There Goes The YOKE ! !

Does this means the honeymoon is over? Dammit, MOM!!!! It's happening again!!!!!

Facebook | (Lil) Green Patch | Plant more green trees!

Facebook | (Lil) Green Patch | Plant more green trees!

The Good Old Days...from peteej's New Blog Brain disTrust

Delores Telescope Live! - - A Blast From My Shady Past!

Once upon a time, nance ran sound for a great and infamous Tampa Bay band...


Delores Telescope - the mad hatters of 1980's Power Trio w/ a most eclectic repertoire of originals and covers, ranging from Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground's "Sweet Jane", The Temptations "Papa Was a Rolling Stone", "THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME BE MYSELF AGAIN" By SLY AND THE FAMILY STONE, to "Whahoo" (Words & Music by Cliff Friend), "Kentucky Rain" Sung by Elvis, Glen Campbell's "Witchita Lineman", "Georgia On My Mind" Ray Charles, and many more creatively interpretative coves that were a good time!


I have to put the lyrics up for this crazy little ditty here for you to understand just what it was that made this band so special...

Wahoo
(Words & Music by Cliff Friend)

Way out west where men are men and women are very sweet,
That's where I wanna be...
That's where I'm gonna be.
Way out west just once again where happiness is complete,
There's just one thing I miss...
And it is this:

OH! gimme a horse, a great big horse, and gimme a buckaroo
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
OH! gimme a ranch, a big pair of pants, and gimme a stetson too,
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Give me the wide o-pen spaces...
For I'm just like a prairie flower,
Growing wilder by the hour.
OH! gimme a moon, a prairie moon, and gimme a gal what's true,
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

OH! I never could sing a high class thing, good music I never knew,
But I can Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
OH! I never could dance, 'cause when I dance I ruin the lady's shoe,
But I can Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
It's just a gift from the prairie...
You shout it when a bad man jigs,
And it's very good for calling pigs.
I never could speak a word of Greek, I never could poop-poop-a-do,
But I can Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

OH! you open your mouth two feet wide, and take a big breath or two,
And then you Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
OH! you wiggle your toes and grit your teeth
Like Dangerous Dan McGrew
And then you Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Be careful not to sing soprano;
And never Hi-de-hi-de-ho,
'Cause that don't go out in Idaho.
OH! buckle your belt and fix your hat,
And spit her out (noise) ka-chew!
And then you Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

Oh, what did Miss Cleopatra say to Antony when they met?
She hollered Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Oh, what did that roaming Romeo yell to Miss Juliet?
He hollered Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
It started way back in Eden
And Eve was the cause, and it's no fib,
She wahooed Adam for a rib.
Oh, what did Miss Pocahontas yell the minute she saw John Smith?
She hollered Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

Oh, gimme the plains, the western plains, and a bottle of apple jack
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Oh gimme a saloon, an old spittoon, and a package of chaw tobacc
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Give me a gal from dear old Dallas,
And play a Texas Tommy dance
And I'll cut loose with a wild romance;
Oh, gimme a gat, a cowboy hat, a handkerchief red and blue,
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

Oh, gimme the plains, a pair of reins, and my boots and saddle too,
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Oh, lemme get at...a lariat, as a steer comes into view,
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Give me the wide open spaces,
Each time I see a sawdust bar,
I wanna be away out thar...
Oh, show me the pal who'll steal my gal, and hand me my .32
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

RG

Dog and Bunny Show Episode 2 "Fetch"

Dog and Bunny Show

Highway to hell...a parody?

The Empire Strikes Barack II

When an Angel Sings - Tears of Joy

Where Joe?

April's Fool...

Gracias, luis royo.

allotabit genius

Some very cute, ]yes pangent, I said very[ quite gay man told me that I was 'allotabit genius'... so I am taking a pole, I mean poll:

If you think that my gay pal is correct: then list 3 or more reasons why you agree.

If you think he is just some stupid, drunk fag, then list three or more reasons why you disagree.

If you have no opinion:

FUCK OFF! YOU NON-THINKING MOTHER FUCKERS!

AND FOR THOSE OF YOU WONDERING... YES THIS IS A CHEAP SHOT AT SOME COMPLIMENTS... SO GO WILD.

Well, there it is. By the way, the same dude introduced me to hi friends by saying: "This is nanc, my new favorite person in the universe."

So, if you ar going to bother, you can use that as a baseline for any stokingly positive comments... negative comments will be answered according to levels of creativity; if they suck I won't bother.

BTW: This is merely a cheap social experiment to try to get some love or hate.

Have a happy day Bitches!
xx nanc

I love Jelly Fish Stories!

Since I am worn out from my latests rants and feeling OH, SO RELIEVED... here's one from another than my infamous self... have a good day!


If you don't laugh out loud after you read this you are in a coma! This is even funnier when you realize it's real! Next time you have a bad day at work think of this guy. Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs. Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne , Indiana , who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest. Needless to say, she won.

Hi Sue,

Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had a bad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so I thought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's not so bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first must bore you with a few technicalities of my job.

As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit to the office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool. So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrial water heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of the sea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down to the diver through a garden hose, which is Taped to the air hose. Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several times with no complaints.

What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, is take the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods my whole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi. Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch. So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse. Within a few seconds my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out from my back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened.

The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit. Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick to it However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate. When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding the jellyfish into the crack of my butt. I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. His instructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five other divers, were all laughing hysterically. Needless to say I aborted the dive.

I was instructed to make three agonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression. When I arrived at the surface, I was wearing nothing but my brass
helmet.

As I climbed out of the water, the medic, with tears of laughter running down his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on my butt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out, but I couldn't poop for two days because my butt was swollen shut.

So, next time you're having a bad day at work, think about how much worse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt. Now repeat to yourself, 'I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. Now whenever you have a bad day, ask yourself, is this a jellyfish bad day?

May you NEVER have a jellyfish bad day!!!!!

Bitches Please! - LA FIN

DISCLAIMER: All my post have been "PROPERLY FIKTIONALIZED"

[All this is all truth, sad to say.]

D-DBA snaps out of it and glances at her desk, then OMG!! She goes off, on a FUCK STORM, SOUTHERN STYLE, like I have yet to hear, 30 years later! No shit, even after Military Service. Then mom came into the scene... and she was magically sane again. DAMN, that FLOORED me!

FUCK IT ALL!

I WAS BLOWN AWAY BY THE SUGAR DROOLING FROM THAT WOMAN'S MOUTH! I knew...like cement is hard, that mom would never believe me! Why was I, really suspended for 10 goddamn days?

No way... 'rents never ask you that!

WTF... IS THAT?!

I did not happen to point out the mark on her desk, but that psycho bitch did...mom asked D-BDA, in her best French Accent: Why did you try to hit my daughter?

What followed was just simply sickening...I think I have well made my case for the Bitches Please, point!

WORD to the WISE: I was recently, less than one month ago, told by a 19 y o UF Student, that to THIS VERY DAY, in Public Schools in FL, that parents must ASK FOR and SIGN a "don't paddle my kid affidavit" and that her mom always did sign one for her. For your wandering minds, I have a few more. Not nearly all, but you'll just have to wonder until I need to 'bitchabout' some other assholian mother fuckers... until then: listen to your fucking kids, this is serious shit folks! WORD.

* A private yacht called: Shango, Porta-la-Cruz, Venezuela. [No, the Mentally Maniacal Captain was a Texan NOT a Venezuelan.] A fishing yacht called: Mi Pasha. Yup, same dude, I WILL HAVE to combine this could be many bullets alone...

* Nautical Structures, Inc. [Yup, again, employer, CEO w/ WIFE in MARKETING; Largo, FL. - What gives?]

* Bars??? I wonder....

Well, have you had enough yet?

Just think there should not be minors allowed around almost all of these locations...
at least as an employee right?

Well, that is the catch.

I know, I know: "Anyone who goes to Disney, to be a kid again." Ha!

"What do YOU call a child or an adolescent?"

BITCHES PLEASE!!!!!

After all, many others have written far more and much better than I on this topic:

Jean Baudrilliad, The Disneyfication of America; Roland Barthes, Mythologies; Allen Ginsberg, Selected Poems 1947-1995;

and just for luck one more: Philip Whalen, Enough Said.

[HINT: Recommended reading for any of you who are still skeptics. Jules Verne did not make lists b/c he was bored... nor do I, BITCHES PLEASE!]
La Fin
Ciao
no-givvey-shitty-nanc

Notes: [1] spiracle
n. Zoology. A respiratory aperture, especially:
1. a. any of several tracheal openings in the exoskeleton of an insect or a spider
b. A small respiratory opening behind the eye of certain fishes, such as sharks, rays, and skates.
c. The blowhole of a cetacean.
2. An aperture or opening through which air is admitted and expelled... like my ass?

[Middle English, from Latin spīrāculum, from spīrāre, to breathe.]

spiracular spi·rac'u·lar (spī-răk'yə-lər, spĭ-) adj.
http://www.answers.com/topic/spiracle

BITCHES PLEASE! PART DEUX

Also a TRUE STORY
[DISCLAIMER: everything in this blogs has been "PROPERLY FIKTIONALIZED!"!!]

I know: too much truth already BITCHES!Talk about BITCHES PLEASE!!!!

* Maderia Beach Middle School... in 1977, less than one short decade following Woodstock and three tiny fiscal leaps following Viet Nam, oh boy! Not, arrggh, gonnago there....

This was a simple case of an adult, brown woman, The "Dean of Girls" and an 11 year old girl, who just moved to FL. from the north... The True North: Canada; whose dad had died a couple of years earlier. No biggie huh? This tomboy is being beat up everyday on the bus, WHY? Because-she just moved to the South and happens to wear very stylish, green rimmed glassesand has an overbite; okay, buck-teeth, there are you happy now? [This girl was mod! way beyond her years, only she did not know it for a long, long time...go figure.] See, this particularly unique and "gifted child" who really wished, over and over every day, that she were completely invisible. [yeah, yeah - - she was a: French-Canadian-Iroquois-Native-American BUT, you couldn't tell by looking at her. HA!] So, b/c she is getting beat up daily, she is allowed by mom to ride her powder blue, boys style, 10-speed bike, 7 miles to and from school everyday. She loves it! FREEDOM! SPEED! FRESH AIR!GREAT WORK OUT! [Uh, yeah, she has to hide & lock her bike up far from the school and pay a Nam Vet protection money for the walk over to her 1st class, but if she gets there early, she saves money and can hide easier... Every Fucking Day... BITCHES PLEASE!!!] After all, it's only 5 of the 7 days of each week, right? Can you say: "WEEK-END WARRIOR AND DROP-OUT - - IN TRAINING?." Thought so; parents can be so fucking lame when they are reasonable...they think that ALL adults are reasonable or at least, reasonably sane! What did I hear your inner voice just say? That's what I thought: BITCHES PLEASE!!!![Rare moment here: the professional contradictarian is giving some [many] of you credit for knowing what getting your asses kicked daily feels like.
HENCE my Magically Prophetic question in the profile: "Do YOU think MEAN people SUCK?" Now for the "Authority of The DEAN" part of the story: [HEY PHRED: LOOK... WHAT CAME UP WHEN I CHECKED TO SEE OF CANUCK HAD 1 OR 2 N'S IN IT:Harry Connick, Jr.(Jazz Musician / Actor / Jazz Singer) FUNNY, EH?] SO, The stupid Canuck, FROG faced, buck-tooth, payola spending little Hippie-Freak [Oh yeah! And beacoup more than that! Middle School was the 2nd to worst part of her education! High School got worse...OY!...YO!] was 3 minutes late to "1st period" [I know right?] one morning and then 2 minutes late the next; SHIT!!! Call the Truancy Patrol! Juvi-delinquent caught red handed! Get this, my teacher didn't want to send me to the Dean's office, but it was the rules... no, not the ex-Army Capt., it was a new-bee civilian Fucking BITCH! - - So off she goes, "MARCH YOUNG LADY!" GOD DAMNED I HATED HEARING THAT SHIT! BITCHES PLEASE! Dean Barn-Door-Ass, no lie, it was a huge ole COFFEE TABLE looking mother fuckin' ass, and she was all of 4'3" weighing in at 150lbs... no fucking wonder she hated "my chicken legged, wise-crackin' smart-talking little attitude" [official quote Dean Barn-Door-Ass October, 1977; true story here folks.] But, again, the naive little girl, was trusting to a fault, [really really] in the overwhelming evidence of all the goodness that surely existed in human nature, look at dad & mom. DUMB ASS KID! OK, okay damn, I asked if you WANNNA BITCH DIDN'T I??? Dean-BDA, wanted to give me 3 "Whacks" with a paddle, that was 2.5 ft. long and had evenly spaced holes drilled in the damn thing from stem to hockey taped handle. The Girl asked Very Calmly, You are joking right? Well that turned this encounter into another one of those, what do you call it, again? oh, you, that's it: ADULT GOES POSTAL, way before it had a name or an occupation attached; Bitches Please! 11 years old and trying to reason with a middle aged African American Woman, who did not know that at the time, whose parents were probably at least indentured servants,and SHE is freaking right the fuck out,with a 2x4 in her hands DEMANDING that:

"I BEND OVER AND TAKE MY MEDICINE!"
[official quote #2 DeanBarn-Door-Ass October, 1977; true story here folks.]
What is a poor girl to do?
Think, think, what would dad do?
BAMBOO.

This is the reason I love the stuff; Bamboo that is. I lean over her desk, with my head turned and watch her wind up; when she does, I turned and snatched that fucking plank out of her hand, while screaming like a WILD FUCKING BANSHEE BEING CHASED BY BEES AND THE CALVARY, and cracked that fucking paddle in half on the side of her desk... which she was still writing on and looking at, long after I left dear old "Mad. Beach" Middle School. Her reaction was, well... simply priceless, [I never really remembered that bit until now actually] She had fear, shock, awe, for just a second, then it turned from boiling water to steam under pressure... Ka-POWEEE! Off she went: with renewed, CRAZY PSYCHO ANGERas this 11 yo kid, is telling her STERNLY BUT CALMLY, while using her paddle to point at the horn; "BITCH PLEASE! I said NOW Dammit!"[NO Way DUDE! NOT REALLY, BUT BOY THAT WOULD HAVE CAPPED IT, HUH? OR ME, HMMM? I was Fucking Shaking! Pissed but mostly fucking scared!]Three times, same tone, I repeated:

"You WILL PLEASE pick the fucking phone up and call my mom like I asked [axed] you earlier!"

psss! go to part trois...

Wanna Bitch? Bitches Please! Bitchabout!

Okay, here's the deal. There are so many BITCHES abound that I can only describe a few.

Hey you! BITCHES PLEASE!- - - Hear me out, because these few variations I WILL describe with rabid overzealousness... It WILL be fun, I promise, even though as one of my fans pointed out, "I don't give a BUNNY'S WORTH OF SHIT!"
[Oooh burned you gps girly man!]

So, do I Wanna Bitch?
Oh Hell YES!
Where to start...

Hmmm, well this one is easy: My personal fav, Bitches Please! - is what I wish I could say, out loud any fucking time or place I saw fit and to every single mother fucker that I have ever heard go OFF, like an atom bomb [yeah boy! old school!] in an excessively foul and inappropriate manner... and especially if the FUCK-N-JIVE BLAST occurs in the SHARED "work space" or is aimed at or near any GODDAMNED KIDS!! GET A GRIP,PEOPLE!!! You may be thinking: "Geez, nance, how bad can it be? How many times and different places could you have possibly witnessed such abhorrent and infantile behavior? What are these "work spaces" and who are these kids that you speak of? Spaces lends itself to a confined area, after all." [Yes, and, when bombs go off in a pipe... what happens? Can you say "SHRAPNEL & SCARS or SEVERED LIMBS AND BRAIN DAMAGE- - - too??] To these clever inquiries, I would say: "Why yes, if you are a sheltered human, say in a cave in the Himalayas or a Zen Master operating in Japan or out of a strip mall in Los Angeles or New York even, I would likely agree with you; it could happen: THAT EVERY BITCH AROUND WAS CALM AND SANELY IN CONTROL OF THEIR WITS.
[NOT! NEVER! OUT OF THE FUCKING QUESTION FOR THIS LIFETIME!]
NOT in this nangent's BITCHABOUT!!!

[Here goes a true nangent style contradictionarian label making banshee gone rabid in your lap or living room!]

See, I am a, French-Canadian-Iroquois-Native-American and if anyone and I mean nearly any other human being beside my husband or Jack Kerouac has a handle like ours, I would be impressed. Frankly, and in all probability, I would most likely not give a rat's arse, if anyone one did understand this "accident of birth" as it is called in Sociology. Stay with me, I'm just starting to roll.... My reasoning is thus: [NTS- hate the word "thus"] It is a major huge dichotomy to read some bitch's blog about such a conundrum in view of the EXPERIENCE I HAVE wearing and handling this particular label for 41'ish years in North America, the DEEP SOUTH, which is by far, it's own damn country and beyond; two very fucking different perspectives. I would bet this life that I REALLY, REALLY LOVE, [yeah dude, I said really, really, BFD] that none of you bitches any where in the world could describe to me, what it has been and still is like walking in these galoshes.

Enough said. I blew a valve and feel much better! Whew!

Now then, to answer those clever questions of two paragraphs gone bye bye.

Where, When, Why? BITCHES PLEASE!

The US NAVY, I know too easy.
[NEED I SAY: Just imagine, there is no end to the material here alone.]
Boot camp: No! Not just Military, you have to think in VASTLY Spiracular[1] terms. [Yes, it is too a word, check the foot notes, damn bitches! READING ...Remember? YES! This BITCHES PLEASE Behavior is JUST LIKE BREATHING for these cretins!]
For people who are employed in any sort of regimented group behavior control... and there are many, police, jail guards, riot squads, DEA, CIA, NIS, DMV, SS, [I meant social security but you can make that whatever you like] SPECIAL FORCES, hmmm, POLITICIANS, PE coaches, teachers, corporate trainers, hollywood film makers, reality TV show hosts, [yup, the word is used lightly] Soap Operas, Game Show Hosts, psychiatric hospitals, HELL... HOSPITALS even, psychologists, think people, one at a time or group therapy, is there truly a difference? Oh, send your kid off to a juvi - boot camp will you? Why not RAPE THEM YOURSELF FOR FUCKS SAKE! I know BITCH PLEASE! This bullet is too long... but this list could go on FOREVER!

NOTE: The KEY word here is: INSTITUTIONS. A few synonyms for you foreign language majors: Corporations; Neighborhood ASSociations; Cities, Towns Villages, States, Nations...

IN SHORT FORM: anything than can become part of a NEW WORLD ORDER...
just to keep it simple stupid [k.i.s.s.?]

The offices of a CEO in Largo, FL [go figure] whose business it is to manage [several hundred folks, we're not talking small bunny pellets at all...] Deed Restricted Neighborhoods... a fucking bunches of them.
TRUE STORY:

The president of the company cussed his ass off until he [seriously here...] turned beet red and still wasn't out of steam so he followed the already nervous and nauseated accountant that he was pissed at into his office; [why pissed? GEE BOSS, too many champagne and caviar lunches dude, you are mother fuckin' broke and your wife, the VP can't save a receipt to wipe her ass with, so I have a $17K slush fund just for her ; yes sir, by her very own order as VP (and your wife, dick head) All for telling him the state of his current financial affairs, just as ordered. So, here I am the office manager, for a whole 3 months; 5 months pregnant... so what does the BIG BULLY do? Yup! He hit this little guy so hard that he landed in a corner, with his head bleeding and a smashed CRT monitor in his lap, shaking and crying [not really crying, but very fucking hurt] when I waltz in and tell the Pres. to BACK OFF AND CUT THE SHIT!He did. It took an adult's "MOST SERIOUS and LOUD Voice of Reason" but he marched into his office, 10 ft away and slammed the door... VF-Loudly!

psss! go to part deux :D

What is a nangent?

Hello.

I am here to introduce a new concept to those of you who do not know me.

I am nanc.

I have absolutely no credentials what so ever. With that said, if you are offended, confused or irritated by anything I post here on my blog, well I have two thing to say to you: first, you do not 'blong' here... and secondly, I make no apologies for my opinions, ideas, and rants...real or imagined, hence the title, nangent.

A nangent is something you either get or you don't; you like/love or hate/despise; it has no expectations; it could care less what any other sentient being thinks, feels or has to say regarding the contents of this space. [But, you may leave comments anyway.]

A nangent is a part of me and me alone; whether or not there is content here that interest another living soul is of no consequence, in fact, it is a mirror of my lives; usually unpopular and rarely followed. These are qualities to me. There is no other way to exists where the flavors and perceptions are so random as this material plane. There is no right or wrong way to read this blog; just don't take it personally. My nangents, like my life, are aware, conscious, intentional, serendipitous, self-generated, random and normally witness oriented.

These nuggets of nanc, or rather, nangents, are only here to be looked at and perhaps thought about, without: judgment, preconceptions, authority, ethnicity, orientation, nationalism or any other categorization you may be able to list or specify.

I have no point to make, and if this seems contradictory in any particular post, so be it; it is quite likely that I will contradict myself, perhaps even regularly; this is a nangents prerogative, and that is a rule in my world, especially since there are no dogs in this blog to fight for, no good guys or bad guys, just guys. I will, however, make an effort to avoid duality in general. If I succeed, that will be very cool. If not, well, I contradict myself, BFD, right? Yes, that is right.

I may make bizarre comparisons, atonal melodies of words that fall from space and into my blog; unsymmetrical statements that seem black or white, but they are not and if there is intention in my words, which, as I stated previously, then the intention will always be multicolored and passed through a prism that is my own mind's eye.

No one should give a shit about what a nangent is or isn't. Despite my effort to quantify what is not a nangent, this is and is not a nangent, so there. Enough said.

Oh, I almost forgot, if you are not a fan of Kerouac, you will not want to rss feed this blog; the reason being that, point of perception, perspective and stream of consciousness writing tends to be my strong suit... as if you couldn't see that already.

Enjoy!
nanc