They Said It Better Than I Ever Could...

These words that I write, they keep me from total insanity. -Charles Bukowski

Who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived, or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed? -Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

Nov 3, 2008

A Line Of Angry, Smelly Joes Walks Into A Bar...

and doesn't get to drink a damn thing. That is what I am currently contending with. Lot's of fun. Everyone here is smelling like an anchovie's asshole due to the fact that the locals who clean the bathrooms choose the most inopportune times to clean them. As soon as everyone is awake and as soon as everyone wants to go to bed they decide that those are the times they are going to spend an hour disinfecting our bathing areas. Oh Joy. So I figured I would come down here and write about my hygiene misadventures and blow off a little steam.

And as far as the bar thing and drinking goes, we are on an Air Force base. The Air Force is notorious for treating their people well. The Army and the Marines will always insist that they coddle their people and treat them like little furry teddy bears, which to a point may be true. But those of us on the receiving end of Army bullshit tend to believe that the Air Force simply treats their people like...well people. Which is a totally foreign idea to anything green. So it goes. So the bar works like this, the Air Force guys can pretty much drink as much as they want. The signs say two beers per day, but if the state of inebriation that I saw that airman in last night was any indication apparently there are ways around that little rule. But the wonderful Army does not allow us to imbibe any alcoholic beverages of any kind. So we just get to sit there and watch the Air Force guys have all the fun. That and the Air Force has always had the hottest chicks. Once again, so it goes. I had a one if four shot of picking the right one when I enlisted and I lost that little lottery.

I at least got to spend all of yesterday basically jacking around and looking at all the nifty little local shops that have set themselves up here on post and are selling GI's the usual fare for entirely too much cash, and it makes me laugh that regardless of how bad our economy is they all still want American money. Interesting.

Well that being said, we are another day closer. We finally got notified of when we were actually going to be in country and that is depressing. I would tell you, but of course then I would have to kill you, and given the fact that apparently I have a reader in Siberia I don't want to have to burn all that money on cab fare, I'll just keep it to myself.

This morning we got a wonderful talk from our platoon sergeant about getting our minds right for the battle we are about to join. At the beginning it was a good talk, you know. He covered things like training and keeping on top of your weapons and keeping yourself clean and what not. But then he went off the deep end. He started telling us that we should begin the practice of taking "battle shits"

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I was advised this morning by a man charged with leading an entire platoon into battle, that I should make sure to force a movement prior to any mission with likely enemy contact. Really? Military leaders throughout history have been making inspiring speeches to their men in order to motivate them to face the most terrifying situations and the most harrowing odds and overcome all of that. What do I get? "Battle Shit" You have got to be fucking kidding me. I just sat outside, where it is balls cold, and listened to my platoon sergeant espouse the merits of the pre-battle bowel movement! Now I could go on forever about this, but am I the only one who would think that a leader would have better things to think about than the condition of his troops underwear if they ever were to come into close combat with the enemy. But I digress.

Moving on. I met a guy last night. Probably not the best way for a heterosexual male to begin a sentence but whatever. And this was one of those guys that just makes you feel lazy. Turns out that he is my age. However, instead of being a lowly joe like me, he is a flight surgeon. Which sounds a lot to me like a guy who operates on people while they are flying. Where you find people that can fly who need surgery, I have no idea, nor did I know there were enough of them to need doctors. (Alright, bad joke)

But on top of that he is like a marathon runner and all that sort of shit. I get tired driving past a gym. But whatever, screw that guy. Anyways, people like that who have had the same amount of time on this earth and yet have managed to do that much more than me, just piss me off.

With that I am going to go, Pigpen is getting antsy because his computer will not work, so until next time.


I love you mom...


  1. Mud usual you have described your situation in a manner... well,I almost can see it all... that being said, I'm so glad I don't have scratch-n-sniff on my laptop!
    Sitting in a bar watching others drink? That's just plain wrong!

    Stay Strong!
    Pray Hard!

    ~AirmanMom returning to her blog...

  2. Do you need a case of Febreze? You definetly gave a good discription on your living conditions. How is the food? Stay safe.

  3. The Thunder Run has linked to this post in the blog post From the Front: 11/04/2008 News and Personal dispatches from the front and the home front.

  4. This is the perfect reason why I spent 21 years in the Air Force. I am an Army Brat, and I know how it goes. Any how it gets better,,

  5. Dear Mud Puppy:

    Good to see your postings. I want you to know that my family and I are praying for you each day and will for your entire tour.

    All my best

  6. Gee Mud Puppy sounds like a nice place to go. LOOK at the brights side of it. You don't have a big bar bill when you leave and will remember what you did the next morning.

    Keep your helmet on and your butt close to the ground!


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