Monday, November 30, 2009
What is an "In case of my death" letter you ask? Put simply, it is your last chance to say goodbye to your family, if you are unable to return from war. Generally, the letter is given to a fellow military member with instructions to mail, or hand deliver the letter, should anything happen to you. Although not everyone has a letter like this, many military members do. It is the hardest thing to write because nothing you say can take away the hurt that is caused by your death.
I am currently in the process of preparing to go overseas for a year. Although I will see my family a couple times, I will not officially be home until Christmas time of 2010. The following is my "In case of my death" letter to my family.
Note: Due to the sensitive nature of this subject, I will not be allowing negative comments on this post. Call it censorship, call it communism, I don't care. This is my letter, to my family, and I will not let it turn into someone's political grandstanding. Also, the goal of this is not to make anyone feel sorry for me. I have made my choices, and I have been blessed with a wife who has chosen to stick with me through whatever comes our way. We(the military members) don't want your pity, or your sympathy. All we ask is that you don't pass judgment on us because you disagree with what we do.
Without further ado.....
If you are reading this, then my time has come. As much as I wish I could, I will not be returning home this time. I know that I told you I would return home to you as soon as I could, but unfortunately, I won't be able to. I know that you are going to be angry. It is to be expected, and I wouldn't want anything else. However, please don't let that anger consume you. You are an amazing person, and when that anger passes, there are a few things I want you to know.
I could not have asked for a better wife. You have been my rock through some of the hardest times of my life. You have been my confidant, my soul mate, and my best friend. You have given me two beautiful boys, and have given me the happiest 4+ years of my life. There has not been a day that has gone by that I haven't missed your touch. Throughout everything we have been through, there was always one person I could lean on, You. You are, without a doubt, the one thing that has kept me going when I felt like quitting.
As the days come and go, the reality of my passing is going to sink in. All I ask is that you remember to stay strong for the boys. They need you now more then ever. As they grow up into young men, I know you will raise them to be respectful, humble, and responsible. I only ask that you never let them forget me. When they become old enough, and start asking the Why's, I want you to tell them that Daddy believed in what he was doing. I know this answer will not bring closure, nor relief from the pain, but it is all I can offer up.
Finally, I know there will come a time when you may meet someone else. As hard as this is for me to write, I want you to move on. Obviously not right away, but I believe that you will know when the time is right. I don't ever want you to feel like you have something to prove to me. You have devoted 4 years to me and the boys, and if I am unable to return and spend the rest of my life with you, I want you to be with someone who can. I know that moving on is the furthest thing from your mind right now, but know that when the time comes, I expect you to do what your heart tells you to.
Although I am devastated that I can not return home to you and the boys, I hope you know that I die a happy man. These 4 years that we have spent together are more then most people get. The love that we shared was a picture of perfection. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be lucky enough to experience the sheer tranquility and happiness that you brought into my life.
I will see you again and my love for you will not falter,
I will always love you
When I started this blog, I thought it's be fun to get some readers, interract, and generally have a good time with it. I started plugging it on the Amazon forum's, and I'll admit, I got out of hand. I was commenting on things that had nothing at all to do with it. After some poking and prodding, I realized the errors of my way and stopped posting on each thread I saw. Instead, I started signing my posts(that were relevant to the topic) as Bunny and then a link to the site. Even this wasn't fucking good enough for the ass holes on the forum.(Note: I am not calling everyone on the forum an ass hole. I am mainly referring to Vicky and Dan)
Due to what I'm assuming was someone being a little pussy bitch and complaining to Amazon, I received an email from them saying that I was spamming the forum. I won't bore you with the semantics of the email, but it basically said stop, or your posting privileges will be taken away. I responded as such:
1) I admit I was spamming before, I apologized and have stopped.
2) I only put the link to my blog in my signature block, and don't mention it any other way, except in appropriate threads. This is something employed by Bufo Calvin with his Author's Page and by another blogger for her page.
3) I created one thread about my blog(as did Red Adept for her book review blog.)
They responded as follows:
Signature blocks can't contain links. Only web addresses. And then those addresses can not be to an item for sale. Only to a fucking Author's Page, which LISTS the fucking books for sale by that person!
Although they only addressed one of my issues, they took it upon themselves to delete every single entry I had made. Including the thread I had started. However, Red Adept's thread is still up.
Now don't get me wrong, this is Amazon's site, they can edit the threads as they see fit. However, I am taking issue with the whiny fucking pussy asshole Dan T. Consider your bitch ass called out. Time to face the music you fucking crybaby.
1) You fucking blatantly lied in your review of my blog. When I responded with facts, you cried about me bashing women(because you're a bitch) and refused to admit that you were wrong.
2) You are a fucking bitch. You are offended by the fact that I asked women to show me their tits while drinking with friends. The fucking women that I asked thought it was hilarious, but your pansy ass finds it offensive. Then there is the fact that you got offended by me saying women "used to put out". My own wife thought that was funny but you're oversensitive douche bag self got offended by it. GET THE FUCK OVER YOURSELF!!!
3) Why do you feel the need to cry like a fucking girl everytime I post on the thread. If you don't like it, ignore it and move the fuck on with your pathetic excuse for a life. I understand that your parents hate you, and that you are looking for attention by picking fights with people that think differently then you. I get that. But you're picking a fight with the wrong fucking person.
From here on out, every person who tries to bitch about some trivial shit that I have done, is going to get called out. That's the beauty of this blog. I get to write whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.
So do it again. Narc to Amazon that I included a link to my blog in a post. Throw your stupid ass, "moderate conservative"(I'm calling bullshit on that) opinions in on a thread. Every fucking time you speak out against me, I will call you out. I will let every reader I have know how much of a pussy you are.
For anyone who reads this know that I have given Dan a chance to respond. He is afraid. He writes a review on my blog, and then when he gets called out, he fades into oblivion.
If you didn't like this entry, don't worry, not every one will be like this. However, I am tired of being told that I am different from any other blogger, simply because I (along with Fluffy) are willing to touch those subjects that aren't popular. If you like the blog, a review on Amazon wouldn't hurt. If you hate it, then stop reading, find something else, and move on.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Along the way, we see some Bagelfuls filled with Philadelphia Cream Cheese. Fluffy starts in on "Oh, Philadelphia fucking cream cheese. If it were New York cream cheese, it would have steroids in it."
Of course I reply with the standard, "If it were New York City cream cheese, it would blow your fucking mind. All Philly cream cheese knows how to do is lose the World Series!"
At this point, the ugly troll behind the counter decides to inject himself into our conversation. He starts by asking, "when was the last time Philly won a World Series?" After being presented with the all to obvious truth of one year ago, he says, "I mean BEFORE that." He then admits that Philly gave the Yankees a run for their money(which I've already conceeded). He then drops this nugget of ignorant garbage, "I still can't believe Poo-holes(that's the phonetic spelling courtesy of ESPN.com) won the NL MVP."
For those of you not interested in sports, Pujols dominated this year. Yes, Fluffy accuses him of doing steroids, but 1) there is no evidence of that and 2) he's just upset that he's so good. He deserved it and anyone who thinks differently should consider the fact that he's only the 6th person ever to be unanimously selected as the NL MVP.
See, this blog can be informative AND fun.
Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T
Thursday, November 26, 2009
You don't know who I am, but I've heard a lot about you. I know that, like me, you made the decision to volunteer your service to the United States. I know that, like me, you enlisted in the Air Force with dreams of serving your country and leading a fulfilling military career. And I know that, unlike me, you sacrificed something that most of us deem unimaginable: your life.
I never had the pleasure of meeting you before you left us. I was never a part of the stories I've heard about your adventures with B. Our paths never crossed before we both left active duty. Yet now, somehow, I feel as if we could've been friends all along.
I met your family for the first time last night, Eric. And although you'll never see it, rest assured knowing that their home has become an unequalable shrine to your memory. Your pictures are everywhere; your medals and accolades bring to life the walls on which they hang. But the thing I feel moved me the most was a small sign hanging above the couch in your living room, one that read, "if love could've saved you, you would've lived forever."
Today is Thanksgiving, and as I spend the day with Bruce and his family, I can't help but feel sorrow knowing that there is an empty seat at your family's table that you will never fill again. Across the country, as many go around the table naming things for which they are thankful: their families, their health, their good fortune...I'm thankful that people like you exist, Eric, people who have laid down their lives so that we may be here with the ones we love. Those who go after us will thank us for the sacrifices we have made, but none more important than yours.
In the end, as is written on the license plate on your truck, one which you've never seen before, "RIP EMB." You're dearly missed. Even by those who've never even met you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go pull myself together..
Sincerely and respectfully,
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
And what did these Navy fucking SEALs do to this suspect? Apparently, he received a bloody lip while he was in someone's custody. Frankly, all of this shit is alleged, and if it weren't for the fucking hippie, tree hugging, douche bag left wing suck-bags, then we wouldn't even be having this discussion. But we are. So know this, I will never be a SEAL. Frankly, I don't have what it takes. But these guys did. And they followed every single order given to them. Did this ass fucking douche-nuts get a bloody nose? Maybe. But did he organize the total desecration of 4 bodies? Yes. So was the bloody nose warranted? Honestly, this shouldn't be a fucking question. Should we destroy their careers over a possibility that they might have touched a terrorist while trying to fucking detain him? Fuck NO!!!
And if you disagree with me, fuck you, and stop hating America.
So today, I thought I would take a step back from my normal writings, and make this blog a little funnier. I received a criticism by Dan T. saying that my blog was not what he would call funny. So here goes. Enjoy.
A chicken and an egg are sitting at a bar. A drunk walks up to them and says, “So which one of you came first?” The chicken looks at the egg, back at the drunk and says, “Your mother.”
A man and a giraffe are at a bar drinking. The giraffe gets so drunk he passes out. Shortly thereafter, the man gets up to leave. The bartender says to him, “hey, you can’t leave that lyin there.” To which the man replies, “That’s not a lion stupid, it’s a giraffe.”
A ham sandwich walks into a bar, the bartender says, “sorry, but we don’t serve food here.”
What did one manbearpig say to the other manbearpig? GWOAN!!!!!(Most of you probably don’t get this, but for those of you that do, I hope you enjoyed the manbearpig name drop.)
Al Gore is out jogging one morning, notices a little boy on the corner with a box. Curious, he runs over to the child and says, "What's in the box, kid?" The little boy says, "Kittens, they're brand new kittens." Al Gore laughs and says, "What kind of kittens are they?" "Democrats," the child says. "Oh, that's cute," Al Gore says and he runs off. A couple of days later, Al Gore is running with his buddy Bill Clinton and he spies the same boy with his box just ahead. Al says to Bill, "You gotta check this out," and they both jog over to the boy with the box. Al says, "Look in the box Bill, isn't that cute? Look at those little kittens. Hey, kid, tell my friend Bill what kind of kittens they are." The boy replies, "They're Republicans.” "Whoa!" Al says, "I came by here the other day and you said they were Democrats. What's up?" "Well," the kid says, "Their eyes are open now."
A man limps into a bar with a cane and alligator. The bartender stops him and says "Hold on a second here - you can't bring that animal in here, they aren't allowed!" So the man says, "But my gator here does a really cool trick..." The bartender says "Well then, lets see!" So the man whips out his dick and shoves it in the gators mouth. He then takes his cane and starts bashing the gator in the head with it. A crowd gathers around and everyone is astonished when he pulls out his dick without a single scratch.He looks around at the crowd and says, "Does anyone else want to try?" An old lady raises her hand and says..."Sure, but don't hit me with that stick."
A koala walks into a bar one night, slams his paw down on the table, and orders a drink. When he's done, slam goes his paw again for more. This goes on for about half an hour, and just when he was going to do it again, the barkeep told him if he was looking for a good time, there was some one in the back room who could help him, the koala decides why not and goes into the back room. There he meets a prostitute who is waiting for him. That night he has the best sex he has ever had. After the prostitute turns to the koala and says, "How about my money," the koala looked confused and the prostitute brought out a dictionary and it said...PROSTITUTE: Has sex for money.So in response the koala turn to the definition for the koala and it says. KOALA: Eats bush and leaves.
I hope you enjoyed the jokes, and have a Happy Thanksgiving. Before I leave though, I would like to showcase the anonymous comments of what I am assuming is a fan of our writings. I am sure that no matter what I say, someone is going to try to say I wrote this in response to Vicky’s writings, but I did not. With that being said, it makes some accusations in the comments. By reposting this, I am in no way validating these accusations. I do not know if they are correct or not, so don’t try and bring this back on me. Also, it is very vulgar, so if you get offended, don’t read, and blah blah blah blah blah. Enjoy.
“Sounds like that Vicky bitch. God what a cunt she is. Fucking whining, lying, hypocritical hippie Frog skank...go back to France, Vicky where you can lounge around with the rest of those pansie asses over there.
By the way, Vicky, so nice to hear you call someone a woman hater and all other sorts of names when you ran a fucking escort ring...taking money from girls who have sex with strangers. And you have the audacity to say anything to a guy who called one girl a cunt? Whoops! Did your glass house just break with all that stone throwing?”
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
“Sexism isn't the same as misogyny, you stupid bitch” – Tucker Max
Misogyny - hatred, dislike, or mistrust of women – Dictionary.com
As of late, on the Amazon Forum, I have been accused of being a misogynist, a woman hater, and a female-basher. Fluffy has been called a racist and a homophobe. Lets discuss (level-headedly) the reasons we are called this, the people that call us this, and then I am going to freak the fuck out and go ape shit on these people. So for those of you that do not wish to be offended by my rant, feel free to read the first couple paragraphs, and I will warn you before I go crazy.
Misogyny, woman hating and female bashing.
All things I have been accused of. All essentially the same thing. All completely incorrect. There are two main perpetrators of this ignorance and falsifications. Their names on Amazon are Dan T. and Vicky Gallas. Some of the quotes that they have used to try and prove y woman hating ways are as follows:
"The rest of the evening consists of Fluffy, Captain Iran and I discussing our bowel movements with The Democrat's grandmother, and asking every chick for the rest of the night to show us her tits because we completed the South Street Challenge"
"Women USED to put out to their husbands"
“The Cunt. aka Slut Whore”
These quotes were all uttered by me, and all of them were uttered for comedic effect except one. However, I am going to justify each one.
Asking women to show us their tits: The women at the bar thought that we were hilarious. They enjoyed it, and laughed with us all night long. If they would have been offended, we would have apologized immediately and stopped.
Women USED to put out to their husband: Obviously some women still do. Obviously mine does or else I wouldn’t have two kids. Adding that in might have given a few people some laughs, so I did it. Get over it, it is not misogynist, it is funny. And if you don’t think it’s funny, that doesn’t make it sexist, or woman hating either.
The Cunt comment. Here it is. The big kahuna. Because I used the word CUNT to describe ONE woman, ONE time in my life, I am a misogynist. Because one woman did something so bad that it warranted being called a Cunt/Slut Whore, I have been labeled as a woman basher and a woman hater, etc. This is an ignorant claim made by people who dislike the fact that I am willing to state how I feel.
Just because you disagree with what someone says, does not give you the right to place labels on that person. Fluffy wrote an article about the double standard of the racial issue. The article was thought out, well written, and supported with accurate facts. Yet the first comment on the article is that he is a racist and hates gays as well. Why? Because he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.
If you think I am a woman hater, female basher, or misogynist, consider the fact that my wife reads every single blog I have posted. She thinks the funny ones are funny, and has enjoyed the rest. I have never once gotten out of line with my wife, and I certainly don’t use these words to describe my wife. My wife has never once had a single problem with me, or what I say or do.
Attention: If you are going to read past this point, prepare to be offended. It is going to be vulgar, curse laden, and I’m sure some people will think it is misogynistic and bigoted.’
Vicky and Dan,
You are the biggest fucking pieces of horse shit on this planet. I would rather stab myself in the eye with a rusty railroad tie and then give myself an IV of Tabasco sauce versus listening to your non-sensical, short minded, whiny bullshit.
Vicky, Just because you claim to be everything I am against, does not give you the right to make up some stupid fucking reasons to bash myself and fluffy. I do not hate women, but I hate people like you. Yes, you are a woman, a liberal, a hippie, and may have lived in France. Normally, I might laugh at your expense, and move on. But you have brought this on yourself. There is a reason that most patriotic Americans fucking despise you. I don’t hate you because you lived in France, or hail from the left side of the political aisle. I hate you because you are a spineless piece of fucking garbage. I gave you every fucking chance to comment. Until I get my Kindle back, I can not be certain that your comments that you posted on the website have posted, but I gave you every chance to comment via an email. You can go to yahoo.com and set up a free account called email@example.com and email it to me. I don’t give a bakers fuck what you do. Don’t you dare fucking accuse me of trying to censor you. Email me your comments, and I will post them. If not, quit your fucking whining, you little bitch.
To anyone else who thinks we are racists, or misogynists, or bigots. Fuck you. You don’t fucking know us. Am I offensive? Yes. Do I care what you think of my writings? No. What fucking grinds my gears is when you assault my fucking character. You have never met either of us. You don’t know what makes us tick. If you have a problem with our blog, then comment on it. Either on the site, or through an email. Otherwise, shut the fuck up and keep your fucking assumptions to yourself.
You know what grinds my gears? Other then the pussies that do nothing but talk shit until you give them a chance to respond, and then they DON’T comment? Seriously, some people just look for any chance to bitch. But, in addition to that, the Obama administration has chosen to try the 9/11 conspirators in a civilian court. This is bullshit on so many levels, and it makes my blood boil.
- The most important questions is this: What the fuck are they doing still in prison? How come they have not been tried yet. Bush had 7 years to try them, and nothing. I don’t normally like to bash on Bush because I think he did a great job, but it has been way too long.
- If you try them in a civilian court, you will give terrorism merit. You will validate it, and the people that commit it. Terrorism is not a joke, however it is not a crime that should be tried in a civilian court either. Just like terrorists should not be allowed to be housed in a prison on U.S soil.
- If you allow terrorists to have a podium to speak from, you are going to hear things you don’t want to. One of these such things is the fact that the CIA has overstepped their boundaries a few times. Frankly, I am not ready to victimize those people that have given everything to keep this country safe. I know this will piss someone off, so we will discuss this further in just a minute.
- Other terrorists are going to realize that they can also become famous if they are captured. They will receive excellent treatment, 3 meals a day, and get their face thrown all over CNN because they will be in court every single day spouting of their Radical Islamic bullshit. Again, I know this is going to piss people off, so we will discuss this in a minute
- Although everyone, including in a military tribunal is considered innocent until proven guilty, by holding these trials in public, everybody who has lost someone in a terrorist attack will be forced to watch as these assholes that have no respect for American lives get to plead “Not Guilty”. That is bullshit, and our citizens should not have to watch this. Yes, you can turn off the TV, but there will be non-stop coverage. Unless you live in a cave, you will hear about it.
Torture: I do not believe water-boarding is torture. I think it should be allowed. I hate the people that run around and make victims out of the people that masterminded 9/11. I wish every single person that has ever lobbied for terrorists rights, would just up and leave this country. You are the lowest level of scum in my book. There was a story that came out where a CIA interrogator was said to have carried a cordless drill in the room, and used it to make sounds. He did not use it on the terrorist, who deserves to have hundreds of tiny holes drilled through his spineless, waste of space body. Rather he used it to scare the suspect. This of course led to some hippie crybaby filing a complaint. To those lawyers who are the counsel appointed to a terrorist, I have no qualms with you. Everybody deserves a fair trial. However, in this case, it is a military tribunal that they deserve. To the public defenders, if there are any, I hope that you do your job to the best of your abilities. On that same note, if you find some technicality to get your client off, then you too should kill yourself. I know it sounds rough, and there’s not a lot of room for error, but it’s the honest opinion of many.
Finally, I do not hate Muslims. I do not hate practicers of Islam. What pisses me off is these Radical fucking douche bags who use their religion to justify murdering innocent women and children. I exclude men from this category because for the most part, men are of able body and mind to serve in the military. However, do not get me wrong, there are still innocent men that have been victims of ignorant crimes committed by self-serving cry babies that represent Radical Islam. The Koran has been used and abused to serve a point. It is bullshit how perverted this religion has become in order to serve the wishes of some assholes who want nothing more then to cause pain to innocent people who have never held a weapon before in their lives. If these fuck-tards tried putting on a uniform and fighting in organized combat, they wouldn’t stand a chance. However, they don’t. They use the mentally ill, and children to carry suicide vests so that they don’t get hurt. The men who condone this are the biggest pansies of all. Osama bin Laden talks a huge game when he hides for 365 days of the year. If it were anyone else, they would be a pussy. But it is not. It is the person who caused the single most disastrous event that has ever happened on American Soil.
If you couldn’t tell from my rant, I hate terrorists. I don’t respect them as people, or as opponents in a war. They are not even worthy of being acknowledged. But know this, if we try them as civilians, they become famous, and they get validated. It is wrong, it is immoral, and frankly, it is the dumbest thing we can do. We may get a minor victory when they are found guilty, but they receive a greater victory when we give merit to their crimes.
The Wife hadn’t seen Texas Rose in almost 3 years when General Eikenberry decides to fly her(Tex) to NY to be reunited with The Wife. So this whole weekend The Wife and Tex have been catching up. Fri was a fun day, but not overly exciting. On Sat, we decide to check out Niagara Falls, and after returning, decide that we are going to go out to a club. We’ll call this club Leather(although that’s not the correct name, its close.). We hang out at our house for a few, and then General Eikenberry and Tex(She was staying with him due to the extra rooms) leave so they can get ready and also allow myself and The Wife some smashing(i.e fucking) time. After a pretty solid smashing, we get ready and head over.
The Wife and Tex have already drank a glass of wine and 2 Smirnoff’s a piece, so the night is starting off well. When we arrive at Eikenberry’s house, the girls and Eikenberry start drinking. I, being the D.D, sit down and start watching some football. The girls start to get ready while still drinking, and begin to get very “friendly” with each other. Tex is already showing signs of the alcohol in her system, and is completely disregarding the social norms known as personal space. Somehow the subject turns to the fact that The Wife has made out with girls before, but that Tex has not.
These conversations go back and forth for a while until we decide its time to go. We pile into Eikenberry’s vehicle and before we even leave the driveway, The Wife and Tex have their first kiss.
A little side note before I continue, after the entire nights events, although Tex and The Wife make out multiple times, I do not believe that either is Lesbian, or even Bisexual for that matter. Both were severely intoxicated, and although they were having a lot of fun together, I do not think either of them is prepared to go any further then making out.
Continuing on, after the first kiss, I start driving into the city to the club. Along the way, Tex starts to show just how drunk she is by repeating herself multiple times. At some point, the question comes out about “How do lesbians have sex?” I proceed to do my best to answer the question is words that these two will comprehend in their inebriated state. I say, “You eat her, she eats you, and you use toys to do the rest.” Both of the ladies begin to argue that they wouldn’t have fun without a penis in the mix. I then ask them if either of them have ever gotten off without penetration. They both concede that a lesbian relationship is definitely possible, but both vehemently deny that it is in the cards for them.
As we get into the city, about 10 minutes out from the bar, The Wife says she has to pee. She just peed before we left the house, so I’m hoping she can make it the final 10 minutes. Tex starts getting mad at me for not pulling off the road to the imaginary port-o-john. I tell her that she is an idiot, and that I am not sending my wife out to pee on the side of the highway. We get one block away, and The Wife is almost in tears, so I pull over to a restaurant. I tell them to go in there, I’ll park the car, and we’ll meet at the club. The restaurant is on the passenger side, away from traffic, but so is Tex. The Wife almost shoves her out of the car trying to get out to use the bathroom. Eikenberry decides to stay with them since they are both incapable of a sober thought. I drive off and park the car about 6 blocks away from the bar.
As I get up to the bar, I am greeted with two sights. They both pretty much set the tone for the night:
1) Some coked out broad was kicked out of the club. Its not even midnight, and she has been thrown out. Apparently when they kicked her out, she tried staying close to the building, but they wouldn’t let her, so she walks between two cars parked on the side of the road and asks multiple times if this is far enough. The bouncer is ignoring her, so she keeps shouting and asking. She reaches in to her purse looking for cigarettes and a prescription bottle falls out causing laughter from everyone in line.
2) Tex is wearing a cops hat and practically molesting him. I see this as I walk up and can only chuckle. Then she starts screaming that The Wife is “her bitch.” She tells the cops, the people in line with us, and I’m pretty sure she was talking to the mailbox and called it an asshole for not acknowledging her. We get in line and finally get inside.
Once inside, Eikenberry gets some drinks for the girls, and we hit the dance floor. For those of you that haven’t read the Midget Wrestling story, Bunny doesn’t dance. It is a physical act that my body is incapable of committing. So I’m dancing with The Wife while Tex molests her. Tex and The Wife make out a few more times, and Tex gets progressively drunker.
The climax of the night came when Tex fell over into the side of a trash can. No one is quite sure why she fell, or what caused her too, but anyone in the vicinity knew that she did. After being picked up, Tex spends the next 30 minutes telling Eikenberry, The Wife, and myself(all of us having watched her fall already) about how she fell into the trash can and how it was embarrassing. She is recounting the story as if she were scoring the winning touchdown for High School State Championships. The kicker comes when she tries to reenact is in slow motion. This of course involves her ending up on the ground yet again. At this point, I tell Eikenberry that she can’t have any more alcohol.
He agrees and we hang out a little longer. Around 1:30, Tex passes out on Eikenberry’s shoulder while dancing. We decide that its time to pack it in and call it a night. We get out of the bar, and I tell them to meet me on the corner and I’ll go get the vehicle. I go get the vehicle, and see that they are towing other peoples cars on the same side as where I parked. When I parked the car, I crossed the street, and then looked at the sign, it said “No Parking” and then listed times. The most relevant time was 7PM Friday to 6 AM Saturday. So I can’t understand why they are towing vehicles. Then I see a sign on the side that I am parked that says, “No Parking.” Followed by 7PM Sat to 6AM Sun. My first thought is that if I got Eikenberry’s vehicle towed, he is going to shit a brick. Thankfully, they have not made it to his vehicle yet. I make a preliminary check for “boots” on the tires and tickets. By some form of luck, there is neither on the vehicle.
Thanking my lucky stars, I drive off and start to look for them. As I am pulling up to the pre-agreed upon corner, I see The Wife cross the street followed by Eikenberry carrying Tex. Apparently this doesn’t fly with Tex who wants to cross the street by herself, so she makes Eikenberry take her back to the beginning of the crosswalk and start again. As she is crossing, cars pull up to the intersection. Eikenberry stands there with his hand out in the universal stop gesture and shouts “Road Guards Post.”
After shoving them in the vehicle and child locking the door so Tex can’t open it, we start to drive off. We have to drive past all of the cops and bars that we were just at. Tex asks if she can roll her window down and shout out obscenities. Being the anti-fun cock blocker that I am, I decide that I don’t want to get arrested or beaten up and tell her no. After locking the windows, I see that The Wife’s is still down, and that Tex is trying to shout out of it. I roll that up and relock the windows. We are stuck in traffic and barely moving so Tex decides it would be a good idea to lean forward and start fucking with me. She starts poking me in the face, asking why I won’t let her yell out something about whores out the window. After about 30 seconds of this, I get frustrated and tell her to “Sit the fuck back before I break your fucking finger.” Tex begins to repeat over and over again that, “I’ve never seen Bunny so upset. I made him upset.”
This continues on until we get about 15 minutes from home. The Wife decides that she has the bladder of an infant and has to use the restroom, yet again. We pull up to the first gas station and myself and General Eikenberry get out to check if they have a bathroom. Because I put the child-lock on Tex’s door, she is unable to get out, even after unlocking it. She complains about this on the entire drive to the next gas station since the first one does not have a restroom. At the second stop, she again can not get out and begins to complain again. She keeps telling us that she lifted the lock, and still can’t get out. Over, and over, and over, and over again.
At the second gas station, there are 5 cops inside getting coffee. Seeing that this is going to be a good time, I get out, accompanying the other three inside. We find out they do not have a restroom, and corral the 2 girls outside. As we are walking to the restroom, Tex starts talking about how it is bullshit that they don’t have a restroom. She says that there are 5 cops in there, they MUST have a restroom. We get back in the car and drive off as Tex rants about how she would fight the cops if they said anything about The Wife having to take a piss. Then she drops this gem on us, “It’s funny, cuz I don’t even KNOW karate, but I would tell them I do, and they’d be afraid. I mean, look at these boots, and this vest. Yeah, they’d be afraid.”
We drive about a mile down the road and pull over by some trees because The Wife is almost in tears. We all get out, and Eikenberry is the first to finish. He announces tha he is done, and Tex responds with, “I wish I had a penis.” Eikenberry, not being wasted, is pretty quick on his feet and responds with, “I’ll give you one as soon as we get home.”
The final 10 minutes of the drive were uneventful due to Tex passing out in the car. The Wife and I go inside with them and ensure that Tex is ok, before leaving.
All in all, the night was a very fun and eventful night. That being said, during the weekend there was a DUI arrest at a base I used to work at, so I have this public service announcement to make. If you are going to drink, have a safe ride home. We made every plan ahead of time to ensure we had a way home. It is simply not worth it to spend the night drinking and then try to make the trip home. Find a safe ride. There is nothing funny about driving drunk. You run the risk of hurting yourself, or others. If you wanna be stupid, fine, but don’t take others with you.
Monday, November 16, 2009
I foresee this one being difficult to write. Let me preface it by saying that I am not a racist; I am merely opinionated. I have been places and seen things that contribute to said opinions. As a member of the United States military, it is my perception that there are no races, no black, white, red, yellow, whatever. Everyone is green, everyone is equal. The topic I am about to discuss is a sensitive one, one that tends to get me riled up, so do not be surprised if I, for the first time since being brought on, introduce the swear word into my writing.
With that out of the way, it really fucking (oops, that was quick) grinds my gears when people play the race card in every situation. This is the 21st century, people, stop bitching that you can’t get a job because the “white man” is holding you down. No, you can’t get a job because you dropped out of school, you didn’t go to college, or, more likely, you’re just not trying. You didn’t get arrested because you’re Hispanic, you got arrested because you showed your ass in public and you don’t understand that people very rarely get away with crimes anymore. Racial double standards plague this country and that is what prevents us from moving forward as a whole.
I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but yes, I have seen the movie “Bring It On: All Or Nothing.” In it, Camille, played by Solange Knowles, refers to Britney, played by Hayden Panettiere, as “white girl,” on more than one occasion. Due to social faux pas and the inevitable political fall-out that would stem from it, Britney never once refers to Camille as, “black girl.” Perhaps someone in the audience can answer this for me: how is it okay for one party to describe another in terms of skin color, and yet be hyper-sensitive if the other party does it in return? Can you imagine what would happen if someone was called “black girl” in a film or on TV? Al Sharpton would grow 15 stories tall and start shooting laser beams from his eyes and breathing fire all over Jena, Louisiana.
Set to go to trial this week is the case of an African-American woman in Missouri, who 3 years ago cut in line at a Walmart checkout. Witnesses and police statements say that the woman shoved someone else’s merchandise off of the conveyer belt and placed hers down, just so she could join her cousin whose line was moving faster. They say she became belligerent and violent, kicking one customer and splitting another’s lip while resisting arrest. According to the accused, a white customer pushed her from behind after she cut in line, and police officers physically assaulted and racially demeaned her as she was being placed under arrest. Now, I don’t have all the facts here, nor am I a member of the community where this event took place, so it’s difficult to comment one way or another, but why would a handful of witnesses and policemen (some of which may not have been white) falsify statements simply to see a black woman be put to justice? It seems more likely that someone being arrested would lie in an attempt to get out of trouble.
In other news, The United States Supreme Court today let stand a decision made by a lower court that the Washington Redskins of the National Football League will not be responsible for changing their team name and mascot. Previously, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit ruled that the National Congress of American Indians had waited too long to file a complaint against the team; the “Redskins” trademark was issued in 1967, and the lawsuit filed in 1992. Apparently 25 years is too long to decide you want to stir up the pot and bitch about something.
This brings me to my next point: why is it okay for an ethnic group to use perceived slurs when referring to themselves, but complain when others do it to them? For example, the Union Youth Football Association, a member of the Indian Nations Football Conference, also goes by the name “Redskins.” Since they’re members of an American Indian football organization, that term is okay, but since the NFL organization isn’t, it’s not okay? I’ll leave the dreaded “n word” out of this, but suffice it to say that hypocrisy really pisses me off.
If you’re going to get upset because someone demeans you or your people, fine, but don’t turn around and call me a honkey or a cracker or a white boy and expect me to let it slide. If you want your own TV station that airs programs that you enjoy, cool, but tell Jesse Jackson not to get upset if I want one too. If you join a group that’s dedicated to the advancement of a particular ethnic group, I’m all for it, but don’t tell me I’m not allowed to join as well; after all, white is a color too, is it not?
Final thought, taken from USA Today reader TheVoiceOfReason:
“Isn't all of this "you hurt my feelings with that word" getting a little ridiculous? I have a 4 and 7 year old daughter and eight or ten times per day I have to listen to that from them. (And just how often do we hear that sickening whine from the gayers, Jessie Jackson, and Al Sharpton?)
My response to the people who walk around with their feelings on their shoulders is the same as I tell my kids: "Don't let other people control your emotions with words. The best way to get back at them is to laugh and ridicule them for using the word and then completely ignore them to show that their words have absolutely no effect on you"
We need a movement in the United States called ‘People dedicated to adults growing up’!”
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Uh… Where to begin? Are you an IDIOT? Did you seriously get in Mike Tyson’s face and try to take his picture? While he was with his family, no less? Dude, he bit a guy's EAR off. You really want to tangle with that? What the fuck is wrong with you?
On that note, what the fuck is wrong with all you paparazzi douche bags? Climbing trees, high speed chases, airport encounters? Even the famous deserve some degree of privacy. There is no level that these fucktards won’t stoop to. Did you know that the lady that had her face ripped off by a chimpanzee had to hire an armed guard because she knew the paparazzi wanted a picture of her face?
Imagine a world without Perez I-can-call-you-a-faggot-
Are celebrities really that cool? No. The only reason they get so much attention is because this crap is shoved down our fucking throats every time we turn on the fucking TV or Radio. Frankly, I don’t give a baker’s fuck if Lindsay Lohan is on drugs again. Guess what? That’s her life, and her cross to bear. I can’t stand that chick, but at the same time, I sympathize with her because she can’t even leave a fucking voice mail without her dad going public with it. Or A-Rod. So what if the guy has a picture of himself as a centaur hanging over his bed? What’s hanging over your bed? Which is creepier, staring at yourself as a half horse-half human hybrid, or staring at a picture of your family, while you’re doing things… that adults do….in bed? Ya know…..sex things.
Wow. So the open letter totally turned into an anti-paparazzi rant. Oh well. If you don’t like it, tough crap.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
I, (state name), do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.
Words to live by, right? I thought so, and so have a few million others throughout the history of our nation. For those unfamiliar with the passage above, it is the Oath of Enlistment of the U.S. military, a declaration of unwavering faith spoken by all who voluntarily offer their lives in defense of the United States of America. And while not every service member is called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice, we are all prepared to at any time, and it is that fact that sets us apart from the rest. It is not out of arrogance that I say this, but out of pride and loyalty for a country that offers us the freedoms that so many around the world only dream of.
There’s not a common thing that draws men and women to serve. Some join for the opportunity to repay the nation for things they have been given. Others, to receive an education. For others still, simply put, to kill. But no matter what the motivating force, we are all united under one common cause: to protect our land and our people from facing fear and harm.
On this 55th observance of Veterans Day as we know it, I ask, while you may not support our current conflicts, or those of the past, that we put aside political differences and reflect on those who have fought to provide a future for our population, one free of tyranny and oppression. Our Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines aren’t doing this for fame or glory. The only way you’ll hear their names on the evening news is if they’re arriving at Dover Air Force Base in a casket adorned with Old Glory. They’re not doing it for money; any one of them will tell you a civilian job will pay better dividends. They do it for hope, for the vision that our actions now will lay the groundwork for a world that knows no war or violence. Funny, you may think, that in order to end violence, we must engage in it, yet we must not forget that he who desires peace must prepare for war.
I leave you now with a final thought, one that summarizes my words and, hopefully, invokes personal reflection. Taken from a promotional television ad for the US Navy, I believe this holds true for the members of all five military branches, both past and present:
"The call to serve, it has no sound, yet I have heard it in the whispered re-telling of honorable sacrifices made by those who have served before me. The call to serve has no form, yet I have clearly seen it, in the eyes of men and women infinitely more courageous and more driven than most. The call to serve has no weight, yet I have held it in my hands. I will commit to carry it close to my heart until my country is safe, and the anguish of those less fortunate has been soothed. The call to serve is at once invisible and always-present, and for those who choose to answer the call, for their country, for their fellow man, for themselves, it is the most powerful force on Earth."
Today in honor of Veteran’s Day, I am going to write on a more serious note. There is nothing in this world that I believe in more then fighting for this country. In my 5 years in the military, I have had it rather easy. I deployed for 4 months to a relatively safe base. However, that being said, I stand ready at a moments notice to pick up the rifle of a fallen Soldier, Airman, Marine, or Sailor, and give my life for this country. Unfortunately, the pain of this war has hit incredibly close with the loss of a friend, “Joker.” Joker was killed in Iraq in 2007. He is, and will always be remembered as an American Hero.
Although I may rip on Democrats, the French, hippies, and any other group of people I don’t agree with, if you are in one of those categories, but you support our troops, or are prepared to stand with this in the fight against evil, then I hold no issue with you. All joking aside, if you are prepared to die for your country, or if you support those that are, then I will shake your hand as a friend any day of the week. On that same note, if you care to spit in the face of those that defend your freedoms, get the fuck out of here. Cancel your subscription and take a hike. I do NOT want a reader who does not support our troops. I don’t care about your political, religious, or socio-economic views, but if you don’t support out troops, then you and I have an issue.
Stepping off my soapbox for a little bit, I would like to thank the people that have met so much to me.
The Wife – You and I have been through so much in 4 years. I do not know how I would have survived everything I have been through without you by my side. Not only are you there for me when I need you most, you are also there for me when I don’t even realize it. Through deployments and business trips, you have held down the fort and have welcomed me home every time with open arms. I know that you understand why I choose to do the things I do, and although you don’t always agree with them, knowing that you support my decisions makes it easier. If every military member had a spouse as amazing as you, deployments would be easier. I love you with all my heart, and from the depths of my soul, I thank you for your support. Without you, I would fail.
Joker – Hey buddy. You are a true American Hero. I will never forget your sacrifice. You have shown me the way to be a better person. You will always be missed and never forgotten.
Moms and Pops – You stood by me when I said I was going to enlist, and through it all, you have supported me as well as any mother and father can. Thank you and Happy Veterans Day.
Joker’s Family – 2 Tall, 2 Toes, and Momma, Such an amazing family. Thank you for your hospitality every time we have come through. Your son and brother was an amazing person. Words can not express how deeply The Wife and I feel for you. If there ever was something to be grateful about after your son’s passing, it is that I got to meet such an amazing family.
Veterans – Without us, this nation would fall. Although I may not have seen “action” like others, I am there with you in spirit and support. All too often, the defenders of freedom are forgotten. This is because we are never appreciated until we are needed. No one knows the sacrifices that are made by veterans every single day, except fellow veterans. From the bottom of my heart, I extend a thank you to everyone who has served either in combat, or without ever seeing action.
With that off my chest, I would like to display some quotes that help us remember the magnitude of this day.
“Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and success of liberty.” – John F. Kennedy
“Hey buddy” – Eric “Joker” Barnes. 7/30/1986 – 6/10/2007
“Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum.” If you want peace, prepare for war.
“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died, rather we should thank God that such men lived.” – George Patton
“On this Memorial Day, we look out on quiet hills, and rows of white headstones – and we know that we are in the presence of greatness.” - George W. Bush
“This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave.” – Elmer Davis
Monday, November 9, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
(Written on 5 Nov. Posted on 6 Nov due to stupid Crackberry issues.)
As many of you now know, the Yankees are the best team in the MLB. Last night, behind the powerful bat of Hideki Matsui, they topped the Phillies in what can only be described as one of the best World Series’ in this decade.
Some background: I am a die hard Yankees fan, and Fluffy drinks the proverbial kool-aid known as Phillie Phandom.(You gotta use the PH in place of the F when you’re talking about Philly. Try that shit out, it’s pretty fun.) Obviously, with the closeness of our friendship, and the fact that our teams were facing each other for the highest honors in MLB, Oct/Nov was destined to be a very intense time. If I had to estimate the number of profanity laced insults that were hurled across battle lines, it would be somewhere in the range of 475, 638.(Fluffy says this estimate may be a little low.)
In keeping with my promise to Fluffy that I would not brag about the Yankees accomplishments, I will only cover two topics here. Both topics grind my gears, and if you disagree with me, then you obviously don’t watch baseball often enough, hate America, or both.
Hideki Matsui was not the series MVP. The series MVP is an award that should be handed out to the person that is the best baseball player during the series. If you hit the shit out of the ball, but have 12 errors while fielding, then you suck, please move along. If you field the ball perfectly, but strike out 13 times(*cough* Ryan Howard *cough*) then you obviously aren’t the MVP. So the issue at heart here is whether the DH, Hideki Matsui, deserves the MVP award. Chase Utley hit 5 HR’s, tying Reggie Jackson’s record for most HR’s in a World Series. A-Rod, while slumping early, still managed to help the Yankees finish out some very tough games. In my humble opinion, although Matsui had an amazing Game 6, he only played in 3 games, and there are more deserving players.
Why are the Yankees so hated? I’ve heard a couple of bullshit namby pamby reasons, and I am going to tear them apart for your literary pleasures.
“They spend too much money”
If they didn’t MAKE the money, they wouldn’t spend it. Therefore, they must be making plenty of money to cover salaries, plus a small profit. For those of you that may have just immigrated for Russia, and therefore don’t know better, this is a concept called Capitalism. Regardless of what the Democrats will try to tell you, it is a concept that America has thrived on for hundreds of years. Did the Yanks spend the most money? Yes. Did they win the title because they spent the most money? That’s open to interpretation. If you are going to accuse the Yankee’s of buying the title, there are some important facts that you should know. In the last 10 years, there are a total of 2 repeat winners. Not back-to-back, but winning twice in the 10 years. The Yankee’s became the second team last night, but it had been 9 years since they won previously. Obviously the money isn’t everything.
“A-Rod admitted to steroid usage.”
This one is understandable. I don’t agree with him using steroids, but at the same time, unless you can prove he has used them while playing for the Yankees, your point is moot.(I’m not 100% sure if this is the correct usage of the word “moot” but it’s my blog, and I’m gonna use it here.)
“I don’t like the owner.”
No bullshit, I actually heard this from a caller on the radio. I am hoping that there isn’t more then one idiot out there, but just in case there is, please inform me of WHY?!?!? He is less involved then Al Davis, less cocky then Jerry Jones, and less vocal then Mark Cuban. I have never heard of Steinbrenner “over-managing” his team. I’m gonna chalk this one up to some idiot looking for a reason to hate America’s best team.
With this, I will end all baseball discussion until next season. However, if anyone would like to contradict, or counter anything I have said, please feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Thursday, November 5, 2009
It’s November 4th, 2001. The nation is still reeling from unspeakable acts of terrorism performed by foreign men who wish to bring down the empire of the United States. Unbeknownst to most, there is another foreign man within the country who also has plans to bring down an empire. His name is Luis Gonzalez. He patrols the left field of Bank One Ballpark, and with one swift swing of a bat, he brings the faithful followers of the Arizona Diamondbacks to their feet, and the dynasty of the New York Yankees to its knees.
Flash forward now, exactly eight years later. The time is 11:51 p.m. The batter is Philadelphia Phillies center fielder Shane Victorino, the Flyin’ Hawaiian. The count is 3 balls and 2 strikes. The pitch is a fastball, low. The result? A ground ball to second base, and a pinstripe pileup that for seven days I could only sit and hope wouldn’t come at the expense of my beloved Fightin’ Phils. Unfortunately, it did. And the Yankees have once again returned to glory
I suppose congratulations are in order for New York. They performed better than Philadelphia when it counted, and therefore were crowned champions. After all the heated debates I engaged in, the trash talking and the purchasing of Phillies apparel for other people’s children, one might think I’d be angry at New York for winning. I hate them with such a passion for the way they conduct their business. Employing known steroid users with no repercussions. Purchasing all of the best available players just because they have the money. But in the end, when you look at it, even though they may buy a new team every three or four years, they still come together and succeed. Opinions aside, you have to respect that.
Don’t get me wrong, you won’t ever catch me wearing a NY cap, or even coming in contact with one with anything less than MOPP 4 gear on. I stand proud as a member of Phillies Nation, a collective group of men and women who support our organization through the high times and the lows, through National League titles and 10,000 losses, parades down Broad Street and battery-throwing incidents at Veterans Stadium. It’s not always easy. All-Stars have come and gone. Losing seasons have piled up. Voices have died. And yet, somehow, the team always finds a way to battle back. This loss isn’t as tough to swallow as the Series defeat in 1993, the Game 6 where infamous Joe Carter jumped for joy around the bases after winning it all for Toronto with a home run in the 9th inning, leaving my family and my city shocked and silenced. For fourteen years following that dreadful night, the Phillies were stooped in mediocrity, failing to make the playoffs until 2007, when they finally got to taste the sweetness of October baseball yet again. I can only hope that this team won’t know such misfortune. But, if they do…well, World Series, I’ll be seeing you in 2023.And so we are entering what, for a long while, I've viewed as the most depressing time of year. No, not winter, not the holidays, not even the NBA season. No, my dear readers, we are about to embark on a boring, lackluster four-month period known as the Major League Baseball offseason.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
You see, a while back – it will be 4 months tomorrow, to be exact – B and I undertook a marvelous, albeit immensely disgusting, feat of human food consumption. We each took a 12 inch cheese steak from Jim’s (Whiz with, naturally), slapped her vertically on a 14 inch slice of pizza from Lorenzo & Sons, folded it in half, and with jaws unhinged, ingested our creations with the force and awe that you would only see during feeding time in the reptile house at the Philadelphia Zoo. Now, B has already told this story in the inaugural entry of this web log, and my only purpose of re-telling it is to point out that from this story rose the idea to document our misadventures and share them with the world, for the low-low price of $1.99 per month.
For a few weeks now, B has been trying to have his blog published by the people who produce Tucker Max’s website. Only recently did he learn that Amazon also offers this service, and on this glorious first Wednesday in November of 2009, the life tellings of one, now two, red-blooded Americans are available for your reading pleasure. The current followers, and those who have been brought here by the undeniable magnitude of my awesomeness, will notice that we will not share any real names in our stories. If you are so lucky to be mentioned in the pages of this on-going account, consider yourself lucky, but be forewarned that at some point, you are probably going to do something that will warrant you getting made fun of, and that your moniker in the tale will almost undoubtedly be tied to a very obvious shortcoming. If you don’t like it, tough bananas. Either a) don’t show your ass when I’m around, or 2) go back to perusing the headlines on CNN.com, because you are most likely an out-of-touch-with-reality liberal douche. I know it’s probably not fair of me to lump everything into these two possibilities and leave no room for debate, but too bad. I’m a veteran, and I will do as I please.
For those readers who aren’t fortunate enough to know B and I in real life, we are quite the dynamic duo, playing off each other’s strengths and praying on each other’s weaknesses. I’ve gladly accepted his offer to co-author this blog. Rest assured that if it happens, and one of us isn’t ripping on it, the other will be there to pick up the slack. Neither of us having the tendency to bite his tongue, he and I are about to unleash a series of narrative editorials the likes of which have never been seen before. As Samuel Jackson so famously says in Jurassic Park, “hold on to your butts.”
I am Fluffy, I am here, and I am a horse. No, a centaur.