The Greatest Story Ever Sold

(Most likely offensive to ‘People of Faith’–read at your own annoyance) 

****

The Greatest Story Ever Told (If told at Woodstock)

(And seriously Y’all, y’all need to watch the video First)

But before we go there enter:

This Post Will PISS some people Off (IF I am doing my job)

However I do NOT want to Piss Anyone Off (Not my job)

Ambiguous? Yeah!

So, therefore, and furthermore, and forevermore: I put below the ‘continue reading’ button.

And don’t shoot me: I just play piano here… on Tuesdays… and for milk money… for the kids.

The video is germane. Watch it.

Cheers, Peace, Blessings, Love and Happiness & Joy (and I do mean all of that shit. Sincerely. Hey by the way, Anyone seen Joy? She was just here a minute ago…)

Cast of Characters:

Mary, Mother Mary, Virgin Mary, Mother of All Inventions.

Woodstock_Mary

 

Joseph, Joe, Just Plain Joe, Cuckold, Erstwhile Surrogate Father of Jesus.

Woodstock_Joeseph

Ya gotta love Joe. Ya just gotta.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baby Jesus, aka Baby Hey Zeus, aka, Christmas… Pre-sents

Woodstock_Baby_Jesus

Not even gonna comment on this one, but, be my guest.

Woodstock_Saint_Peter

Saint Peter

 

 

 

Woodstock_Young_Jesus_Struggling_Musician

Jesus Playing with the Mothers of Immaculate Conception, circa 0014 AD

 

 

 

 

 

Jesus grew up; tried to make a living, Playing Gigs.

But then…

Father told him to hang a right at Albequerky: Go to Max Yasgur’s farm in Bethel; see the people they will love your act. (He said)

Jesus_Arrives_1

You Really Didn’t Believe That “Rode Into Town on an Ass” bit did you?

“Would Jesus wear a Rolex on his TV show? Fuck Yeah!”

No! Seriously,”

“Check it out”

Jesus_Arrives_2

“I’m There Dude!”

falwell

Brother Failwell

Then Dad said, “Go Preach Your Ass Off!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Woodstock_Sermon_On_The_Mount
Sermon on The Mount 
(Chip off The Old Block)

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Jesus Said, “We’re there Dude! Just look at ‘em!”

 

Woodstock_Flock

Case Rested

 

Woodstock_Decided

Yay! Jesus!

 

 

 

 

 

 

“They’re eatin’ this shit up!
Hey! Judas! Come check this out!

Woodstock_Judas

Judas: Enema needing to Happen. “Nothing to see here; move along…”

 

Mary Mag! You too! (C’mere Baby!)”

“Sorry Dude. Busy. Get back to me, Yeah? Laters…BFF!”

“But Mary!? You carry… My Mom’s name! And now you tarry? Don’t make no sense!”

Woodstock_Mary_Mag2
“Ah shit!
Here come those Romanians Again! Don’t these people ever give up? Gotta go!”

Woodstock_The_Romans

I love the smell of burnt Jesus in the morning

“As God as My Wit-less-ness, I shall never be hungry again! (As long as I have these radishes)”

Last Supper

Last Toke, I mean Last Munchies

 

Woodstock_Last_Supper

Joe! Go Pick some Radishes. Jesus is hungry. And stop smokin’ that shit!

I did not put in The Crucifixion/Ressurection, (mainly because I don’t believe that shit and also because I could not find an example in the show) and also, mainly because at

Woodstock… drum roll please:

nobody had to die to save me.

It’s OK Jesus: I’m doin’ fine, but Thank You for askin’.

And Thank YOU to anyone who has travell’d this far with me.

Cheers,
Lance

P.S. “And don’t touch my bags if you please…mister customs man.

 

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 

 

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

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?)

Continue reading

The Greatest Story Ever Sold

The Greatest Story Ever Told (If told at Woodstock)

(And seriously Y’all, y’all need to watch the video First)

But before we go there enter:

This Post Will PISS some people Off (IF I am doing my job)

However I do NOT want to Piss Anyone Off (Not my job)

Ambiguous? Yeah!

So, therefore, and furthermore, and forevermore: I put below the ‘continue reading’ button.

And don’t shoot me: I just play piano here… on Tuesdays… and for milk money… for the kids.

Click at your own risk.

Cheers, Peace, Blessings, Love and Happiness & Joy (and I do mean all of that shit. Sincerely. Hey by the way, Anyone seen Joy? She was just here a minute ago…)

Continue reading

It is (Still) Morning (Mourning?) in America!

“Oh shit!” ‘Sorry Ronnie Toopac… Nancy’Melania!

It is ‘SundayTuesday  Wednesday in Amerika!

“Let us watch ‘The Golf’ read my tweets!”

agusta

“Huge vivla la diff’ eh’?”

“Oh Me ah me! What ever do you mean?” (Said Nancy Melania)

“Ah shit Nancy! Melania! I mean it is morning in Amerka! Didn’t I say that?!”

“No, you are a Commie if you did!”

Nancy! Melania! I am soooo Sorry! I lost my place! Here was I, back in the Eighties! Working for law and land! Money, lust, and US!

I even enlisted! I served my Country! What did I get? Bupkis!” What did I get? Rich!

“Butt… We (Ronnie and I—don’t he look cute—riding that horsey? Honey?—Now…what were you saying? You middle class? Oh Yeah! Something  about entitlements?”)

“Uh! Ya know what? Nancy? Mel? Never mind. We got ours. And ya know what? We got that Commie Bastard!—That Gorbo-chov!  That Puttie… God Bless America!”

“But… where is the money?”

“for America?”

For us?

Where is our prosperity?

I thought we won the war?

Where? Where are the fruits?

They just evaporated.

Didn’t they?

“I made enuff money to buy Miami, but I pissed it away so fast…”

–Jimmy Buffett

“Just say no,” “Make US Great”  was all she said, as she walked away.

(The conversation is ambiguous, waxes and wanes, for a reason: we are all to blame)

“You let ’em come home…” America.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

We all should be allowed to come home. After all: it is the only place that stays open–all night.

The US of US is the only place that stays open all night. For All. We sort em out, once they (manage) to get here.

The US of US is the only place that stays open all night. For All. We sort em out, once they (manage) to get here.

For All.

California on my Mind & Texas in my Heart

California

Loved it. Hated it. Few decades ago I could truthfully say, “Hey! I’ve spent half my life in California.” (See This Or This)

Now I can say, “Hey! I’ve spent most of my life in Dangerous Desolate Places.” (Middle East &  East Texas) That worm did turn some. (Go Here or There)

As a Native Texan, I am supposed to always hate California and yes, Yes to all you Texans out there: I know this. I get it. Put the rope down.

Yet I more love than hate California.

In California I learned to appreciate music, art, science, literature, hippies, beaches and blondes. My first kiss was not in California, but I didn’t miss that milestone by much–In California.

In Texas I learned to appreciate drankin’ whiskey and beer , smokin’ dope, playin’ football, chasin’ cheerleaders, and Raisin’ Hell.

Arriving home to Texas late 1968 folks made fun of my ‘California Accent’ if there even is such a thing. (There were no Valley Girls in the Sixties as far as I know). My ‘accent’ was ‘just the way normal people talked’ as far as I was concerned. Texans sounded funny to me (Blasphemy!)

My Attitude Adjustment didn’t take long to take.

In California I was a Little League Baseball Star. In Texas no one gave two shits about baseball. I had to learn football. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but I had all those baseball skills which were not worth a cup of spit in Texas.

I love Texas and don’t get me wrong. But once in a while, when I see a photo or a news bit showing San Francisco, or San Diego, or a beach, or a blonde… I hear this guy singing:

Sometimes I even hear this blonde singing:

And I tear up. (Just a little bit) but then I throw on some Bob Wills and Remember Who I am.

Bob Wills

And thus remembering, I go out and buy a case of Lone Star Long Necks and listen to this guy:

And I Thank The Spirit of Sam Houston I Am A Texan.