Archive for the ‘LT Ronald’ Category

Let me tell you a little bit about my old HHC commander. He was by all means a Renaissance Man, a Tom Hanks from Saving Private Ryan type character, but his unfortunate lot in life was not to command Rangers, but to command an HHC (Headquarters and Headquarters Company), usually full of staff officers and NCO’s and some support people.

In order to preserve his own sense of honor, to lead by example, and to keep from getting bored he would volunteer to do just about anything to get outside the wire, no matter how dangerous the mission. He would harass me about missions, and remind me every time that I had an open position on a dangerous mission that he was available.

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You know how some kids have imaginary friends? They are their best friends in the world who they communicate with, and are almost real for them.

My 7 year-old daughter, who you may or may not remember told off a hot woman who was hitting on me, does not have imaginary friends.

She has an imaginary corporation, with imaginary stock holders, an imaginary board of directors, of which she is the CEO, and a janitorial staff, who is contracted through a temp agency of course.

I found out about her corporate undertakings when walking past her room last weekend and overheard her yelling at her assistant over an old bluetooth earpiece. She finished her imaginary conversation with, “if this merger fails to go through, so help me God, I will fire you and have the daycare center withhold your children from you.” I’m not sure what impresses me more, her ruthlessness or that her imaginary corporate offices has an imaginary daycare center.

I asked her about her company and she read me her mission statement (She didn’t know what the hell a mission statement was, but she had one). She then went on to explain to me about the ethical dilemma that she was having with her IT guy, Bill, because he’s an alcoholic, with whom she’s smelled booze on his breath on more than one occasion, but he works for peanuts and is very competent. She said that she was okay with overlooking it, but lately he’s been hitting on her up-and-coming protege, Emily, and Emily isn’t very receptive to this sort of treatment.

My sweet daughter went on to tell me that she has taken to hiring a former Superbowl player, whose name she cannot release at this time due to contractual obligations, to do motivational speaking for her company.

She doesn’t watch adult TV shows, she has limited use of the internet, and I have no idea where the heck she comes up with this stuff, except that I was the same damn way when I was 7, and I’ve only been a two weekend a month, every other holiday and 60% of the summertime dad, when not deployed. Her mother has no clue either, and her dumbass couldn’t cultivate this in our daughter, so this is, in addition to being pretty funny, wierd as hell.

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Went off to Vegas last month, it was quite a blast, but I have come to realize that there is a new list of things that I am no longer allowed to do in Vegas.

1. Cannot hit on Kirsten Dunst.

2. Even if my girlfriend says “I’d fuck her”.

3. Because her bodyguards are rude (she totally wanted it).

4. Kirsten Dunst’s bodyguards don’t care if what happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas.

Cannot tell the people trying to hassle you to buy tickets on the streets:

5. No I would not like any, but here, have a hooker calling card.

6. I’m Samuel L. Jackson, do I look like I want to go to a motherfuckin’ show, I AM the motherfuckin’ show, motherfucka.

7. Do you know what I do for a living? No, Loan shark! I break knuckles for a living! Do you still want to bother me?

8. *grab fiance’s arm, and start acting panicky and pointing at them*, (she had been coached by me to ignore them) There is another one, WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THEM, WHY DO THEY TORTURE ME WITH  FREE SHOWSSSS. You’re not real, do you hear me, YOU ARE NOT REAL, STOP LOOKING AT ME!!!!!!!!!

9. *grab fiance’s arm, and start acting retarded and pointing at them*, (she had been coached by me to ignore them) FREE SHOWS YAAAAAAA!!!!, *claps hands* I WANNA SEEEEE WAYNE NEWTON YAAAAAAA!!!! MISS FERGIE CAN I SEE FREE SHOWS, I WANNA SEE CARROT TOP YAAAAAAA!!!! *claps hands*

10. Only authorized to tell the “free show” people that I am a local, which makes them leave you alone quick.

11. It is not customary to tip dealers with airline peanuts, even if you saved her half the bag.

12. If the guys from the Spin Doctors sit down at my Holdem Table again, I am to walk away.

13.  “Wait I’m gonna take their stacks, its the least I can do after them turning me into a dork in high school” will be thrown back in your face by your fiance as you walk away 2 grand poorer.

14. I am not Danny Ocean, and the broom closet in the Bellagio is not where Benedict’s goons beat me up.

15. I am not to tell random women that I am a famous hockey player, and take on a fake Canadian accent.

16. Not allowed to tip cocktail waitresses with Command Sergeant Major Coins (was actually an accident).

17. Not allowed to split 10s against a dealer shown six again. Even if I win 75$ because I took the cards that would cause the dealer to bust, and the dealer beat everyone else. My own Grandma called me an asshole for that one.

18. Not allowed to blow on people’s craps dice without their permission.

19. I am not Kenny Rodgers, nor should I start singing “you’ve got to know when to hold them, Know when to fold them etc.” while sitting in the poker room. This really pisses off the locals.

20. I am not Matt Damon in Rounders, when asked if I really had it on a head-to-head fold I should not say, “I’m sorry JOHN, I don’t remember”.

21. On the flight home I cannot tell my Fiance, after proposing in Vegas, that “what happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas, now give me the ring back.”

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By LT Ronald

After reading Michiel’s post saying goodbye to President Bush, I felt obliged to add a welcome to President Elect Obama.  It should be noted that views expressed here do not reflect those of Skippy.

This country is done.

I will watch now as the treasury grows fat with over taxation, and limited use of the military. I will watch my job deteriorate and will probably watch it get cut.

The masses will be happy, oh so happy, as more money flows into their pockets as I work to give them that money that our new president will surely pluck from my pockets, and my hard working family’s pockets and redistribute to the stupid, lazy, and unlucky. Say good bye to your stimulus checks! They are now going to the welfare recipients and illegal aliens.

At least with the undoubtedly Pro-Murder justices that will be named to the supreme court we hopefully wont have to worry about as many stupid/lazy fucks, because it will become legal in all states for everyone to shove a pair of scissors in the heads of partially born crack babies and vacuum their crack-baby brains out with a saw filled vacuum. Chances are that teenage pregnancies can also go down because parents of these teenagers won’t know that little Suzy went down and committed murder in order to fit properly in her prom dress because she couldn’t just take it up the ass like a good little whore.

I should just shoot myself in the head now, but what good will that do, I won’t be able to own a gun soon anyway, and even if I did die, under Obama I’d lose 50% or higher of my estate, which I’ve already been taxed on once by my benevolent government.

Soon Iran and Korea will have nuclear weapons, of course after our new president has made pinky-swear promises that they will stop trying to make them if we leave Iraq and Afghanistan, and stand idly by while they obliterate Israel. Maybe fuel prices will go down more that way. Now I feel better…. shit; can’t afford a car no more, they downsized the military and now I’m out of a job. Hmmmm, I wonder if Iran could use another ammunition expert. I’m sure that the Taliban does, with us not chasing down Osama any more business should be “BOOMING”. (couldn’t help myself) Stupid fucking outsourcing of jobs.

The American way used to be about working hard and earning a living. If you were extra hard working and maybe a little lucky you would do more than earn a living, but be able to pass on some extra to your family, and if they followed suit you could raise your family to a very affluent state. Unfortunately that way of living is past, and we find that socialism is on its way back in, and why not? Working hard and MAYBE getting lucky and becoming affluent wasn’t really fair to those who didn’t get lucky anyway, and was really unfair to those who didn’t work hard, if at all, in the first place.

Soon those injustices will be righted, and everyone will get lucky because even if they didn’t work hard or get lucky those who did will just give them the fruits of their labors, and we will all be happy.

God bless America. Our collective IQ has dropped to the point where we have voted in a socialist, terrorist, who subscribes to an anti-American religious leader as president. Freedom has finally given us the end of us. Time to just sit back and watch the end of the show.

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Bitch cheated on me while I was deployed. It sucks, but oh well, life goes on. It’s been two years now. I have a beautiful girlfriend, who, if she signs the pre-nup will become my beautiful fiance. (Screw me once shame on you, screw me twice shame on me).

If there is two things that my cheating succubus gave me, aside from less than savory credit and an ample distrust of the opposite sex, is two wonderful precocious children. About 8 months after the split I was enjoying some quality time with my children at a waterpark. While on the lazy river with my 6 year old daughter, two beautiful young women engaged me in conversation.

My daughter, who wasn’t completely cool with dad talking to pretty young women, decided to have her say and made a sassy comment to one of the women. I just shook my head and said “she’s just like her mother.” My daughter quickly corrected me with: “DAD, I am not just like mom, I’m not tired of putting up with your crap yet.”

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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.

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It’s been a while since I last posted anything. I’d like to give you all a good reason, but I just don’t have one. Football season is starting, and keeping up with the NFL and Fantasy Football has kept me busy.

I have various little witty sayings that I have picked up over the years, such as when someone drops something I’ll say, “Just throw that anywhere.” Or when I have a situation handled and someone mentions to me to be prepared to handle said situation I’ll say: “I’m on it, like flies to the things flies fly to.”

One of my sayings when leaving to go somewhere is “Let’s head out like a fetus.”

My 9 year old son came up with one the other day that had me in stitches (on the inside)

We were going into my brother’s house and my son, the great mimic that he is, said “let’s head out like a fetus”, I explained to him that we were heading in, so that saying wasn’t accurate, so without missing a beat he says, “we’ll then, let’s head in like a gay man.”

Here’s a few new one’s that I’ve added to my stand-up routine,

1. I can’t do the two guy one girl three-way. I’m always afraid of crossing swords, and that’s just a little too gay for me. So, much to my chagrin, I’ve realized that means no more Letter “H-ing” midgets, the dicks still touch somewhere in the middle.

2. Did you know that every year there are over a million battered women in the United States? And to think, I’ve been eating mine plain all this time.

3. I have this cousin who is always in trouble with the law. He had to get a waiver to even enlist in the military, then was thrown out in AIT for pissing hot. I see him every Christmas and at family reunions (when he’s not incarcerated or I’m not deployed). Every time I see him he has a new scheme or less than savory money-making endeavor that he is trying out. This last family reunion he shows up with a bunch of new tattoos, and tells me that he’s tattooing for a living now, and working part time for a loan shark. As he’s leaving the reunion I say, “bye, and stay out of trouble, and if you can’t stay out of trouble I have a great idea for your next tattoo: “HIV Positive” right above your asshole, might help you out next time you’re in the joint”.

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I graduated high school at the age of 17 and had my heart set on a service academy. West Point or Air Force, however I didn’t take into account that just meeting the minimum 1200 on the SATs would not guarantee me acceptance. It didn’t.

I still wanted to get away from mom and dad and not have them hold college tuition over my head to control my behaviors. So I took a scholarship to Georgia Military College, and went there with the intent to enjoy the southern belles, and introduce them to a whole new brand of Man-whore, yankee style.

I enjoyed a few lovely belles my first year there, but was smitten with the local preacher’s daughter who would go out with me, but not give in to my amorous advances. This girl was beautiful, but beyond that she was unlike any other girl I had seen. She would wash and wax my car, she would wash and iron my clothes and uniforms to include my underwear, she would cook me the best dinners, back rubs and foot massages were routine, because she enjoyed taking care of her man, and I was even allowed to spend nights at her house on weekends (though on the couch).

The sexual tension was insane, she was after all a repressed southern baptist preacher’s daughter. After a few months she told me that she wanted to give me whatever I wanted, but that I had to be “clean” for her and therefor I had to get myself tested for STDs. I figured that was probably a pretty good idea considering that I had been pretty active the previous year, and I was willing to do whatever necessary to get with this girl.

The next week I showed up at the free clinic, paid my 15$, and was led through a few stations by a very striking young nurse. I made it a point to flirt with this lady throughout the testing. She drew my blood, had me pee in a cup, and then took me into a private room and told me to drop my drawers. Being only 18, I had no idea what was in store for me, but judging by all of the smuggled pornographic movies that I had seen as a teenager I thought that I did.

I dropped my drawers, put my hands on my hips, gave her a wink, and said in my best Joey Tribbiani impersonation “How you doin?” She smiled and dropped to her knees. She gently grasped my manhood, looked up at me with the loveliest doe eyes, and quickly shoved a triple sized, spiraled, metal Q-tip up the head of my penis, and yanked it out just as quick.

As I looked down at her (now clinging to the ceiling tiles with my finger and toe nails like a cat) she gave me a wink and said in her best Joey Tribbiani impersonation “How you Doin?”

I now know why when people are faced with the possibility of doing something unpleasant that they say “I’d rather be tested for the clap”.

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No shit there I was, Ramadi, Iraq. We got the call for additional support from one of our OPs (observation posts). My outfit was on the hook to lead EOD to outpost in case of need.

Just south of our outpost was a section of palm trees and reeds (along the banks of the Euphrates river). We had taken small arms, mortar, and RPG fire from that area in the past. We had taken to posting signs in that area that stated locals were not allowed there and could be shot on sight.

On this particular afternoon there was an Iraqi Military Aged Male (MAM) walking through the reeds of “no-mans land”. The OP tried to get the MAM to come to the OP through their loudspeaker, but the MAM wouldn’t come closer and he wouldn’t leave. So the SFC on site raised his M4 and shot the MAM in the side. The MAM then laid down just on the outskirts of reeds.

With EOD now on site, and our outfit also having robots, we sent our robots out to inspect the MAM, to insure that he was not strapped with explosives. When the robots got to the MAM he got up and started kicking them. We brought our robots back to keep them from getting damaged.

The next thing that we did was take EOD’s IED clearing/blast-proof vehicle: The Buffalo (they had one in the film Transformers) and we proceeded to put a large stick in the Buffalo’s retractable arm, so as to lift up the MAM’s man-skirt and see if he was packing explosives. When the Buffalo got to the man and started to lift his skirt the MAM got up, took the stick off of the Buffalo and started beating the Buffalo with the stick.

My First sergeant, who you may or may not remember from the Backscratcher story, suggested that we set up a Pop and Drop (A block of C-4 primed with a remote detonated electronic blasting cap) and have the robot lay it down by the MAM. As the SFC on site started to set up the Pop and Drop, our gunner Young Specialist Janelle started yelling, “I don’t think that’s legal, I don’t think that’s legal”, and therefore Top dropped that idea.

That is when the young E-5 EOD tech said, “this guy ain’t packing, I’m gonna drag his ass back here before he bleeds out.” Before any one could stop him he ran at the MAM, the MAM got up and started to run, The EOD tech tackled him, and subdued him.

Upon closer inspection it turned out that the MAM was Corky from Life Goes On retarded.

The SIGACT the following day read “The ___ Engineers shot a MAM around OP ___. The ___ EN and ___ EOD sent robots to check on the MAM’s status, the MAM fought off the robots. The ___ EOD sent their buffalo to check the MAM’s status, the MAM beat the Buffalo with a stick. The ___ EOD tackled and subdued the MAM. The MAM was questioned, treated, and released.”

This poor retarded bastard was just walking through the reeds and gets yelled at, shot, attacked with robots, poked with a stick from a Buffalo, almost blown to bits, and then tackled.

You just can’t make this shit up.

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This story was related to me by one of my NCO’s, and as such I felt obliged to share it with you all. As told to me by SGT S.

No shit there I was, Fort Benning, Georgia 1990-something. My buddies and I were reading through our various sources of adult entertainment when we came along the topic of Penis Pumps. As it turned out, none of us had ever tried one, and after reading about how well they worked to increase the size of our man-parts, my squad made a pact to buy one for each of us.

Later that month 12 pumps arrived, and the only sounds one could hear late at night was akin to 12 bicycle tires being pumped manually.

Only one week later our brand new First Sergeant joined our outfit, and of course he was set to inspect the barracks. I was first to be inspected, and upon finding my manhood enhancer he got hot. “I know what this is, we had these in Nam! You are in some serious trouble! Though this one is kinda strange? Where do you inhale out of?”

That is when my LT stepped in, “Um, Top. That’s not a bong? That’s SGT S’s Penis pump?” Top got a disgusted look on his face and threw my pump across the room. Upon inspecting the rest of my squad mates and finding another, and yet another, Top put his hands on his hips and announced that “I must have the most well hung squad on this post, you buncha sick bastards.”

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