Greetings to all the Droogs and Droogettes out there from Big Country’s Home for Wayward Veterans and Pet Depository. Happy New Year or Merry New Whatever….
“Beef Jerky Time!!!”
Ahhhh… a great movie from a time that we’ll not see again anytime soon… it had a great plot, zero politics, and Jamie Lee Curtiss flashing her tits… (broad had great cans… what else can you say?)
Amateur Hour is on us… those of us who are -real drinkers- meaning those of us who sit down and kill a liter of 80 proof in one sitting, pass out, and then get up the next day and function… you know, a fuckin’ lush… a drunk… a soldier/marine… ‘cept us soldiers don’t usually eat the crayon garnish… jes’ sayin’..
The Marine Corps. New Energy Drink
Yeah… I avoid going out tonight… The Ole Lady wants me to Uber, as I need the $$$ but I’ll pass… the whole ‘possibly going to jail’ thing sours the idea of the night… “going to jail” you ask? Whelp… not for D.U.I. thats for sure, but for probably beating an asshole to death if they bark in my brand-new ride… I mean I’ve had it –only– a month… so I do not want some stewed loser dumping guts in the back seat… and if he/she did, I’d have to lump ’em up with my hajji-beater I keep in the front seat for those asocial types I seem to be running into a lot of lately.
Yeah.. a souvenir from Baghdad… couple of my Cav guys in 1/8 gave me a really nice military grade/issue ASP baton… 22 inches of lethality… not one of those Coparoach Hollow-Tube beaters, but a solid tube-with-titanium-tip-and-end-cap (leastways thats what it said on the instructions when I got it)… this fucker is like the real deal and I’ve used it numerous times to inflict serious injury on some peoples… one in particular was an Iraqi National Guardsman who -tried- to rob me at a checkpoint… fucker wanted my wallet and watch… his attitude was “I’ve got the gun, what ya gonna do?” and as soon as he was distracted, I snapped it (the baton) open, snatched the rifle from him and beat his Head/K-Pot with, shall we say great enthusiasm so much that the K-Pot fractured like into fucking pieces… no shit… The ING was equipped back in the day with surplus K-Pots that were boo-coup old… when I saw his rifle was on safe, and he was holding it by the butt and not the grip, I figured I had a better than 70% chance of jerking it outta his hands and beating him down like a bitch…
Musta worked ’cause I’m here tellin y’all about it… I left him sorry and sore and handcuffed to a jersey barrier…
So I ride with it as a backup… can’t carry legally until July… damn the X-Cunt…
I’ve actually had to ‘flash’ it once so far this season… yeah… the Whole “Christmas Seasonal” thing, people were really amped up it appeared… I had MULTIPLE instances where fucktards either threatened me, challenged me, or jumped out of the car to ‘kick my ass up around my ears!’
One of those cases the guy jumped out of the car in front of me (for the offense of honking at him and yelling “Asshole!” out the window when he cut me off…), came at me yelling “You want some of this!?!?!” To which I gleefully and excitedly leaped out of my car, baton in hand, and screamed “Why yes, YES! I! DO!” as I unsnapped the baton with it’s ‘hiiiiss-CLICK!’ I was grinning like a fool truth be told… I was just sooooo worn out with being ‘polite’ and ‘tolerant’ and in my eyes, God had given me an early Christmas Gift in the form of a douchecanoe that I could finally vent ALL my frustrations and anger out on….
Dude musta seen the look of intent, nay GLEE in my eye ‘cos he screeched to a halt, practically falling over himself and ran back to the car with a look of primal terror on his face. Fucker prolly done shit hisself…
Me? I was sorta bummed… sort of like a “I almost got laid” letdown. Good Christ, I really wanted that kid to initiate so I could disassemble that fucking loudmouth punk-bitch…
Everybody’s a keyboard warrior I swear…
So Happy New Years Gang… Tonight’s Safety Brief:
Don’t Drink and Drive
Don’t Do Dudes Wives
Don’t Do Dudes
Don’t Do (too many) Drugs
Don’t Run w/Scissors
Don’t Interrupt any Cute Broads Scissoring
All the best, catch y’all inna bit
I Remain, The Intrepid Reporter