Here is a fun little time sucker of a game. I recommend playing it at work with the volume down. (Thanks Andrew)

If you are at work, and are tired of dealing with customers, or looking for great ideas on how to deal with those “special” customers, you may want to check this one out. (Thanks R Salas)

For all you techy/help desk types you will appreciate this video. Seriously, this one hits the mark. (Thanks SGT William)

If your Friday feels incomplete, how about a little blasphemous fun to round out your day? And a second one in case the first wasn’t blasphemous enough for you. (Thanks Kelly)

Here is a video of someone trying desperately to win a Darwin Award, and his cousins encouraging him (Thanks scalexd)

A video submission for the gamers amongst us. I think we all can understand where Mario is coming from on this one. (Thanks Orrin)

Mark and Patty sent me two submissions. The first is a spiritual debate, of sorts. The second is cute yet somehow creepy too. (Thanks Mark and Patty)

For our men and women in the military, a short film about VD. (Thanks Mint Z)

And finally, the one actual email submission, that is not a link on the web. (Props to you for thinking out side the box). So I will post it below. ( Thanks gallisonc)

Misunderstanding terms

One reason the Services have trouble operating jointly is that they don’t speak the same language.

For example, if you told Marines to “secure a building,” they would assault the building, capture it, and defend it with suppressive fire and close combat.

Army personnel would occupy the building so no one could enter.

The Air Force would take out a three-year lease with an option to buy

Navy personnel they would turn off the lights and lock the doors.

I was thinking that yesterdays post may have been a bit harsh. I let my new found power go to my head.

I don’t need to be an ego-maniacal dictator just because Skippy is incommunicado. No, this should be a fun time for all of us.

It’s like having mom and dad out of the house. We have an entire website devoted to humor, all to ourselves.

And you know what that means…

PARTY!

Oh, hell ya! We are going to party like it is 1999, (because those were better times for damned near everyone). So lets go nuts.

As a one time offer, I want submissions from all of you for the “Found on the Internet” section that Skippy does when he has nothing else to blog about.

Send me your favorite website, or video, or photo, or chain letter, or political joke that you received in an email from your liberal or conservative asshat of an uncle, or anything else on the web that you think a bunch of other people on the internet, that you don’t even know, need to see on a Friday morning.

If you got something you want to share with the class, send it to me, here, and I’ll post the best on the site.

It’s like what Booger from ‘Revenge of the Nerds’ told Tom Cruise’ character in ‘Risky Business’, “Sometimes you have to say, what the fuck.”

Right now, I am blogging with no pants. Just my shirt and underwear and sliding my computer across the floor to Bob Segar music. (This would probably be cooler if the song was not , “Turn the Page”).

So lets get some booze, broads, guns and fire engines, maybe even a donkey, and invite a few thousand of our closest friends and post a bunch of weird crap to the site. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part, and we’re just the guys to do it.

LET’S DO IT!

And since we are talking parties, Lt. Ronald, in a brilliant stroke of synchronicity, actually submitted a post about parties… sort of. Enjoy.

Has anyone seen this show? It’s on MTV, and its basic premise is a bunch of spoiled rich teen aged girls who are about to turn sixteen, and the demands that these brats put on their rich fathers.

The episode that I watched had a little bitch that wanted her father to rent out a mansion, not because they didn’t have a mansion of their own, but people had already been to their mansion, she wanted her party at a new mansion, when told that the mansion would cost 60,000$ for the night the father started to balk at the price. Seeing this, the daughter started throwing a temper tantrum to which the father looked mortified and quickly signed the lease.

That wasn’t as bad as her being pissed that R. Kelly was the entertainment for the night versus Julio Iglasias whom she wanted. Too bad R. Kelly didn’t do to her what he does to other teenagers.

Daddy made it up to her though by getting her a new Lexus convertible. She made it clear to everyone at home by telling them “Daddy Loves me.”

All I could think as I watched this was “Dooooooeeeeeesssssss heeeeeeeeeeee? Well then maybe he’d pay a nice ransom.”

I could see it now, sending him her toes wrapped in wax paper, maybe some pictures of her being sodomized by a hobo off the street (after all tears make the best lubricant).

I don’t know what is more wrong;

A. That there are people out there who are actually like that.

B. That MTV shows us these people.

C. That watching that shit makes me think of committing felonies.

D. That Paris Hilton and Nichole Ritchie haven’t had those felonies committed against them.

So over here in Iraq, there are a lot of similarities to a fraternity house.  Our days are pretty much filled with getting buff, getting some work done, and making constant homo-erotic comments.

Well one thing that you learn fast is that you should never look forward to your birthday.  It is filled with nothing but practical jokes, and if you ever fall asleep during your birthday, you can pretty much count on waking up with another man’s penis in your face.

Now, with that said, I had a very unfortunate encounter on my Squadron Commander’s birthday.  Everyone was trying to figure out the best way to truly “get the boss” as it were.  Being the king of mischief as I am, I decided to moon him.  Unoriginal, I know, but a tried and true prank that is always good for a laugh.  So I go up to my Commander’s door, a little nervous, being that he can court martial me, and I knock three times, turn around and wait for him answer.

As soon as I hear the door open, I pull my shorts down, scream out “THAAAAAAAAAAT’S MY BUTT!!!!!!!” and I start to run away.  The problem is, I didn’t pull my shorts up all the way before I start running, and my feet got caught up, causing me to fall flat on my face with my pants down.

As a result, my Commander is laughing his ass off at my follies, clearly not even bothered by the fact that he just got mooned, and I had to go see the medic for a cracked nose and bruised cheek.  I still feel as if I won that round though.

Does that make me stubborn, stupid, or just a Soldier?  You be the judge.

Well, well, well.

Skippy and his wife are in the process of moving, and as of now, are no longer online for about a week or so.

In his infinite wisdom, Skippy has given me control of the website in his absence.

It is difficult to find the words to express how I feel about accepting this weighty responsibility of providing humorous material, for thousands of people to enjoy, while they screw around on the internet at work. But, I think Alexander Haig said it best, after the assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan, when he said, “I’m in charge.”

Or maybe it was Star Scream from the Transformers during one of the many times he thought Megatron was dead. I’m not really sure.

The point is, that I now wield the cursor of doom, and all submissions must come through me for approval and editing.

For the next week I am your new god. Contributors will sing my praises, as I lift them up and publish their works for the whole world to see. Or… they will tremble in fear as I crush their dreams of blogging for a humorous military/gaming/geeky stuff website.

With me in charge, we shall experience what is best in life. To crush our enemies. To see them driven before us. And to hear the lamentations of their women.

All will kneel before Zod Michiel.

Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!

And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming with a short piece from our own Sgt. Brick.

My father told me this story when I was 15 in an effort to dispel the notion that Green Berets have no sense of humor.  I pass it on now because he is no longer here to do it himself, and it’s a story that should definitely be passed around.

When Dad was in Vietnam, there was a rash of light bulb thefts on base.  Every time the light bulbs would be replaced, they would be stolen just as fast.  Eventually, the CO caught on to what was happening, and decided that the joke was over.  He assembled everyone together and told them that if even ONE more light bulb disappeared, the off-base passes of everyone on base would be revoked, and nobody would be allowed into the base beyond assigned personnel.  Word had begun to circle the base that some of the lieutenants had taken the light bulbs in an effort to frame some of the sergeants (my father included) that they didn’t like, and soon the words were backed up by evidence.  The next day, a few more light bulbs went missing, and true to his word, the CO revoked the passes and pissed off everyone not involved with the theft.

Dad and his barracks-mates were naturally upset about these events, but decided that instead of going to the CO immediately and telling him what they knew about the lieutenants, they would wait patiently for an opportunity to reward them in their own special way.

About a week later, when everyone had been couped up and pissed off long enough, my father’s friend Lee discovered that some of the lieutenants involved with the thefts had been sneaking some of the local women of ill-repute into their barracks for the past few nights.  And that was when they saw their opportunity to get back their passes and the lieutenants.

Dad went to the CO, hat in hand, and told him that while he didn’t want to stir up trouble, but he felt that he should know that there were some non-assigned personnel on base, and he might want to look for them in the barracks, and proceeded to give his CO the barrack numbers of the lieutenants.  The CO’s eyes bugged and he stormed out of the office. Dad met Lee outside the CO’s office, and together they walked over to the comm office and were informed by their buddy working the switchboards that a call had just come in from one of the lieutenants that had been sold out.  Apparently, this Lieutenant wasn’t too happy about being caught, and was trying to warn his buddies in the next barracks over that the CO was on the warpath.  Dad grinned.  Lee grinned.  The switchboard guy hung up on the lieutenant and didn’t connect any calls to or from the barracks under inspection.

The passes were returned the next day, and that group of lieutenants never hassled my dad and his friends again.

It’s Monday.   Here’s more things that you should not do.

(Submitted by SPC Andrew Sheffield)

1. Not allowed to recite the Specialist creed during the promotion board as a substitute for not knowing the NCO creed.
2. Not allowed to recite the Specialist creed during any formation/ceremony.
3. A rubber band and paperclip is not an authorized military weapon and will not take the place of my M249.
4. Not allowed to prove said weapon by firing at the first officer that walks by my office.
5. “You’ll be alright,” is not a term to be used when a soldier needs medical assistance.
6. The DFAC does not put mind control drugs in the food or drinks.
7. Not allowed to brake check civilians while driving a HUMVEE.
8. Not allowed to drive over curbs to wake up my TC.
9. Not allowed to Jump anything while in a HUMVEE.
10. Edible underwear is not authorized during field exercise’s.
11. (later that day) Edible underwear is not to be eaten during field exercise’s.
12. I do not have a god hand and I am not aloud to administer divine punishment.
13. The term “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em,” is not a command to open fire.
14. It is not funny to change the CPT’s decaf with espresso. Especially a half hour before formation.