Are You Fucking Kidding Me? Does This War Actually Need Hall Monitors?...

What’s the word for aggravating large numbers of people with your writing? Someone find me that word! Because very soon, I am going to need that word!

Anyway, so here I sit, listening to the Reverend Horton Heat, and his classic, “Where In The Hell Did You Go With My Toothbrush.” My all time favorite break up song, that and I am contemplating watching Romeo & Juliet when I am done with this. I suppose that means I am in a somewhat tragic mood.

Why? Because I just talked to my platoon leader and he told us that starting tomorrow we have to work 4 hour shifts doing that L&O shit that I told you about in the last post. Here’s the best part of this though. This FOB is not slated to have MP’s, we just kind of showed up on our way someplace else. So there are no police cars, there are no radar guns, there are no sirens, no lights, none of that nifty cop bullshit. Which begs the question, what the hell are we going to do? We are going to drive around in 1151’s (the same humvees that everyone else drives around, like when we expect someone to try and blow us up, or launch an RPG up our ass, or pepper us with 7.62 rounds.), and I guess we are just going to yell out the window or the turret at them. “Hey pull over asshole!” Which will promptly be followed by a middle finger out the window of the offending vehicle to which we will respond, “Hey, I am a real MP you can’t do that to me!”

This is why I hate most cops. We already got a few guys that heard about this and got a hard on about it. Oh boy, I get to go out there and show everyone what a stud I am, and how they have to do what I tell them. You know, the kind of little Napoleon’s that got abused in high school so they figured they would become cops to get back at everyone who ever pissed in their Cheerios. Yeah, those guys. The MP Corps, probably just like the real world coppers has a few distinct groups.

First group, The Barney Fife’s, you know the type some hillbilly that joined the military and became a cop. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, nor does he want to get into fights or anything like that. These guys don’t particularly bother me, except when I needed them in a bar fight or something they were usually hiding behind their car doors. Other than that, they aren’t bad, just a bit naive.

Second group, the Robocops or Little Napoleons. Easily the most dangerous and the most annoying all at once. These are the guys that go into every situation like they run the world. These are the guys who would talk to a kid like a convict. These are the guys who can’t even dress themselves without a regulation. They can escalate any situation just by showing up. They especially are dangerous when the situation in question involves a subject of the same gender who is either larger, and/or better looking. They tend to take their insecurities out on people on the job. I hate these motherfuckers with a passion. These are your abused children. These are your 40 year old adolescents who still have to prove what a man they are.

Third group, Those of us who don’t think much of the whole power thing. Those of us who feel kind of hypocritical arresting or even accosting someone for doing the same shit that we do everyday. In my case, for the most part I was like this. The bar fights were fun for me, just because I do enjoy a good dust up.

Now, most guys fall into the last group. However, we do have a few who fall into the first two and these are the ones that are going to get us into some shit over these next few days or weeks however long they have us do this shit.

Personally, I am not going to do a damn thing. If you honestly think I am going to give a soldier in Afghanistan a speeding ticket you got another thing coming. However, I will take every opportunity I get to fuck with the war-profiteering contractors. Yep, that’ll be fun.

The only problem is that the Barney Fife’s won’t be ready for this shit, and I can almost guarantee that the Robocops will cause some shit. Anyone agree?

But the question has still got to be answered. Does a war actually need hall monitors? Soldiers have enough shit to worry about without having to deal with some dickbag MP with a Napoleon complex breaking his balls because he isn’t wearing his uniform correctly.

I don’t know who thought of this shit or who volunteered us for it, but I’ve got a pretty good idea. And you aren’t going to believe what we are doing. However long we are here, we are going to be in charge of “Safety, and enforcing military standards.” What in the hell does that mean? We are going to be the pricks catching people shitting where they aren’t supposed to. We are going to be the ones yelling at them for not wearing those damn reflective belts I told you about in the last post. We are going to stop them when they drive too fast. We are going to fill out our little reports when someone loses and iPod and says that somebody stole it. We are going to bust all the guys who are in the female barracks after 2000. Which really makes me laugh, if the females didn’t want them there they would kick them out! Who am I to stop someone else from grabbing a piece of ass in this hell hole? Hey, I admit it, I’m a little jealous that he’s getting a piece and I’m not! I have just slipped from the level of combat MP. A respectable position in life if I do say so myself. To that of a fucking hall monitor! Sometimes I truly hate the Army.

Its not so much the fact that this work has to be done that bothers me. Its the fact that I have to do it. I don’t want to sit around here and do this shit. I want to get out there and have some fun. I want to move again. I want to do something that actually has some effect, however small, on this war. What do I get? I get a military that doesn’t know what to do with us for a couple of weeks so they make this shit up! That, and we were told that eventually we are still moving on to somewhere else to do another mission. An actual combat mission. So basically, we are going to do this shit for a couple weeks and then we are going to stop. Doesn’t that seem a little counterproductive? We’ll enforce the standards and safety for a little while, we’ll monitor your halls for a couple weeks, then you all can go back to whatever you were doing before. Have a good day!

So moving on to something funny. There are very few things that I find as humorous as the stall walls in military shitters. You know, the quirky little sayings, the random jokes, and the homosexual jokes written in broken english. Is anyone surprised that the gay jokes are written by semi-illiterate idiots? If they had any brains at all they would’ve found out what a wonderful thing gay guys are for straight guys. But I digress. Now normally, none of these stick in my mind. Its just a good time killer to have while I am dropping a deuce. Today, however I found a couple of gems. And here for your reading pleasure they are...if I feel an explanation is needed, I provided one. I also provided my own review of each.

#1 Here I sit.
Cheeks a flexin.
Trying to birth.
Another Texan.

Review: Clear, concise, and to the point. Rhyme scheme works well. Bonus: Insulting a state that I truly despise!

#2 Here I sit.
On The Crapper.
Trying to birth.
Another Sapper.

Explanation: A “Sapper” is a military engineer with an additional skill identifier. A Sapper is a guy who goes out and blows up enemy assets. He “saps” enemy strength and viability with explosives.

Review: Again, clear, concise and to the point. Rhyme scheme works well. (Probably the same author, and probably a Ranger.) Bonus: Insults guys from a military job that is here with me, so I can use this little poem to piss them off!

Now the part that really sucks is that now, with this new mission we have, I would have to write this guy up for writing on the bathroom walls, as opposed to what I would really like to do. Which is congratulate him for his cleverness, and offer a small measure of praise for filling my day with a little more humor. Now I have to fucking tattle on him!

Anyway, there isn’t a whole lot else going on. This mission begins at 0700 hrs tomorrow morning. Stay tuned for how this debacle pans out. This ought to be good, or at least funny.

Later,

I love you Mom...