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Enlisted Man’s Club Equals Cheap Beer

 1800- Finally, it’s time for liberty call!
I had spent all day immersed in the fascinating work of manually chipping, scraping and sanding the mast.
Off with the old rust and paint, and on with the ‘red lead’. Which was Navy slang for red paint/primer. I assumed it had lead in it. It was an educated guess, mind you, but I think I was correct in that assumption.
Why did we use it? Well, I never thought to ask. Please standbye. I’ll be back in a flash.Okay. I’m back. Fast huh? I found this:

http://www.kellco.com/helpful/help_lead_primer.html

Ooh, scary. Now they tell me. How am I gonna get the lead out?
Don’t ask me why, but I have a hunch it’s not as dangerous as they say.

Be that as it may, now I remember why we used it: because it worked.
There are other sites that explain the chemical composition of red lead, white lead, zinc chromate, etc., drying times vs temp, and other questions you may have about it.

Meanwhile, back at the USS Duluth…
After a shower and change to civvies, not to mention a bit of old spice aftershave, I was ready to go.

“Where are you headed, Ben?” Rick asked,

“I’m goin’ to the club. Still not 21 yet,” I said.

“I know what you mean. Mind if I join you?” Rick asked.

“Sure, as long as you don’t ask me to dance,” I said, laughing.

“No offense, but you’re not my type,” Rick said, chuckling.

“I don’t know if my self esteem can recover from that,” I said, heading for the quarterdeck.

“It’s nothin’ personal,” Rick said, smiling.

“That’s a relief. I feel better already,” I said. “Not to mention, I’m too tired to dance.”

“I hear that. Ice cold beer and good music is all I want,” Rick said.

“Good music?” I asked.

“Yeah. Rock n’ roll, country rock, southern rock, country southern rock…I’m not to partial to disco though,” Rick said, as we made our way off the ship and to the bus stop.

“Long as they don’t play polka,” I said, lighting up a smoke.

“No. I never heard ‘em play polka,” Rick said, lighting up his own smoke.

I was tired, and my muscles were sore as hell, but it was good to get off the ship for awhile. I was sick of all the dust and noise.

“Do you have a bus schedule?” I asked.

“No, but it shows up about every 30-40 minutes. Until 0200 that is,” Rick said.

“Hopefully we don’t have long to wait,” I said, walking faster.

As we approached the bus stop I saw a familiar face. Is that? Yep, it’s Bugeyes!
I hope he’s taking his meds, I thought.

Bugeyes noticed us and jumped up, watching us intently.

“This guy is really weird. I think he’s off his rocker,” Rick said.

“Yeah, we met,” I said, keeping an eye on him. “We got in a little scuffle…well, not really a scuffle. He tried to kick me once, and cried when I stopped him. No one was hurt. The bus driver said he had some mental problems,” I muttered, so Bugeyes wouldn’t hear.

What was his name again? I wondered.

“They’re coming! Watch out! They’re coming for you!” Bugeyes yelled, looking up and back down at us.

“Okaaayyy,” Rick said, as we approached.

“I know you!” Bugeyes exclaimed, pointing at me.

Crap. Now what?

“Uh, hi,” I said, not knowing what to say.

“You are the kung fu master! Will you train me?” Bugeyes asked, bowing his head.

“Well, I’m sort of busy tonight,” I said.

“Kung fu master?” Rick asked, smiling.

“Just one lesson…please?” Bugeyes asked. “I need to be ready. When they return,” whispered Bugeyes, looking around again.

“Who do you mean?” I asked.

“You know, them, sensei,” he said, looking up.

“You mean Angels?” Rick asked.

“Nooo. THEM! The aliens!” Bugeyes yelled, then quickly covered his mouth.

Charlie. His name is Charlie.

“Look, Charlie. Don’t worry,” I said, wondering what to say.

“You’ll fight them, huh? You ain’t scared, sensei,” Charlie said, bowing his head again.

Sheesh! Where’s the bus? I wondered.

“No, I’m not scared. You don’t have to be scared, Charlie,” I said, feeling sorry for the guy.

“But…they hurt me!” Charlie said, looking agitated and scared. “Just one lesson?” He pleaded.

“Maybe he means a gang,” Rick offered.

“Yeah, probably,” I said. “I don’t know what to show him.”

“How about a kick?” Rick asked.

“Alright, Charlie? Yeah, watch me. When you kick, kick low,” I said, demonstrating.

“I can do that. Like this?” Charlie asked, almost falling.

“Yeah, but faster. Practice kicking until you can keep your balance and work on your speed. Make sure you only kick at an enemy. Only someone who hurts you,” I said.

“Thank you, thank you! I will practice, master!” He said, much happier, practicing his kicks.

“Will you teach me master?” Rick asked, bowing.

“Yeah, sure Rick. I’m kinda booked up this week though,” I said, chuckling.

“I used to train. Tae Kwon Do. I never could get past brown belt,” said Rick.

No way! Rick practicing martial arts?

“No doubt you know more than I do,” I said, looking at my watch. “I never studied in a dojo. I just know a few things.”

“I don’t know about that. Hey! There’s the bus,” Rick said.

Charlie kept kicking, oblivious to the bus.

“Um, Charlie? The bus is here,” I said.

“Okay. Thank you,” Charlie said, smiling.

“Your welcome,” I said, getting some change out of my pocket. “Remember, only fight if you have to,” I added.

“Okay. I will, sensei,” Charlie nodded.

We got on the bus, and Charlie followed.

“Good evening Charlie,” the driver said.

“Hi Bill. I’m learning from a master!” Charlie exclaimed pointing at me.

The driver glanced at me. Terrific.

“Learning what Charlie?” The driver asked.

“How to fight!” he said, grinning.

“You remember what Sister Sarah told you?” Bill asked.

“Uhuh, she said to run from fights!” Charlie said.

“That’s right. You run,” Bill said, glaring at me.

Good grief!

“You leave Charlie alone, you hear?” Bill said to me, looking angry.

“What? I didn’t hurt him,” I said.

“I won’t tolerate anyone picking on him on my bus!” Bill exclaimed.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I said.

“Good. I’m glad you understand,” Bill said, leaving the bus stop.

“What’s his problem?” Rick whispered.

“Beats me,” I said. “I think he thinks we were picking on Charlie.”

“But why?” Rick asked.

“I dunno. I guess it has happened before,” I said.

“Do you have a wise saying, sensei?” Charlie asked, turning around to look at me.

Jeez, what do I say?

“Sure Charlie. Treat people like you want to be treated,” I said.

“Thank you sensei!” Charlie said, bowing again.

I wish he would quit calling me that.

Charlie turned around and started repeating what I said, over and over.

“Good one…sensei,” Rick said, smiling.

“Thank’s, grasshopper,” I said, glancing at my watch again.

When the bus stopped we got up to leave.

“I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions,” Bill said, as I passed him.

“No problem. I understand,” I said.

“That was weird,” Rick said.

“That’s an understatement, Rick. How far is the club?” I asked.

“About a 10, 15 minute walk,” he said.

It was a good sized club. Bigger than the one at Damneck, Virginia.
It wasn’t very crowded.

Rick found a clean table. How about here?” He asked.

“Looks good enough for me,” I said, plopping myself down and lighting up.

“The service here sucks, so I’ll go get the first pitcher,” Rick said, walking towards the bar. “Back in a sec..”

“Roger that,” I said, reaching for my wallet.

“First one’s on me,” Rick said, calling back.

I wasn’t going to argue with that. I surveyed the club, spying a lit up dance floor,
with no one dancing, and a big jukebox.
I liked jukeboxes. As long as the music was good, that is.

“Welcome to the hotel California…”

Good tune. I wonder if they serve food here? I thought, as my stomach growled.
I had missed evening chow.

Rick returned with a pitcher full of beer and two glasses. He handed me one after filling it.

“Ahh! That hits the spot!” I exclaimed, after a long drink. It wasn’t bad.
“Do they serve food here?” I asked.

“Yeah. Until 2100 I think,” Rick said. “hold on,” he said, as he walked over to the next table and grabbed a menu.

“Thanks Rick,” I said, looking it over. Prices were kinda steep for my salary.
$5.95 for a steak dinner? But my stomach won out, eventually.

“Are you gettin’ anything?” I asked.

“I’m gettin’ the fried chicken and mashed ‘taters and gravy,” Rick said, entranced by the pictures.

“Or maybe the pork chops and stuffing…” he continued.

“Can I help you?” A woman asked as she approached our table. I figured she was a waitress. Service picked up when ordering food.

“Yes. May I have the sirloin dinner, medium rare, and salad?” I asked.

“Do you want butter or sour creme on that?” She asked.

“Yeah. Butter please,” I said.

“Well aren’t you polite. What will you have sugah?” She asked looking at Rick.

“I’ll have the fried chicken dinner, and the soup please,” Rick said.

“Okey dokey! Do y’all want any dessert? Oh wait. I’m sorry. I’m supposed to ask after you eat your meal,” she said, flustered.

“No need to aopologize,” Rick said. “I’m sure I’ll want dessert if your serving it.”

Rick was flirting, and it looked like the waitress liked him. I looked at the waitresses name tag. Sue.

“Oh, why thank you sugah!” Sue said, with a noticable southern accent.

Rick looked lovestruck. Or close to it anyway.

“Now don’t you go nowhere. I’ll be back in a jiffy!” Sue said. She is energetic, I thought.

“A toast!” I said.

“Huh? What?” Rick asked, staring at Sue.

“A toast! To liberty call!” I said, as we toasted.

“To Sue!” Rick said, grinning ear to ear.

“I think she likes you,” I said.

“Well I sure like her!” Rick said with gusto.

That was obvious, even to me. I wasn’t sure if Sue was being so nice because she liked Rick or if she was always like that.
On the other hand, Rick was sure.

“Do I look alright?” Rick asked, whipping out his comb.

“How would I know?” I replied. “I guess you look okay.”

“What about my hair?” He asked.

“They have mirrors in the head,” I said, drinking some more beer.

“Your a big help,” Rick said.

“Trust me. I’m no Romeo coach,” I said.

“Aww, unlucky in love?” Rick asked.

“Of course not!” I said, too defensively to be convincing.

“It’s cool. I’m no Romeo either,” Rick said.

“All I meant was…let’s just forget it okay?” I asked.

“Right…okay,” he said, raising his glass.

“She’s special,” Rick swooned.

“How do you know? You just met her,” I said.

“I dunno. I just know. She shines, you know?”

Shines? Man, he has it bad.

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it,” I said.

“I’ll be right back,” Rick said, heading for the head.

I lit up another smoke and refilled my glass. I glanced over at the bar and saw Sue talking to some guy. When they kissed, I choked on my beer. Poor Rick! What do I say? Should I say anything? Maybe that’s her brother…nope. Still kissing.
Probably not her brother. A minute later they finally broke it up.

“How do I look now?” Rick asked as he returned.

“Clean,” I said.

“Clean? Clean?” What the hell does that mean?” Rick asked, perplexed.

“It means you aren’t dirty,” I said, laughing.

“I know what it means, I was asking about…”

“Here we go! You had the steak?” I nodded. “And here’s your fried chicken, sugah!” Sue said.

“Thanks Sue!” Rick said, hypnotized.

“My pleasure! You just call if you need anything, okay honey?” She asked, batting her eye lashes.

Damn! I have to tell him! But how? Maybe I should mind my own business. No! Rick was my friend. If I could spare him some pain…

“Rick? Rick? Hey Rick!” I said, getting louder to break the spell.

“Eh? What’s up?” Rick asked, watching Sue.

“I…um..well, you see…I have to warn you!” I exclaimed.

Why was this so hard?

“What do you mean?” Rick asked, still entranced with Sue.

“Damnit Rick! Look at me! This is important!” I said, gathering up the nerve to tell him.

Battle In the Mind!

What is happening? Where am I?

Oh yeah. I was hammered. That thought is extremely funny! Ha ha ha!

I don’t have time for this. There’s something I need to do! Something…on the tip of my thoughts.

But it is hilarious! Ha ha!

Focus! Where is my…center? This feels like a dream. Why is it so hard to think?

I can’t hear anything. I can’t see anything. Why?

Hell if I know. Who cares? Just go to sleep…

I can’t! It feels like I’m falling. I’m falling! That’s it! The mast! I gotta…

I should’ve hit the mast or the deck by now.

That’s odd. My senses aren’t working yet I can think. Very strange…

I gotta…what? Hold…on! Yes!

Too late. I’m falling. So tired. So sleepy.

No! I must fight sleep! I won’t give up! I won’t let go!

“Ben! Ben! Let the hammer go! I got it! Ben!”

Mike? Where are you?

“Geez! He’s got a deathgrip on that hammer. His knuckles are white!”

Rick?

“I got ya Ben. You can let go of the scaffold. Ben? Can you hear me?”

Yep. I hear you. Can you hear me? Where the hell are you?

“How are we gonna get him down?”

“First things first. Let’s wait for Doc before we try to move him, Rick.”

Um, guys? I’m right here. I can hear you.

“Good idea. I wonder when he’ll let go?”

“Ben! You can let go now! We have you!”

You don’t have to shout, Mike! I’m not deaf!

“Crap! His veins are really bulging out! What’s wrong with him?”

Nothin’ wrong with me, Rick. Except, I can’t see.

“Concussion maybe. Could be shock.”

Dammit Mike! I’m an operations specialist, not a doctor! Ha ha!

“Hey Ben. Let go of the hammer. Relax, we got you.”

I don’t feel anything. What’s that roaring noise?

“CONRAD! Open your eyes!”

Oh. Right. My eyes. My eyes!

Damn! It’s bright! I can see! Everything is out of focus though. That can’t be good. Ha ha ha!

“Ha ha ha!”

“Hey, welcome back Ben! What’s so funny?” Rick said, with a perplexed and oh so serious look on his face.

“Ha ha! Sorry. You look so…ha ha!”

“Dammmm. I want what he’s taking!” Rick said, smiling.

What was so funny? I feel drunk. But I didn’t have any beers or nothin’. Must be a concussion, I guess.

“There’s Doc. Larson! Get Doc a harness and hardhat!” Mike yelled out.

No problem Mike!” Larson shouted.

“Can’t you bring him down here?!” Doc pleaded.

“I think you should check him out before we move him!” Shouted Mike.

“F*ck! I hate climbing!” Doc whined.

“Man, he has an attitude,” I said “Ha ha ha! I’m okay. Really. I can move,” I said.

“Then let go of the hammer,” Rick said.

“Sure. What do you need it for?” I asked.

“I just wanted to try two hammers at once. Like John Henry,” Rick said.

“That was a great story. Sad though,” I said, letting the hammer go.

“How do you feel, Ben?” Mike asked.

“I feel fine,” I said, rotating my head.

“Don’t do that! You might have a fracture!” Mike shouted.

“Too late. Look, Mike. I feel a bit tipsy but nothin’s broken,” I said, rubbing my neck.

“I really think Doc should check you out first. Stay put!” Mike said sternly.

That was so funny! “Ha ha! Aye aye, Cap’n Bligh!” I said, knowing I could get away with it.

“Yo! Can you get him down now?” Doc called up.

“Get your ass up here Doc! Now!” Mike shouted.

“Alright! Sh*t! I’m coming!” Doc yelled.

“I can’t believe he used to work with Marines,” Mike said, chuckling.

We all laughed at that.

“How long was I out?” I asked.

“A few minutes, but you never let go of the scaffolding or hammer, so you weren’t completely out,” Mike said.

“It was weird if you ask me,” said Rick, matter-of-factly.

Somehow that was funny. Rick could deliver a great line.

“It felt weird. Definitely a twilight zone moment,” I said.

It seemed a lot longer than a few minutes. Time didn’t exist at the time.
Something to ponder…could I ever go back to that dreamlike state under good circumstances?
Did I really want to? I don’t know.

I shook my head quickly to fight another sudden urge to sleep. I felt like I had been up for two days.

“Make room.”

Doc was here. Mike inched over behind me.

I looked at Doc’s name. Wittner. He was a first class. HM1 Wittner.

“I’m HM1 Wittner. How are you feeling?” Doc asked.

“I’m okay. I’m just sleepy,” I said, fighting to keep my eyes open.

“Well, don’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake,” Doc said, as he made his way to me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you probably have a concussion,” Doc said, opening his med kit.

“Do you have any cuts? Does your head hurt?” Doc asked, grabbing an instrument.

“No cuts that I know of. My head feels like it’s bruised. My headache is coming back,” I said, wincing.

Whoa! Damn it! Why didn’t he warn me?

“Anything else hurt,” Doc asked, shining a stabbing light in my eyes.

“Yeah. I got a stabbing pain in the back of my eyes from that torture device your using,” I ssid, wincing even more.

“Uh huh,” said Doc, still looking at my eyes. “Yeah, you got a concussion. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Hell if I know. You just blinded me,” I said, irritated.

“Who’s the President?” Doc asked, ignoring my snarky response.

“Ronald Reagan,” I said. “I’m Ben Conrad, I’m on the Duluth at Todd Shipyards, today is Thursday, it’s 1980,” I said, trying to speed up the examination.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Doc asked again.

He’s persistant, I’ll give him that.

“Three fingers,” I said, sighing.

“Yep. You got a mild concussion. Are you dizzy or lightheaded?” He asked.

“Nope,” I lied. I just wanted this over with.

“Do you think you can climb down?” Doc asked.

“No problem,” I said.

“Alright, I’m going to climb down first, and you follow me. Mike, you follow Conrad,
understood?” Doc asked.

“Aye,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

The euphoria was gone and replaced by a pounding headache. I was getting nauseated, and I was thirsty. If I could get a drink of water I would be okay.

“I’m hooking his harness to mine,” Mike said, unfastening my safety line and hooking it to his harness.

“Good thinking,” Doc said. “Now let’s go. Slowly.”

I followed Doc down, without a problem. My arms were burning by the time we got to the deck.
Mike unhooked me, and helped me get out of the harness.

“Follow me to sickbay. I’m going to observe you for a few hours,” Doc said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

Oh crap! No naps for awhile.

“Please tell me you don’t listen to polka,” I said.

“No way! Why would you think that?” Doc asked with a befuddled look.

“Long story,” I said, relieved.

“Mike, Rick, thanks,” I said, grateful that they were there.

“Hey! You would do the same for me,” Rick said, smiling.

“Let’s not make a habit of it,” Mike said, patting me on the shoulder. “Hurry up and get better. We still have a lot of work to do,” Mike continued, smiling.

“Just as long as Garner isn’t above me,” I said, following Doc.

Top of the World, Ma! For Real this Time!

“Larson, take Tatum and get as much equipment as many needleguns and sanders as you can. Don’t forget chipping hammers and sandpaper. Doubletime!” Mike ordered.”You got it!” Larson replied. “Err, where is Tatum?”

“Tatum!” Mike shouted, looking around. “G-ddammit, where is he?! Okay, just go! I’ll send Tatum after you,” Mike said.

Larson darted out the hatch.

“Rudman! Where’s Tatum?” Mike asked.

“I dunno Mike. I saw him at muster,” Rudmsn said.

“I know he was at muster!” Mike exclaimed. “Go down to the Bosun locker and help Larson bring the tools to the mast. If you see Tatum, tell him to get his ass here!”

“Will do!” Said Rudman, running out of Combat.

“Tatum ain’t gonna have an ass when Mike gets through with him,” Rick said, laughing.

Everyone else in hearing range laughed as well.

“Might as well grab a cup of joe until Divvo gets here,” Rick said.

“Good idea,” I said, as Rick poured me a cup.

“Stiles, where are you going?” Mike asked.

“I was going to go to the ships store. I need some more boot polish and some new stencil markers,” Stiles said.

“The store doesn’t open until 0800,” Mike said, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah. Right,” Stiles said looking down.

“What’s the problem?” Mike asked.

“I gotta see Doc,” Stiles said, still looking down.

“What for?” Mike asked.

Silence.

“Stiles?” Mike asked, lowering his voice. “Tell me in the passageway. C’mon,” Mike said, walking out of Combat. “No one leaves without checking with me!” Mike shouted.

Stiles looked around, like a deer caught in headlights, and followed Mike.

“I bet he’s got the clap,” Garner said, snickering.

“Better not be crabs,” said Curtis, scratching his head.

“Don’t even say that man!” Exclaimed Garner, backing away from Curtis.

Laughter. Somewhat subdued.

I never had crabs, but I had heard about them. I didn’t know much about them, and I didn’t want to find out the hard way but I wasn’t going to ask. I didn’t want to look stupid.

“If he has crabs we’ll all know soon enough,” Chief said, sitting at his desk.

“I never had crabs but I heard they were bad,” Rick whispered.

“Same here,” I whispered back.

Rick confided in me, but he just met me. Everyone else appeared to have been on Duluth for awhile.

“How long have you been aboard, Rick?” I asked.

“About 3 weeks,” he said. “I’m kind of surprised Mike picked me to show you around and get checked in,” Rick continued.

“Where in the south are you from?” I asked.

Rick had an obvious southern accent, but not a real heavy one.

“Kentucky. You?”

“Oregon. Well, California originally, but mostly Oregon.” I said.

“We travelled around a lot. My dad was in the Army. He was pissed when he found out I joined the Navy,” Rick said with a slight smile.
“I think he might be over it now. At least he’s talkin’ to me again,” Rick chuckled.

Sheesh! His dad should be proud! I thought.

“Why was he mad?” I asked. Puzzled.

“Grampa was in the Army. So was uncle Bill. I guess my dad thought it was a family tradition. I dunno,” He said. “I’m not too good at runnin’, so I picked the Navy,” he said, smiling.

“I hear you. I hate to run too. Long distances anyway,” I said.

Mike returned to CIC and poured himself a cup of java.

“Stiles going to be okay?” Chief asked.

“We should get him back after Doc see’s him,” Mike said, sipping his coffee.

“Alright. We’ll talk later, Chief said, grabbing some paperwork. “I have to go see the CDO. I’ll be back before lunch,” Chief continued.

“I got everything covered here, Chief,” Mike said.

“Get everyone working on the mast as soon as you can,” Chief said. “We only have three weeks to finish it.”

“We’ll meet the deadline,” Mike said confidently.

“I’m holding you to that, Mike,” Chief said, smiling as he left.

“Has JG showed up yet?” Mike asked.

“Not yet Mike,” Rick said.

“Hold on. I’ll see if he’s in his stateroom,” Mike said, dialing the number.

About 30 seconds later, Mike hung up. “He probably got caught up with something else.
I’ll let you know when mr. Conner is ready to see you. Until then, you’ll be working on the mast,” Mike said, looking at me.

The phone rang. “CIC, Martin speaking,” Mike answered. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay, meet me at the mast,” Mike said.

“That was Larson. He only got one needlegun, so we will be doing it the old fashioned way today. Everyone grab a hardhat and harness and follow me Mike said getting a hardhat with a first class petty officer insignia on it.

Rick handed me a hardhat and harness, got his own and we followed Mike out to the weatherdeck and up, up to the base of the mast.

“Larson will be hear soon. Adjust your hardhats and harnesses so they fit tightly,” Mike said.

I had no problem with the hardhat. I watched everyone else to figure out how to put the harness on.

A few minutes later, Larson and Rudman showed up, lugging all the tools.

“Good. Rudman, you set up the hose for the needlegun. Everyone else grab a chipping hammer and some sandpaper,” Mike ordered.

“This is bullsh*t Mike!” Garner complained. “Why don’t we wait until we can get more guns and sanders? It’ll take forever to do it manually.”

“It’ll take forever if we keep standing around shooting the sh^t and bitching about things that are beyond our control. Get to work Garner. You lead,” Mike said.

Sigh. “Whatever,” Garner said, climbing the mast.

“When he gets to the top Rick, you start up. Ben, you go after Rick. You’re not scared of heights are you?” Mike asked.

“I love heights,” I said, smiling. I used to climb fir trees, cherry, oak, etc., often, so heights didn’t bother me.

“When you get up there, make sure you hook up your safety line before you start working. Rick will show you what to do,” Mike said.
“Okay, go,” he continued.

I reached up and started climbing. Heck, this was easier than trees!

“Slow down Conrad! It’s not a race!” Mike shouted.

I slowed down a bit.

“If you fall I’m going to kick your ass! Slowdown!” Mike shouted again.

Sheesh. What’s the big deal? I thought. But I slowed down some more.

When I reached the top yardarm I looked around.

“Right over there Ben,” Rick pointed.

I hooked up the clasp to the safety line. I sat on the yardarm and looked in awe at the view. I could see for miles in every direction.

This is so cool! I just stared in wonder…

“Ben! Are you alright?!” Mike asked, as he climbed up to my position.

“I’m fine. Just enjoying the scenery. Why?” I asked.

“I thought you froze for a second there. It is a great view,” Mike said, looking around.

“Hey! There’s Tatum by the signal bridge! Tatum! TATUM!” Mike shouted.
“Sh^t! He can’t hear me. Unless he’s faking deafness. Larson! Go get Tatum! He’s on the signal bridge!”

“Where?!” Larson shouted up.

The wind was kicking up, and Larsons voice sounded weak from up here.

“SIGNAL BRIDGE!” Mike shouted, cupping his mouth like a megaphone.

“Aye!” Larson shouted back, giving the thumbs up.

Mike pulled his hammer from his belt.

“Watch how I do it,” Mike said, beginning to chip away with the hammer.

Rust and paint chips were flying off as Mike swung. Looked easy enough to me.
A nute or so later Mike looked over at me.

“Now you try it,” he said.

I swung my hammer and could feel the vibrations as I swung. Clang! Clang! Clang!

“Good! Keep at it,” Mike said.

I continued, swinging away with abandon as the wind gusted, roaring in my ears.
An hour went by, until Mike ordered me to stop.

“Now, grab a sheet of sandpaper and sand the area you chipped. Yeah, like that. Fold it up a few times to get a better grip,” he said.

He’s right. That works better. Whoa! That was a big gust! I quickly grabbed the yardarm, struggling to keep my balance.
I didn’t want to test the safety line in this wind!

“F^ck!” I heard Garner yell above me.

I began to look up but before I could raise my head I felt a sharp blow on my hardhat! I almost lost my grip, as the hardhat flew off my head! I saw the hat falling along with a chipping hammer.

“Look out!” I screamed at Rudman, arranging the hoses for the pneumatic needlegun on the deck below.

Too late! The hammer just missed him and hit the deck, bouncing in front of Rudman.
My hardhat fell behind him bounced a few times and went over the side to rest on the weatherdeck far below.

Rudman jumped at first, and then ran away from the mast looking back, his eyes wide with fear!

“Oh sh^t! Oh sh^t! Jesus! Aaaahhhh!” Rudman screamed, his voice fading away as he ran.

“Are you okay Ben?” Mike asked, moving towards me.

“Yeah, I think so. I got a major headache though,” I said, my head pounding, my heart still racing.

“What the f^ck! Garner! What the hell are you doing?!” Mike shouted, anger searing his voice.

“I’m sorry! It slipped…I lost my grip! It was the f^cking wind!” Rudman shouted.

“Rudman! Go get Conrad’s hat! Now!” Mike yelled, when Rudman hesitated,

I closed my eyes, to shut out the pain. Damn! That didn’t work. Only made it worse. I felt dizzy and nauseated. The deck below was spinning when I opened my eyes. Damn! Gotta…hold on!! Lord…

Top of the World Ma!

As a young teenager I actually considered being a hermit, or a ‘mountain man’, with minimal human contact.
There were reasons for this that I won’t get into…”Why not?”Skully, not now. Can’t you see I’m blogging here?”No disrespect meant, Cap’n, but don’t you think that mebbe, just mebbe, your readers might be curious as to why a young teenager would even consider bein’ a hermit?”

I doubt it Skully. Most readers come here for the sea stories, not childhood stories. Besides, it’s not that interesting and it stems from tragedy, although tragedy isn’t the only reason.

“I’m interested.”

Another thing, Skully, is that writing these posts takes energy. Particularly the tragic/sad/depressing stuff, which takes a lot more out of me than the joyful/happy stuff, and leaves me physically and emotionally exhausted.
You know I don’t have much energy to spare.

“I know. I’m sorry Cap’n. Are you gonna tell your fellow Coons ‘that story’ sometime?”

There’s a lot of folks far worse off than I am, Skully, including many of my Bro’s and Sista’s under the pelt, so I’m not going to get into my medical problems.

“I think yer makin’ a mistake Cap’n. Tragic stuff can be liberatin’, even healin’, and “you know who” thinks it’s a good idea.”

{Sigh} Okay, look, Skully. If I get a request for those tragic tales, by at least 12 different readers (trolls don’t get a vote), then I’ll write about it, but only if.
Now would you please let me finish this story? And quit making unpiratey remarks while your at it.

“Just sayin’ is all.”

Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Anyways, the idea to be a hermit kind of fell to the wayside because for one thing, I didn’t have the money to buy a cabin at the time.
There were also some people I still wanted to see as often as I could, such as my Grandparents, and my brothers and Mom, occasionally.

But, the fact remained, I wasn’t what you would call sociable, and to this day I avoid crowds like the plague.
I was polite to a fault. Civil, yes. But I wasn’t a “people person.”

I could make friends, and I wanted to, but it was a slow process. Then again, in hindsight, perhaps not slow enough sometimes.

0700- “All hands to quarters for muster, instruction and inspection.”

The LPO, OS1 Mike checked his list with those of us who were there.

“Where’s Nathan?” Mike asked.

“He’s on watch,” Chief replied.

“He isn’t scheduled for watch,” Mike said.

“I know. His relief hasn’t shown up,” Chief said.

A LTJG showed up, and I assumed he was our division officer.

“Attention!” Mike ordered. Mike saluted the LTJG and said, “all present and accounted for sir.”

The LTJG returned Mike’s salute and accepted the muster report, quickly looking it over.

“Ops (Operations department head) wants to inspect everyone after Officers Call,” LTJG said.

“We have a lot of work scheduled sir, and we want to get some needleguns and sanders before they are all gone,” Chief said.

“I understand, Chief. But the XO isn’t happy with overall crew appearance, so everyone is getting inspected by department heads today. I’ll try to get Ops to inspect OI division first, but there are no guarantee’s,” LTJG said.

“Thank you sir,” Chief said, a troubled look on his face.

“I better get to Officers Call. Get everyone as ready as you can,” LTJG said, walking briskly away.

After he left there was a lot of mumbling and complaints.

“What does the XO expect? We’re in the yards.”

“We bust our asses for 12 hours a day!”

“Can’t keep anything clean!”

“Yeah, Chief, all this f*ckin’ dust!”

“I haven’t had time to get a haircut, Mike.”

“The ship’s barber was booked yesterday.”

“I’m still trying to get paint off my boots.”

“Use the turpentine, it works better than paint thinner.”

“All my dungarees have paint on them!”

“Mine too!”

Were just some of the statements I heard.

“Quiet!” Mike shouted after a few minutes.

“You all get a uniform allowance, and even though it isn’t enough, your still responsible to show up to quarters in clean uniforms. When you’re painting put masking tape over your boots. Who is the supply petty officer? Janson? Order a set of coveralls for everyone. I don’t want to see you guys trying to get a haircut appointment a week or two after you need one. Get one in town if you have to,”
Mike said, looking back and forth at everyone.

“Anyone got 5 bucks I can borrow?” Quipped one seaman to scattered chuckles.

“Why the surprise inspection? I mean, we’re in the yards for cryin’ out loud!” Another seaman complained.

“I don’ think the XO really cares about how hard we work, jes’ so long as we look good,” said another seaman with a deep southern drawl.

Everyone laughed at that one.

“Officers call,” said the petty officer of the watch over the 1MC.

“Next time I’ll put on some extra aftershave,” said a petty officer third class.

“We have a new man. This is OSSA Conrad. Rick, I want you to stick with him today so he doesn’t get lost. He still needs to finish checking in,” Mike said.

“Roger that,” Rick said. “Welcome aboard!” He continued, smiling.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Fresh meat!” Someone behind me said, followed by laughter.

“Shh! You’re not supposed to have fun during surprise inspections,” Chief said.

“Seriously,” he continued, “I expect you all to be ready for inspection every morning. No more excuses. Understood?”

“Aye Chief”, I said, along with some of the others.

“Attention on deck!” Mike ordered.

The Divvo (division officer) and Ops arrived and Chief saluted.

“OI division ready for inspection sir,” Chief said.

“Okay Chief. Let’s make this quick,” Ops said, turning to the first man.
“Paint on your boots and uniform. You need a haircut. You need to shave, boots need shined, buckle polished, uniform wrinkled, your cover has paint on it…”

Mike wrote down all the discrepancies as Ops rattled them off. I was one of the few that didn’t have any “hits”, but I didn’t feel good about it. I could understand some of the complaints.

After the inspection Ops gave us the third degree. Sort of.
“Most of you are a disgrace to the uniform, and don’t get me started on the haircuts!
There is no excuse! I understand there has been a problem getting enough coveralls and I will personally make sure that is expedited, but you men need to do your part also, and I expect that you will. Tomorrow there will be another inspection. You will all be clean shaven, beards and mustaches trimmed to Navy standards, and boots and belt buckles shined. Those of you who show no improvement will stay for 2 hours of EMI (extra military instruction), everyday, until the discrepancies are fixed,” Ops said.

“The XO will be conducting some surprise inspections of his own, and I expect you all to be ready when he does. I appreciate your hard work, and I know it’s harder to get the little things done with our extended hours due to the strike, but you men are part of the greatest Navy in the world. You can meet and exceed any challenge!
Let’s show Todd Shipyards and the rest of the Navy how tough you men are! Help each other out. Work and play as a team! Understood?” Ops exclaimed.

“Aye aye sir!” I said in (almost) unison with everyone else.

“I can’t hear you!” He said.

“AYE AYE SIR!” We shouted in unison.

“Very well! Carry on!” Ops said, leaving to go to his next inspection.

Wow. He got me fired up!

“What a bunch of bullsh*t,” I heard whispered behind me.

“Navy. Never again volunteer yourself,” someone else said.

Apparently, not everyone felt the same way I did.

“Everyone meet in CIC. Dismissed,” Chief said.

Moral Dementia

In response to my last post commenter RickyDean replied…
“I’m glad to hear that you were never in harm’s way in the navy. When I first read the passage I thought you had been in that situation.
I hear voices in my head too. My psychologist says that hearing voices is a sign of schizophrenia. Whatever that means. I think everyone has voices that they battle with. Just as long as you don’t do what they say…right Benny?
Anyways…thanks for the stories. I know most of them probably aren’t true, but I like to believe that they are. The way that you write them makes them very believable.”B’ob has a superb post today that accurately describes people like Rickydean:
http://onecosmos.blogspot.com/2007/04/eye-for-wedgie.htmlFirstly, anyone in a peacetime Military is in ‘harms way’, and it was no different during the Cold War.
Sailors are subject to danger from the possibility of accidents, fires, floods, the weather, the sea, and during my time in the Navy; mines laid by Iran, Iranian homicide bomber boats, Iranian rockets and missiles, Iranian homicide aircraft,
and the Iranian “navy”.

In future posts I’ll write about how we handled those dangers. For those like Rickydean, I can assure you, we won those skirmishes.

Not to mention the possibility of hostile actions by communist ships, subs and aircraft by the former USSR, China and North Korea, to name a few.

I recall being lit up by fire-control RADARs from Soviet Migs and combat ships and the Soviet ships always pointed their missiles at us.
They always claimed they were doing “maintenance” on their RADAR’s and weapon systems, so we always did our own “maintenance”.

Still, it was a bit tense during those confrontations, because you just don’t know what brainwashed commie maniacs are going to do and unfortunately, our ROE (rules of engagement) at the time were very clear: We could not fire unless first fired upon.
Fire-control RADAR’s are a provocative act, nonetheless.

Getting back to our morally demented commenter…
Gee Rickydean, you thought I was writing about voices? If I were writing about voices I would include “quotation marks”.
I was writing some of my thoughts at the time, and they were all coming from me, and I Am.

Rickydean is just oversaturated with sarcasm and bitterness, driven by a self-imposed need to confuse that which is clear, because reality is too scary.
Rickydean has discarded the virtue of civilty, and it’s obvious what his goals are.

Moral dementia is actually worse than open immorality (although they aren’t exclusive of each other) because those that embrace it try to hide what it really is and what it really means.

Alone…

“Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into our side, Chief. We was comin’ back from the island of Tinian to Leyte… just delivered the bomb. The Hiroshima bomb. Eleven hundred men went into the water. Vessel went down in 12 minutes. Didn’t see the first shark for about a half an hour. Tiger. 13-footer.
You know how you know that when you’re in the water, Chief? You tell by looking from the dorsal to the tail. What we didn’t know, was our bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn’t even list us overdue for a week.
Very first light, Chief, sharks come cruisin’, so we formed ourselves into tight groups. You know, it was kinda like old squares in the battle like you see in the calendar named “The Battle of Waterloo” and the idea was: shark comes to the nearest man, that man he starts poundin’ and hollerin’ and screamin’ and sometimes the shark go away… but sometimes he wouldn’t go away. Sometimes that shark he looks right into ya. Right into your eyes. And, you know, the thing about a shark… he’s got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll’s eyes. When he comes at ya, doesn’t seem to be living… until he bites ya, and those black eyes roll over white and then… ah then you hear that terrible high-pitched screamin’. The ocean turns red, and despite all the poundin’ and the hollerin’, they all come in and they… rip you to pieces. You know by the end of that first dawn, lost a hundred men. I don’t know how many sharks, maybe a thousand. I know how many men, they averaged six an hour. On Thursday morning, Chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Boatswain’s mate. I thought he was asleep. I reached over to wake him up. Bobbed up, down in the water just like a kinda top. Upended. Well, he’d been bitten in half below the waist.
Noon, the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura saw us. He swung in low and he saw us… he was a young pilot, a lot younger than Mr. Hooper. Anyway, he saw us and he come in low and three hours later a big fat PBY comes down and starts to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened… waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred men went in the water; 316 men come out and the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb,” said Captain Quint.

2000: Movie on the flight deck. Good ole reel-to-reel.
We were watchin’ Jaws.

I thought back to my time on the Henderson.
The sharks would follow the ship most of the time. Waitin’. Waitin’ for the excess food and garbage to be dumped after breakfast, lunch, dinner or midrats.

And maybe they were waitin’ for someone to fall off the ship.
Live or dead they loved their meat.

Sharks. They got no compassion, you know. You can’t reason with a shark. You can’t negotiate or make a deal.
Sharks will just as soon eat an ambassador or diplomat, they aren’t picky.
Long as it bleeds they’ll feed. With those lifeless, souless eyes staring at you.
No. There’s no mercy in a sharks eyes, Chief…

I didn’t know anyone yet, so I sat by myself watching the movie.
Would I ever wear a lifevest if I fell into the deep blue? I really couldn’t say for sure.

I was surrounded by dozens of Sailors, but I was alone. Nobody knew me.
I sensed the overall moral on the Duluth was very low. Very negative. I didn’t like the vibes I was feeling.

Damnit. Why couldn’t I have stayed on the Henderson? How come Chief Cook couldn’t transfer here? I could sure use his humor right about now.
I missed Chief and Eltee. Hell, I even missed Smitty and Joe.

I knew I was feeling sorry for myself. Snap out of it Ben! It’s not like you haven’t been alone before. This isn’t like you.

Yeah, I know. It’ll get better. Right? Yeah, sure it will.

Are you up there God?

Sure, now you turn to God. When was the last time you prayed or even thought of Him?

Been awhile Lord… I’m sorry about that.

You should be. Where’s your faith now? Do you really think that God will listen to the likes of you? No, He has better things to do.

Lord?

Don’t you get it you idiot? You aren’t worth His time. Always asking and pleading.
You’re pitiful you know that?

Shut up! Leave me alone!

Ha ha! You can’t get rid of me you loser.

Lord, please forgive me for my sins.

Oh please. Spare me the contrite sinner routine. You’re a fraud.

A fraud? A loser? Me? Maybe so. But I’ll still pray.

Knock yourself out. But your wasting your time.

This is absurd! Is that other voice real or just my imagination?

Oh I’m real alright. More real than you can imagine. I know you.

Sh^t! Okay. Deep breath. Watch the movie. Quit talking to yourself.

Yeah, quit talking to me. Just remember, I’m always here.

I forced myself to watch the movie.

After the movie I headed for my rack. I quickly undressed and climbed into my rack.
I was tired, but I felt uneasy.
Dark forces were at work. I could feel it.

Father, please give me strength and renew my faith. Watch over my Grandpa, Grandma, my brothers Doug and Greg, and my Mom. In the name of Jesus I pray, Amen.

That felt so hollow. Why didn’t I feel God’s presence? What is wrong with me?

Do you want the long list or the readers digest version?

I’m going to sleep. Bug off!

I’ll be back…

So tired…

“Reveille reveille! All hands heave out and trice up! The smoking lamp is lit in all berthing areas. Now reveille!”

I just went to sleep! My eyes burned. No way is it 0600 already.

But it was. I jumped down to the cold tiles and put on my shower shoes. I hurried to the head to get a sink, but I had to wait. While waiting I put on my shaving cream.

The guy ahead of me finally finished and I moved up to the sink and started shaving.
Hmmm. Real mirrors. That’s nice.

I finished my business and got dressed. My boots looked good but I buffed them anyway. First day, I wanted to make a good impression.

I hurried up to the mess deck and stood in line for chow. 10 minutes later I sat down to eat.

Why am I so nervous? I ate quickly, barely tasting the food. After finishing I downed my milk and started drinking my coffee.

The closer it got to 0700 the more the butterflies acted up in my stomach.

0640. I decided to go have a smoke to calm my nerves.

0653. Time to go to muster. I wanted to be early.

I quickly transversed the ladders until I arrived on the 0-2 level.
There were 6 OS’s already there, shootin’ the breeze. I fell into the back rank.

Everyone seemed to be watching me. I felt uneasy and nauseated.

I will not throw up. I refuse!

That didn’t help. Damn, my stomach hurt! All cramped up! What in the hell was wrong with me?

I looked at my watch. 0659. One more minute. I could hardly wait.

Australian Reporter Reveals Name And Address Of Anti-Jihad Blogger

http://www.jihadwatch.org/dhimmiwatch/archives/015797.phpThere is no limit to the depths of depravity of the left.

For those who blog, or comment, it is prudent not to trust reporters (in general).
It’s probably not a good idea to post at leftist blogs either, since many on the left have no honor.

This scumbag reporter Gavin assured the blogger in question of his anonymity.
Gavin lied, made public the name and address of the blogger, and called his blog a ‘hate’ site.

Why does Gavin call the Sheik’s blog a hate site?
Because the Sheik tells the truth, that’s why. Leftists hate the truth, therefor truth is hate in their eyes.

The only hate I see going on here is from this cowardly dhimmi reporter who deserves to be banished to Tehran.
Actually he deserves more than that, for trying to get a good man and his family murdered by Islamofascist terrorists!

TW: Mizze

Global Warming Crisis Or Smogfather Of Smug Boondoggle?

 

Jim wrote an excellent guest post at Shrinkwrapped.
He included several good links, and there is another excellent link by A Jacksonian
in the comments that’s well worth the read.Click the title and check it out or cut n’ paste: http://shrinkwrapped.blogs.com/blog/2007/03/global_warming_.html

I tried to post a comment at SW’s but it’s not cooperating, so I’ll post it here.

Excellent post, Jim!
Thanks for the links.

I concur with pretty much all the commenters as well.

As Jim, SW and many commenters have said, there is so much we don’t know about global warming. We certainly don’t know enough to make the draconian changes (and restrictions on our liberty) that the Smogfather (Algore) and his minions want to make.

I do know that the taxes and sky-high prices the Algorians want to impose will hurt the poor and probably the middle class, not to mention limiting our liberties (as Jim mentioned) and demanding “protection” money from a hypothetical “crisis” (what is it, 11-22 inches or 23 feet? Or much ado about nothing?).

I believe capitalism will drive the eventual switch from fossil fuels to ‘cleaner’ or clean energy sources much more efficiently and far less painfully than the Smogfather of smug and his smuggly politicians can ever hope to.

Plus, we may actually manage to hold on to our hard fought liberties!

UPDATE SPECIAL!!!
If you are a JimmyJ. fan (and who isn’t?), check out his excellent book!

http://www.booksamillion.com/ncom/books?pid=0759668914&ad=FGLBKS

It’s a good read!

Posted by USS Ben USN (Ret) at 6:17 AM    

 

6 comments:

juliec said…

Thanks for the link here, Ben – I clearly haven’t been reading Shrinkwrapped enough lately.”I believe capitalism will drive the eventual switch from fossil fuels to ‘cleaner’ or clean energy sources much more efficiently and far less painfully than the Smogfather of smug and his smuggly politicians can ever hope to.”

Indeed.

March 29, 2007 10:33 AM  

robinstarfish said…

Jimmy J rocks. Great links too.An anagram for ANTHROPOGENIC GLOBAL WARMING is ABNORMAL PATHOGENIC GROWLING.

Algore is barking mad and now John Kerry has joined the rabid pack (late like he always does) with his own AGW book.

So predictable.

March 29, 2007 11:25 AM  

walt said…

The current issue of Insight Magazine says Algore is seriously considering a run as a third party candidate. Sounds far-fetched, but they claim he actually does believe he is a prophet, and “destined.”Ben, if you can stand a fairly long, but very interesting speech, titled “Aliens Cause Global Warming,” then Google Michael Crichton, and click on the speech title. It’s a good one.

March 29, 2007 6:52 PM  

cosanostradamus said…

Yeah, I second Walt’s recommendation. All his speeches are well worth reading.I’d love to see Gore run. He has no chance of winning, but he’d be enough of a spoiler to keep Hellary out of the White House. But her machine won’t let that happen.

March 29, 2007 10:25 PM  

Clandestine said…

Man, I’ll tell you guys. I am so tired of hearing about this global warming crap. The government just wants to get into our business and tell us what we can and can’t do. If I want to drive a big Humvee around that only gets 9mpg so be it. Who should be able to stop me? And who really cares about global warming anyway??? Really. I personally don’t care if we never see snow again, or polar bears for that matter. I don’t care if Manhattan or LA or Seattle is over run with water, because I don’t live there. And for those that do, they could always move somewhere else. This is about the strong surviving. We are a big rich country and we will survive and if there are droughts or what ever in other countries, that’s just their problem.

March 30, 2007 10:57 AM  

uss ben said…

juliec-
Shrinkwrapped and JimmyJ are always worth a gander! I was reading Shrinkwrapped before Bob started his blog.
Bob used to comment over at Shrinkwrapped often, and I thought he was a Pastor or retired Preacher, lol!Robinstarfish-
Thanks for the cool amalgram! It is steeped in truth.
Speaking of JimmyJ., gives me an idea for an update. :^)

Walt-
I love reading Michael Chricton’s speeches, and his books are good too!
Dr. Chrichton is so…logical.
I’m sure glad he’s on our team now.
We need sharp minds like his.

Cosanostradamus-
I too would like to see Gore run.
It would be all too easy to expose his insanity.

Clandestine-
Sarcasm works better when it’s subtle.
Here’s a news scoop for you, and please, feel free to check it out for yourself.
There were less than 10,000 polar bears in the ’70’s, and today there are more than 25,000.
However, some leftist scientists say that polar bear gonads are getting smaller (how do you suppose they determined that little factoid?).

As for water rising-
Do you believe the UN’s IPCC report of 11-22 inches in 100 years or Algores 23 feet anytime now?
Speaking of the smogfather of smug, where were all those massive global warming powered hurricanes last year that Algore predicted?
Maybe Algore can draw on his liberal art’s knowledge and explain these inconvenient truths away.

What I Worked For, What I Fought For…

I recently saw the hideous protest in Portland Oregon, where the protesters showed their true colors by burning an effigy of a Soldier, ‘proudly’ displayed their psychopathic tendencies by displaying a large banner that said “fuck the troops” and
showed the world how anti-American they are by burning some American flags, among other despicable unpatriotic acts.Then I heard this idiot Leftist lawyer say that this type of expression is what the military fights for.

Well, speaking for myself, I never fought for that kind of evil: the evil of selfish ‘freedom’ excused as a Constitutional right of ‘free’ speech.

Isn’t it ironic that the Left claims to despise hate speech while happily using it for their own nefarious schemes meant to destroy all that is good?
Ironic, hypocritical, and proceeding from envious rebellion.

No, I fought for several ideals: to protect the God given life of Americans, our liberty as defined by the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Federalist Papers, quotes by our Founding Fathers that wonderfully described the essence of liberty provided by divine Providence, and the pursuit of happiness; a spiritual happiness that exceeds the bounds of our flesh.
And the self evident truths that those Portland protesters refuse to see or hear.

Some, maybe many will ask “then what about these anti-American cowards? What are we to do about them?”

My fellow American patriots: I believe that we the people should publicly shun the commie ingrates that identify themselves as enemies of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
A public shunning of their political leaders and hollywood idols is also in order.

It’s past time to cut off federal funds to the radical looniversities (tw: Bob) attack, ridicule and deny a voice for our military recruiters and ROTC programs that build character and respect.
Plus the wackademoniacs don’t teach anything of value, and nary a virtue, only crap designed to indoctrinate and enslave.
We should also demand that our Congress cut off federal funds to cities like San Francisco, that give the middle finger to our immigration laws, the second Ammendment, and deny access to our military recruiters.

It should be illegal to burn flags and effigys in public, for it is a safety issue and taxpayers shouldn’t have to pay to clean up the messes they make, or to have firemen standing by in case a fire gets out of control.

When the opportunity presents itself and we are able, we should join our fellow patriots to counter and drown out the protest of all these little wormtongues that seek to destroy God, us and the American way of life.

For the goal of these bitter ingrates is socialism, communism, atheism and anarchy. They call for the destruction of Religous liberty, the right to bear arms, and free speech that doesn’t conform to their demonifestos.

No way did I serve our country for those retarded scumbags in Portland or their evil ilk creeping about our country!

No way did I defend the cause of these dishonorable rat turds!