Archive for March, 2009

I was recently having a conversation with my fiance, who is all of 100lbs, about having children. Actually wait, she was having the conversation with me, because the last thing that us guys want to talk about is turning “our” vagina into the panama canal, and “our” tits into sprinkler systems… sometimes that last one is cool, but I’m a pervert. So…… anyways, she suggests the idea of adoption, because as I mentioned earlier she is only 100lbs, and she doesn’t want to ruin her “perfect” (by trivial American standards) body. After I recover from my shock of having actually picked someone as shallow as me, Praise the Lord, I start thinking about what I actually know about adoption.

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Someone made me watch this for St. Patrick’s day.

I’ve had it in my head all day as a result.

I now pass it on to you.

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A note from the author:

SKIPPY just as a warning I was drinking while writing this so you may want to proof read and maybe edit for grammar.

A note from skippy:

You know what?  No.  I’ve had a bad day, and I don’t want to mess with it.  It’s going up as is.  Everybody, feel free to mock his grammar.
I often have random thoughts. Like why did the Red Shirts always have to die on the original Star Trek? Why couldn’t they have their day in the sun? Why can’t they get some love? Or better yet why can’t they get some revenge?

Then I thought about all those dead red shirts. What happens to their bodies? Do they just get left where they die? Or do they get beamed up to the Enterprise and put into some sort of morgue?

Here’s the scenario Kirk Spock McCoy and ensign Ricky are beaming down to the planet everything is going fine until ensign Ricky scratches his arm on some strange plant. After a few minutes he starts coughing and acting feint. Then a giant monster appears and with one swipe of its claws sends poor little Ricky flying against a rock wall. With his head bashed in Ricky’s body falls limp to the ground blood pouring out of his wounds.

Meanwhile Kirk is shooting the creature with his phaser and doing summersaults for no apparent reason. Spock is coming up with a cunning well thought out plan to kill the creature. And McCoy is running around franticly shouting, “Damn it Jim I’m a doctor not an exterminator!”

Then after a long and climactic battle of wits and brawn they kill the creature and return to the ship and discuss what they learned. But in the bowels of the ship (or wherever the hell the transporters are) Scotty beams up the mangled corpse of poor ensign Ricky and brings it to the morgue and leaves him in his new home cryogenic chamber number 734. His duty done Scotty heads to the bridge to partake in the lessons learned from today’s adventure, which his fat ass once again didn’t get to go on (again).

But unbeknownst to the rest of the crew poor little Ricky had before his death picked up a yet undiscovered microbe that when introduced to a living creature causes a sickness that is similar to the flu and easily recovered from. But when introduced to a corpse that is in the early stages of decomposition, it feeds on the body infesting every last cell heating and reanimating them.

As his body sat there in his cold forgotten tomb the spores released from his mangled body finding new homes in the hundreds of other deceased in the morgue. Many levels above and far forward in the ship the officers are enjoying a nice relaxing drink reminiscing. Regaling each other with tales of their youths. When all of a sudden the computer automatically sounds red alert.

Kirk confused and outraged that he didn’t get to get to say “Red Alert” demands that the computer tell him who ordered the red alert. To which the computer replies that it sounded the alert in response to a biological crisis occurring in the morgue. Upon hearing this Dr McCoy demanded to know what kind of “biological crisis” could possibly be occurring in the morgue! The computer gave only one word in response “ZOMBIES”          Once the crew had gotten over the shock that there were real zombies on the ship, they began to panic. All except for Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scotty, Sulu, Chekov, Uhura,. These few crew members stand alone against the onslaught of the REDSHIRT ZOMBIES!

Sulu for some unknown reason runs to his cabin and grabs his rapier to fight the undead red shirts. When he sees just what Sulu plans on fighting with Kirk grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him as he says, “Sulu… are you… mad? You need a… sword capable of cutting off their heads!… Whereas  that…… rapier is only… good for stabbing and giving small… cuts! Put that away and….. take this.. Katana!”. Sulu takes the Katana and immediately starts dismembering zombies. In the meantime only feet away Spock is using some sort of ancient Vulcan hand-to-hand zombie fighting techniques and snapping their necks. And the rest of the group is doing the smart thing and blasting zombie heads with their trusty phasers.

After hours of exhausting combat and the loss of no living crew members (or at least nobody worth mentioning) all the zombies have been dispatched and shoved out of air locks. Once things have calmed down Kirk considers making a report on the incident but decides that it nobody would believe him and only sends a recommendation to Starfleet that in the future all members of Starfleet that die while away from their home world should be given a burial at space.

And this is why Spock was ejected into space, and we all know what happened to him don’t we. He became a fricken zombie! Albeit a rather well behaved zombie, but he was a reanimated corpse nonetheless.

I’m sorry this sort of turned into a bit of a fan fic/psychotic rant. I guess that I shouldn’t have written this while drinking but I just cant write while sober.

Stickfodder had a web-comic here, that he would probably like you to look at.

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(Submitted by Anonymous)

1: It is perfectly legal to call the MP’s to escort your platoon SGT away from your off post residence if he shows up for a surprise inspection at 9 PM while you are on leave.

2: While your spouse is a civilian and technically allowed to talk to the post commander if she wants to, its not recommended to use this to solve pay issues.

3: Even if you have tried for 6 months to get it fixed through your chain of command and the military owes you over 3 grand.

4: “Take control of your spouse” is not a lawful order.

5: You are not authorized to send emails to the G-6 in “leet speak”

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The Shoe Shouldn’t Have Dressed Like A Slut

Scroll Down And Read The Comments (Thank you Danielle)

Saturday Morning Watchmen (Thank you Tom)

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I would love to see this commercial.

A child comes in from playing outside and is covered in dirt, mud, and grass stains. Instead of quietly smirking and shaking her head, the mom becomes irate and starts screaming at the child about getting his good school clothes dirty. She says that “shout” had better get these stains out or else dad will be using his belt when he gets home.

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The Winner is Lord Enigma who suggested list item 198. Not allowed to lead a “Coup” during training missions.

At first I wasn’t sure if I should tell this story here.  I’ve always had a policy of not telling telling any stories that could easily be traced back to people who might reasonably still be in service.  And I definitely don’t want to tell any stories that might implicate someone in some sort of extra-legal shenanigans. (Which is, coincidentally, why many of the submitted stories don’t go up on the site.  I don’t care how funny you think the felony assault turned out. I don’t want to get involved.)

But I did promise that I would tell the whichever story got the most votes.  And this one was the clear winner.

So here it goes.  In Script Format.

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My grandfather died when I was in Kindergarten. I don’t remember much about him – all I really knew was that he was active in his church and held down three jobs at the young age of 76 when he died.

When I was much older, I asked my mom a few questions about my grandfather. I had known that he was a Newark Police Officer for around 30 years and that he worked in the police credit union. I was surprised to hear that he served in the Coast Guard during World War II and drove landing boats during D-Day.

As far as I knew, only one other person in my extended family had served (as a chopper gunner in ‘nam) – I genuinely had no idea that my grandpa fought in WW2. My mom produced pictures showing him in uniform and pointed to the frame full of medals on the wall. (I still can’t believe that I never figured that out.) My dad came in about halfway through the conversation and wanted to relate a story to me about my grandpa’s time as a police officer.

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(Submitted by Dave Snow)

• You may not tattoo your rank onto your “private part” and tell your commander to go ahead and pull rank on you.

(Submitted by Jennie)

• Do not send newbs after 40 ft of flightline (they will wander for hours through the squadron looking for it, only to be told by the CMC that there is no such thing and then will be asked who sent them after it …)
• The large hole in the tail of an S3 Viking is not your personal “pleasure hole,” even if it’s 3am and you’re bored with rover watch (wasn’t me, but a guy in our shop)
• The gigline is part of your uniform, not some bit of string that you need to go find and I should not sent newbs after such fictional items…
• Dehydrating oneself to the point of vomiting and then showing up @ sick bay the next morning is not wise … especially if you’re underage and there’s a bottle of whiskey in your fridge when Chief shows up to do an inspection …
• Broken middle finger does NOT give you a license to flip off the officers … even if they can’t tell the difference.
• If I tackle you because you walked in front of a turning engine, you cannot have me NJP’d for assaulting an officer …
• Telling your POFC that you were late because you were getting some really great ass is not an excuse for being late …
• Wandering onto the flight line complete delirious and hopped up on monster is not wise … especially when it’s your bird getting ready to go … and you’ve got 10 minutes to complete the full pre-flight inspection

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Many years ago, I got to spend about six months living in tents in the Kosovo region.  Now, there are many many reasons why living in a large communal tent for six months isn’t much fun.  And one of the more annoying reasons is vermin.

See, our camp was located in what used to be a great big field.  And in the great big field there lived a great many mice.  Resourceful mice, with a taste for MRE’s, and a rather impressive set of rappelling gear, based on the places that they were able to get into.

At one point we had some candy stuck an large decorative tin can, on top of a television, on top of a plastic storage bin.  So this is a good four feet off of the ground, with every surface made of smooth plastic or metal.  And mice still got in.  I figure they were lowering themselves down from the roof, with some elaborate pulley system, like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible.

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