TC the Terrible

Turns out that’s a pretty good excuse for acting like an asshole.  You’d be surprised at the amount of space people I get when one of my buddies drops that phrase about me.   Civilians don’t know shit from shit so I can probably use it until I’m 100 years old.  The Soldiers I work with tell me to go fuck myself, and frankly that’s the better approach.  Brutal honesty – the world needs more of it.

I’m not the easiest of guys to hang out with to start, but the past few months have really been tough on my family and both of my friends.  So I cut them a foot of slack and turn most of it inward.  And I grab a third shot of Turkey 101 to sand the corners smooth.

Since I’ve come home the asshole is always floating right under the surface.  Even on good days I’m never more than a syllable from snapping like a Macho Man Slim Jim.  It’s not so much anger, as it is a lust for primacy.    Or maybe it’s a blast of superiority that comes across me.  One of those “I’m better than you so why are you fucking looking at me?” kind of vibes.   I’ll say this much, it keeps the Jehovah Witnesses off my front porch.  Got to learn how to turn it on and off, cause pissed off mode is powerful stuff in a world filled with the weak minded.

A moment of honesty here.  I wasn’t in any firefights; no rag head came charging over my foxhole screaming to Allah, none of that John Wayne shit happened, I was never in that kind of danger – and yeah I regret it.  In my old age when I bounce my grandchildren on my knee I’ll have to tell them that I got to the war long after it quit being fun.  I took a few helicopter rides, had some meals with the Iraqi populace and spent an afternoon crawling around Chemical Ali’s offices – but that’s it.  And someday I’ll hang the pictures of that joint on here for the rest of you to see.   He was a brutal mother fucker.

So no, I don’t have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  The doctor I talked to on the phone a few weeks ago said so.  He’s got PTSD, so he should know.

Still, I can seem to get myself in check.  There are days when wake up and I’m ready for the day to be over before my feet hit the floor.  Other days I’ve got more energy that the God Damned Energizer Bunny.  The scary days, I feel like a wolf in winter.  The enamel stretches tight across my teeth and I can hear/smell/see everything.   The world moves around me in slow motion and my heart pounds so hard it could break my ribs.

Feral is the only word for it.  And damn it feels good.

The promotion list came out the other day and guess whose name wasn’t on it. If you guessed mine you’d be right. Not that it wad all bad news.

I rated high enough to qualify for promotion,, but not high enough to make the final cut. Which is a two edged sword because the final list is never released. Yes indeed National Security is at risk if a mid-grade promotion list is made public. This list is so secret that those of us on it are not allowed to see our scores. I was told “it was really close at the top you were smoking hot”.? If that’s true how smoking hot was the female that got out of deployment by getting pregnant?? Because that sure as Hell happened.

Sour grapes?? You bet. I’ve done everything right for the last six years and I’m rewarded with “take another lap” and “we don’t know why”.? That’s fine, but don’t promote the shit heads and expect me to be good with it.

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Thanks to all of you guys from Homeland Security, DEA, Navy Network Information Center, The Brookings Institute, Pew Charitable Trust, those two blocked IPs from DC and The Executive Office Of The President USA for dropping by. If I need to pull a D.B. Cooper and jump from the plane now, let me know. I’d like to at least think that I had a chance to get away.