Willie on Politics

I got along without you before I met you and I’ll get along without you a long time after you’re gone.

Willie Nelson


elizabeth cady stanton 2







Shirley…You Jest

Robinson and Shirley Temple in Rebecca of Sunn...
Robinson and Shirley Temple in Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Famous people named Shirley…I asked myself today in midstream hyper chaotic/power driven madness mode…while crossing a busy intersection and not looking both ways:

Well, last count, 85!

Shirley Temple, Shirley Jones, Shirley Maclaine and of most notable useless but often useful in a cowboy setting: Shirley Collie!

Who is Shirley Collie?   How did she get to be so damn famous that she is on infamous lack poetic license blog?

Shirley…I may look like a collie but at least people in small mid western towns are aware of my greatness, Collie, is an internationally not known yodeler and second wife to Willie Nelson.

What is it important for this blog to bring to attention of it’s viewers the importance of being Shirley?  Well, as the not named Shirley but close enough…Jimmy Buffet says:

‘We spent ninety trillion dollars to get a look at mars…I see a universe of laughter ringing out among the stars!’

Why do we pursue the obviously oblique?  How and why are we possessed at a country to put money into counting horny toads in a Louisiana everglade?

Because we have nothing better do to than sit around absorbing useless information that in the end leads us to this end:

Who really gives a shit?

Rumack: You’d better tell the Captain we’ve got to land as soon as we can. This woman has to be gotten to a hospital.

Elaine Dickinson: A hospital? What is it?

Rumack: It’s a big building with patients, but that’s not important right now.

Rumack: Can you fly this plane, and land it?

Airplane! The movie
Airplane! The movie (Photo credit: ralphhogaboom)

Ted Striker: Surely you can’t be serious.

Rumack: I am serious… and don’t call me Shirley!

Rumack: What was it we had for dinner tonight?

Elaine Dickinson: Well, we had a choice of steak or fish.

Rumack: Yes, yes, I remember, I had lasagna.

Rumack: I won’t deceive you, Mr. Striker. We’re running out of time.

Ted Striker: Surely there must be something you can do.

Rumack: I’m doing everything I can…and stop calling me Shirley!

Flavor Me Ambien Grace

ignorance (Photo credit: openDemocracy)

I love fan mail. I adore the absence of malice that my readers seem to have. And, most importantly, weirdness has not been a total loss…it shows up in all shapes, sizes and large vats of contempt of conformity.

FED - FEMA | Federal Emergency Management Agency
FED – FEMA | Federal Emergency Management Agency (Photo credit: Inventorchris)

..region rugs are best positioned on the outside on the house where it can serve greater…

PlumSmart and an enema twice a week…this combination will be an excellent impacted feces remedy.
This helps complete with digestion and gets
under way your bowels working correctly. A good bowel movement everyday leads to higher ground…

Whatever happened to Ambien Grace or was her name Annie? I loved her stories…has she learned that defrauding the IRS is only something OJ and Willie Nelson would do?

Not a feedback goes by that doesn’t stir the soul and/or colon cavity. Many thanks for the bowel Buddha movement. Throw rugs are preferred in my house…they hit with more force when angry.
Annie C., the not so graceful FEMA corps volunteer? I hear she is in Tempe, Arizona claiming to have volunteered to the masses and paying art galleries to prop up her photos of dead trees. Oh well, the IRS is screwing ’round, FEMA can’t get their sex stories straight and why not throw in an Oxy addict for good measure? Conformity does make the world go ’round!

Favorite quote from adoring fan:

Ignorance is not bliss
Ignorance is not bliss (Photo credit: robert 7)

“The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.” by Jean Paul.

An Angel Flying too Close to the Ground

Five years ago…to the date, I had purposefully forgotten my other self. The asshole. The epitome of womanizer. The image of decadent lesbian lust erased from my mind; I bent down on one knee. Practice makes perfect, so I’ve heard.
I hit the remote and played, a sultry Nora Jones tune, Turn Me On. Over and over and over I got up knelt, got up and knelt again. Within a matter of minutes I knew what six years in the waiting had meant. Finally, someone had taken my sandpaper attitude, rubbed it down. A lisp in the night made my distortions of happiness seem realistic. An ‘angel flying too close to the ground‘ managed to see that not all assholes are complete and not all complete assholes should go it alone. I suppose two wrongs do make a right.
An hour later, as the old Volvo banged and thumped it’s way into a two car garage that my partner had insisted on making a three car garage, I had misplaced my cue. Forgotten my lines. And, led myself to belief I could be a better person as long as I had my lover by my side.
We managed to make love to Nora about three times over. Thank Christ for repeat.
The only true vow exchanged? No for better or for worse for that should be a given.
Traditionally marriage and I never clicked. Traditionally our marriage is not.
See this is what I don’t get about anti-gay rights and their sign slinging hypocritical sayings, It’s Adam and Eve…Not Adam and Steve. Marriage is between a Man and a Woman.
Love is love is love. It runs through fidelity, infidelity, character bias, sickness, slander and comes full circle back to trying to just get it right.
Tonight, after a ‘Date Night‘ I held my spouse’s hand in a vacant parking lot. Pulled her close and danced to the music of the stars.
A horrible sight for the movie goers, a wonderful sensation, as I sang, save the last dance for me!’
Traditional Marriage: an intimate or close union
The union of painting and poetry. The collaboration of Ying and Yang.

'don't forget who's taken you home & who will again, and again, and again.'
‘don’t forget who’s taken you home & who will again, and again, and again.’

Like a flower waiting to bloom
Like a light bulb in a dark room
I’m just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on

Like the desert waiting for the rain
Like a school kid waiting for the spring
I’m just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on

My poor heart it’s been so dark
Since you’ve been gone
After all you’re the one who turns me off
You’re the only one who can turn me back on

My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune
My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes
I’m just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on
Turn me on