Here, hold my beer….
Snow is not going to end, not in my kingdom, until either Mossad assassinates the Winter Queen (whose breath would freeze your blood), or that volcano in Ethiopia splits Africa into two continents. Then we’re all doomed and we’d better be off the planet by that time.
But I digress….
That recently featured (today) retired person had some truly fantastical stories to tell, but I think we can all do better than that, individually and as a group. So you have a choice: either go for the Round Robin thing, if you like, or just make up the biggest pile of absolutely ridiculous nonsense imaginable. Both are acceptable, as long as they are made up out of moonbeam whiskey and frozen hot dogs, two of Mother Nature’s finest food stuffs!
Have a good time. I have to follow the SEALS off to Kyrzakistan, that exotic country somewhere in Central Asia, concocted out of John sKerry’s numb little brain.o
Category: "Teh Stoopid"
Starting to remodel the kitchen today, so gotta jet soon.
But, before I leave, I’ll leave you all (or ya’all as the case may be) with this bit of a gem I recently found about TriCare back from March 2017.
A bit of tongue in cheek (or wherever you stick your tongue….I don’t judge), but a fun read.
Not a war story, but still could leave some scars. (smile)
https://article107news.com/tricare-agrees-to-pay-for-penis-enlargements/
Oh dear god….
Upon his retirement from the Army, Sergeant Schlonger wrote a long but warmly received autobiography titled My Life In The Trenches: Warfare Measured In Inches.
He wrote excitedly and proudly of always shouting the 82nd’s famous motto ALL THE WAY! during tactical insertions.
Glad I put down the hot beverage before I read that. You know, you could choke on something….
Said SGT Shlonger…
You are SO BAAAAD, Grunt!!!
“That’s what she said!”
(….as Skyjumper runs and ducks for cover fleeing Ex-PH2’s heavy handled 12″….ah…
skillet) (grin)
Back to remodeling…my work is done here. 😉
There I wuz at 30,000 feet…
…badly hungover, flying inverted, and smoking a Lucky Strike when all of a sudden…
…they came out of nowhere, hundreds of them, all spitting hellfire and bullets, and I was down to my last Lucky Strike, when…
…double malfunction, burning in with nothing but a silkworm and a sewing needle…
…so I donned my goggles and opened the overwing hatch…
….I knew I had to be FIRST to spin away on the wheel….
…and then I realized that not only had I forgotten to pack a lunch, but also, I had not properly fastened the front harness buckle on my chute… and I was heading directly toward a herd of stampeding water buffalo.
…turned out they were all females in heat so,giggity giggity..
Do you mean like this: I knew I was in trouble when the Chaplain and First Sergeant walked in. I was changing the oil on the Wing Commander’s staff car; only the best mechanics and operators are allowed to touch the Wing Commander’s car. The First Sergeant said I was needed for a mission and it was probably one way. Morlocks were attacking and instead of coming out of caves and tunnels; they were parachuting through the hole in the ozone. We were to fly to the Antarctic and engage them. All of the planes on the base were off on other missions, so we were taking the B-25 that was on static display. Only the President and the NSA knew the B-25 had additional fuel tanks with new engines and zero time propellers for such a mission. It was only going to be me and the pilot. Since we were going to the south pole there was no need for a navigator; and, since there was only one M-2 on the base only one operator was needed. All vehicle mechanics are trained on the M-2 in case they needed us, and with Morlocks attacking, they needed me. They could only find one pilot with B-25 experience, he was at the local VFW post, so he was drafted back on active duty. While the pilot was being sobered up from his latest whiskey binge, I went to the Services Squadron to draw rations of hot dogs we would cook on the engine exhaust. We left on Friday afternoon so we could be back Sunday night so no one would know we were gone. When we encountered the enemy, I fought like a madman at a boarding house trying to get the last chicken drum stick. They shot a hole in the plexi-glass which I turned to an advantage. I noticed a box of grenades at the armory which I took when no one was looking. The pilot flew above the parachuting Morlocks and I dropped hand grenades on them through the hole. Of course, this can’t be on my 214… Read more »
Excellent! What award did you get for that one?
30 days confinement for stealing hand grenades.
54 and rain in Mobile AL today, just sayin’…
HEY, you don’t have to shovel rain off the sidewalk OR scrape it off your windshield! 😀
Yes, you do, if it freezes.
No shit, there I was, knee deep in expanded brass and hand grenade pins…..
When I heard my squad leader shout “fix bayonets!”
and the Maintenance Officer cried out, “You don’t fix nothing without a work order!”
So, I yelled out in pain, who’s got the damned -10.
(Reaches into overstuffed mailbag)
“Here ya go, fresh from Army pubs. Also three Christmas cards for you.”
“Expanded”? Or “expEnded”?
Yes, it’s the Grammar Nazi spoilsport in me.
E x p e n d e d….. I gots a da fat fingers.
And the worst part of impending doom was when I realized that I was standing in front of the entrance to the doughnut shop and Round Ranger was advancing at a dead run.
This is a true story so you better listen up. No shit, there we were. I was still only in can on BIOP. Every time I thought I’m gonna wake up back in the desert. When I was home after my first tour, it was worse. I’d wake up and there’d be nothing. I hardly said a word to my wife, until I said “yes” to a stack of flapjacks. When I was here, I wanted to be there; when I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle. I was there for a week waiting for a mission… getting softer, not ready for insertion. Every minute I stayed in that room, I got weaker, and every minute Charlie squatted in the bushes, he got his bowels cleansed out more. Death has a smell you see, it smelled a lot like Charlie’s bung hole after visting the all you can eat burrito buffet bar at Hot Chile’s Tex-Mex Beer & Buffet Roadhouse. After I was awarded my fourth CAB and third CAR they went ahead and gave me a second secret Congressional Medal of Honor. They were going to have Obama give it to me but I said “hell no” I want a real president to give it to me not some nazi. So they said how about Ford he isn’t busy? Ford at least served in the Navy even if he never completed Seal training so I agreed. When I retired in 2011 as an PO-6 they said they would hold my checks and issue a back dated DD214 that showed a discharge at E1 after 8 months of service. This would provide me cover from Al Qida suicide bombers targeting me and my family. They then housed me in the safest place they could find. First in the County Jail for several months then in a Federal Pen until they could get better housing. They had to create a fake criminal history on me to get me in there. So if you see anything that says that it is just a cover story.… Read more »
Folks, I think we have a winner. I may have to steal some of this for future use, when my own stories of sekkrit squirrel just ain’t fancy enough.