Stupid Asshole Mo’Fukk’er!

(Is My ‘Currant’ State Of ‘Pissed Off Mind “MInd Too Subtle?)

Let’s just set fire to the whole fukken country Joseph!

Why Not?!

Cred: Salt Man

My Frath-Coming ‘Biden’ Post–I’ll Git Back To… To Too Much Into ‘Happiness’–Tuit, Screw It!–Work In I Die-Gress! Progress. Bye And Bye Bye! And Bye-Bye Bye Bye! Ed. Note:

You Can’t Fix / Break In-Her-

Ain’t Happiness!


“Stupid Is As Stupid Does”


Street Cred:

Ron White!




Crank Up The Volume!

Go On:

Get Happy!


Round Tuit!