Tag Archives: The Beatles

In My Time Zone…

by

9

It remains Thursday.

Some bug in my head reminded me as September rapidly  approaches…

An anniversary 

As we celebrate freedom…

Well, Here is a video preamble:

And I aim to keep my promise.

(This one is personal, and no need to read. Just a thing I do as September crowds me, and bad dreams haunt me)

***

Here:

In 1971 when my step-sister Madelyn and I were fourteen and thirteen respectively, my parents would often go out of town on the weekends. My father and stepmother seemed to always have some magic convention or gathering to attend in Dallas, Houston, Kansas City, or any number of other venues. My father knew all the local high school kids from his directing of the senior plays every year. Two of the former graduates, Ronnie and Doug, then about twenty years old, remained very good friends of my father and particularly Ronnie, (who was Peanut’s Uncle). My father decided that Madelyn and I needed a ‘baby-sitter’ while he and Gloria were off on their long weekends, so they paid Doug and Ronnie to look after us.

Now mind you, Madelyn and I were both pretty certain we were over-mature for our age and could easily fend for ourselves, but we loved having two “big brothers” to help us throw the greatest parties in the history of Honey Grove while under their tutelage. We used Marcom Manor as our venue of course and were always in a rush to get the house back into some semblance of order before the folks returned, usually on a Sunday, but occasionally on a Monday or Tuesday.

During Labor Day Weekend of 1971 my parents were off to a big convention in Houston and we had a great party planned for Sunday the Fifth of September. We were to have ‘The Mother of All Parties’ out at Lake Coffeemill, north of Honey Grove. (The party was going to serve double duty for me, as my fourteenth birthday was just five days away.)  Right up until the night before, I had no date lined up for this all-day Blow-Out, and I was in a panic.

Continue reading →

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

by

49

“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 

 

Daily Lenny: Judge Sapperstein & This, Has Turned Into a Rant. Sorry…

by

14

Friends, Romans, (Progressive Texans) & Others:

(Don’t some of Y’all hate to be classified as ‘Others’?

Smacks of Intellectual Racism to me, but that’s just me.)

Don’t you fain to disclaim?

Me no Alamo!

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

How the fuck does it feel?

To be on the long side of the short fence?

For Real?

Lend Me Your Beers!

(And yer FB password. Trust Me. I’m with the Government.)

Here is your (once again belated) Daily Lenny:

And Thanks for Listening, wherever you are.

Let The Buyer Beware

And now I am gonna step out on a limb and say this:

I am with my Brothers and Sisters in the Ukraine.

Keep your eyes on the prize.

(And I do not speak that flippantly; I mean it. The whole world is watching)

Oh, and thanks for listening (Did I say that already?)

Well hell! Appreciation can never be over-played (if it is sincere)

In this case, rest assur’d it is (“Hey Madge?! Did he mean ‘over-played’ or ‘sincere’? Can never get a ‘read’ on this schmuck.”)

Cheers to all.

And if you’d get a kick reading/hearing more about it, go here:

http://texantales.com/category/lenny-bruce/

Simply because, “An uneducated proletariat is a danger to freedom.”

That is My Lance Quote; I just made it up. But, Goddamn it! I do believe it.

“Aw Shit! Lance dun gone Commie on us!. Git a rope!”

Not at all. Nope. Cool yer Heels Cowboy! Lance just knows something has gone horribly wrong…with His Texas, and more importantly, with His America. It used to be His America.

Now, it seems. It ain’t.

*End of Rant*

If you have come thus far…

Well; you are a Commie!

(Just kidding)

And of course…My National Anthem:

Just for Multi-Media Attention:

If You don’t want to stand in-line…well… REFORM

(If Y’all don’t catch my drift… well then:

I am writing with no ink in my virtual pen.

And the line forms to the right. 

Get in-line!

And have fun.

And y’all thought I was bull-shitting when I posted a previous Rant:

Wake Up Lance!

I was speaking To America.

My America.

Addendum:

I just recently completed a Mark Twain Marathon, by Ken Burns.

“Good for you, Lance Marcom; we are happy you are soooo.. much into (Our) American History…”

I wanted such a telegram, but, alas, there are no telegrams today.

So, it may seem I was born too late…

For such Liberty.

No matter.

WE, We, WE can forge our own liberty, in that same same spirit.

If we have the wherewithal.

Alas, I fear we have not.

We have the Constitution; we have The Law of Our Land; we have Our Precedent…

Alas, we have not the will

The Will, we lack . Today .

This was to be… a simple American Call to Arms.

Alas, I do not know if I am young enuff to muster:

My time has long since past.

I have not the passion to fight yet another war.

Lord knows (and that is a metaphor) I have NOT  the will, nor the strength to fight such a war, yet, I am there, in spirit. I would gladly die for MY Country: My long lost America.

Rebel? Most Certainly.

Rebellious against my country?

Never

Therein lies that dilemma,

Not I! For I am too old, and this kind of business falls to younger men

BUT, when I see the masses, the masses, in squalor, I get pissed.

Really pissed.

When CEO’s in this country make ten thousand times more than the workers…

Well, it upsets me.

(any geographical or grammatical errors are surely mine. I do apologize)

These opinions are solely mine own.

Yet, I welcome our modern-day NSA to come knock on MY DOOR.

I certainly do.

Now…

I can finally be sated (for now)

And…I am gonna continue with this for some few weeks, until I give up…

But, Y’all know, when I get unto a ‘kick’ I hang on.

So…we shall see.

–Lance Out

Wow Lance! THAT was some long-winded RANT!

heheheheh

No Worries: Nobody Read it but The NSA of the USA.

There’s somethin’ happening Here…

 

 

 

“Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.”–W. Shakespeare

by

37

In 1971 when my step-sister Madelyn and I were fourteen and thirteen respectively, my parents would often go out of town on the weekends. My father and stepmother seemed to always have some magic convention or gathering to attend in Dallas, Houston, Kansas City, or any number of other venues. My father knew all the local high school kids from his directing of the senior plays every year. Two of the former graduates, Ronnie and Doug, then about twenty years old, remained very good friends of my father and particularly Ronnie, (who was Peanut’s Uncle). My father decided that Madelyn and I needed a ‘baby-sitter’ while he and Gloria were off on their long weekends, so they paid Doug and Ronnie to look after us.

Now mind you, Madelyn and I were both pretty certain we were over-mature for our age and could easily fend for ourselves, but we loved having two “big brothers” to help us throw the greatest parties in the history of Honey Grove while under their tutelage. We used Marcom Manor as our venue of course and were always in a rush to get the house back into some semblance of order before the folks returned, usually on a Sunday, but occasionally on a Monday or Tuesday.

During Labor Day Weekend of 1971 my parents were off to a big convention in Houston and we had a great party planned for Sunday the Fifth of September. We were to have ‘The Mother of All Parties’ out at Lake Coffeemill, north of Honey Grove. (The party was going to serve double duty for me, as my fourteenth birthday was just five days away.)  Right up until the night before, I had no date lined up for this all-day Blow-Out, and I was in a panic.

Continue reading →

Addams’ Family Values

by

15

Marcom Manor

You will undoubtedly notice the absence of one “Lance A. Marcom” in the list of family members surviving Ralph A. Marcom.  I was, after all, the “Black Sheep.” I have, since the publishing of this obit,

http://marcomthemountebank.com/marcomobit.htm

spoken to Bill Palmer, (Its author and actually a very good friend of mine now.) regarding this and he told me that it—ME—must have slipped his mind, as I was always thousands of miles away in some desert or similar out of touch “shit hole.”

Thanks Bill.

When my father met my mother he was studying French and Drama. That really couldn’t pay the bills, so he later (forced by his father) became a physician, but not before working as a Disc Jockey in almost every small-town hick radio station in Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri. He also had a late night TV show in Kansas City in the early Sixties, dressing up as Dracula or Satan, running horror movies and doing all the commercials (Think Elvira in reverse drag). I lived with him and my first step-mother there in Kansas City for a brief spell (before my mother hired a private detective, tracked me down, and kidnapped me back—another story how/why all that had to happen) and don’t remember much of it, except hating my ‘evil’ stepmother (she forced liver down me, which I found disgusting then, but love now.). Years later I discovered she wasn’t all that ‘evil’ and that the only reason she forced me to eat liver was that it was ‘good for me.’ Okay, maybe she was evil.

Anyway…

Many years later, after doing that nickel (prison ‘vernacular’) in Fremont and a short stint with my maternal grandparents in east Texas, I moved  in with my father in Honey Grove and second stepmother (most decidedly more ‘evil’ than the first, and in more subtle and damaging ways, especially for a boy who was ‘coming of age’ and with all the teenage angst that that manifests.)

My father had purchased a three and a half story Victorian house (circa ‘Texas Victorian’ 1880) in HG and remodeled it beautifully.

The place resembled the mansion inhabited by The Addams Family. Literally. Daddy (Texans always call their fathers “Daddy” even when they are in their fifties–don’t ask me why because I don’t know) was by then a proper doctor, but his passion was magic (anything to keep performing, it would seem) and he was very good at it. His specialty was ‘close up’ and he did become a semi-famous person, at least in the Magic Community. He also performed at Scarborough Faire, a semi-famous annual Renaissance Festival held in Waxahachie (Texas of course).

Continue reading →