TC the Terrible

A quick tip of the hat and thanks to DCblogs for the mention, even if they had to cavet it first with the typical PC disclaimer – “This post is not for the easily offended or extremely PC-minded.”

I didn’t ask, I’m not telling and I really don’t care.  As long as you’re not trying to shove your junk in my ass.  And as long as you’re not trying to grab my junk.  The Venn diagram to the left is pretty liberal (left – liberal, get it?) regarding who gets to touch your junk.  And frankly, I’m pretty sure that any gay guy joining the Army for the purpose of junk grabbing is picking me last.

In fact, none of the gay guys I’ve served with have ever made a pass at me.  Which doesn’t bother me in the slightest, since I’ve had more than my share of gay waiters, flight attendants and the like hit on me over the years.  The idea that America’s Army will be any less capable of killing the enemy because rump riders get to go public is absurd.  None of the gay guys or gals I served with in Iraq last year caused problems in the unit.  The straight couples cheating on spouses were a much bigger issue.  And the teenagers that never went to college, those kids had revolving doors installed on their CHUs.  I hadn’t seen so many hookups since my pledge semester.

But not one incident of the gays getting into fist fights over who was banging the headquarters whore out of turn.  Seems like a good deal to me.

I’m not one to take a dick up my ass lightly, but I don’t give a shit what you do when you’re off duty.  In 23 years of service I’ve been in more than one unit that had a gay man or two in it.  Never had a problem before so I’m pretty sure that it won’t be a major issue going forward.

Of course there will be a couple of queens that enlist for the drama and attention.  They’ll wilt on the vine quicker than you think.  Then the world will move on and we’ll get back to doing what we do best – killing bad guys.

Sorry if you came around looking for a rant today.  I’m not going to give it to you.  At least not today.

Today I’m going to have lunch with my son at his school.  Then I’m going to sit around the house and finish a couple of books that have been collecting dust on my shelves.  At some point I’m going to have a cigar and go for a bit of a run.

This year I’m going to take advantage of the holiday.  I might even stimulate the economy a bit at some of the great sales taking place today. After all, what veteran doesn’t need a new mattress?

TC

I had a pretty good rant building today on all the pussies posing as men that I’ve ran into the past couple of days.  The number of which continues to amaze me seeing that I live in the once undisputed center of gravity for the rest of the free world.  But then I got my azimuth adjusted.  Hard.

During my half hour lunch hour I was in standing in line at the food court waiting on my Jared’s sub sandwich, behind government employed dweebs.  The kind of guys that are working for Uncle Sam because it’s the only job they can hang on to.  So naturally I’m getting madder by the minute.   My sandwich is ready so I get it and head out to grab a seat out in the courtyard.

Sitting in the doorway was a Soldier in a wheel chair.  This kid isn’t a day past 23.  Hell, he doesn’t look like he’s ever shaved.  Not that he’ll be able to himself anytime soon.  The kid is missing both legs above the knees and both arms just below the elbows.  And the fucker is wearing an Army Ten-Miler t-shirt.  This year’s shirt.

He’s looking at me looking at him, and trying not to stare at his missing limbs, so I said a simple “hello”.  He started talking a mile a minute.  Did I work here all the time?  Ain’t it cool to get to come to the Pentagon every day?  Was I in Iraq or Afghanistan?  Where was I from?  Tennessee – man they’ve got good hunting there.  He’s from Georgia.  He used to hunt all the time.  Can’t wait to get his happy ass back in the deer stand.  He was in Afghanistan, but that was a couple of years ago.  He’s out at Walter Reed now.  A buddy pushed him in the Ten-Miler.

His buddy showed up with his lunch and the two of them headed to courtyard to eat lunch.  I took up a seat a few dozen feet away from them.  His buddy fed this kid lunch and wiped his mouth for him.  Note that I didn’t say he had to feed him and wipe his mouth.  The buddy did it because he wanted to feed his friend.

How the fuck can I be so angry at traffic, the bills, my kids or anything else in the world when I’ve got it so easy?  This kid is going to need constant care for the rest of his life.  He won’t ever be able to do anything that I take for granted.  And he’s the happiest mother fucker I’ve seen in months.  He ran the Ten-Miler, he’s got a good friend and he’s looking forward to tomorrow.  And I bitch about I-66 being backed up.

Consider my azimuth reset.