Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Rants and Raves and How Old am I???

Back again but not really motivated to do the “Usual Wrecking Ball” job. Maybe after I warm up a bit on the keys... The Old I.R. of fame & legend (if only in his own mind) is sort of at the burnout stage in this tour. Normal to see as I’m now looking at the One Year Marker in Baghdadland, formerly known as the Saddam-A-Go-Go. Yep. One more year checked off and ‘check the box’ for weirdness, incoming fire, and the usual bullshit that goes along with being here. The past couple of weeks have been the hairiest out of the past twelve months, seeing that the “High Hardheaded Weirdbeards” and associated “Dirty Haj Brethren of Bad Body Odor and Offenses against God and Humanity” have started up to their old tricks, and the incoming has claimed a couple of lives over the past few, Ye Olde Intrepide Reporter is a bit off his stride.

Hell… how can one NOT be off one’s game? Another year… this make 6 years of being over here in various positions, with the most common one being BOHICA. That to the newbies means “Bend Over, Here It Comes Again.” I’m surviving, but as I’m also approaching another major life marker, I’m a bit on the down side. That major marker being my Birthday and the “BIG Four Fuckin’ Oh.” Yep. The reality is I ain’t a young’in no more. I’m old. Hell... the fact that I’ve made it thus far after the past 6 years of intensely strange stuff in itself is a minor miracle. Two shrapnel wounds, a bionic kneecap and too many traumatic brain injuries to count later, The I.R. is more amazed that I’ve retained the barest mentality, and that I’m not in a home somewhere drooling all over myself whilst waiting on my mush. I mean hell, I can understand the whole ‘mortality’ thing better than most at this point. Some of my friends have been like “You should celebrate!” and I’m like “Shut the fuck up. What the fuck evar!” as I’m now feeling slightly bitter. 6 Years on near continuous field operations has me spent like a smoking shell casing left on the range. It’s hard to wake up in the morning facing 40, and coming to the realization that I’m still HERE as opposed to THERE with my wife and kids. Anyone for a nice, tall, cool, glass of ‘Haterade’ for breakfast hmmmn?

I mean from what I understand, it’s a normal thing for a guy like myself (formerly athletic, now ½ crippled by my standards) to be hatin’ on the four zero. I think I’m entitled to it. I mean shit, the guys who wake up in my mood at least are waking up in their own fucking hemisphere. In their own fucking bed… going to a job they may hate, but where the most dangerous thing they may have to face that day is a paper cut or a layoff. Me? No layoffs to foresee, not until we wrap Iraq up and put a bow on ‘er, but sheeeee-it…. I’d strangle a busload of Nuns in the Vatican to have a ‘normal’ lifestyle again.

Unfortunately, I’m faced with a thing called R-E-A-L-I-T-Y. A word that seems to elude small children, the mass media, the military and politicians alike. Reality is there isn’t a way for me to come home in this fucked up economy. Reality is short of a lottery win or finding the pot ‘o gold to pay off my huge-mongous mortgage means I’m stuck in the (temporary) tax free shooting galleries. That until the aforementioned politicians figure out how to rape me even more than they already have and tax the fuck outta me. Delusional is another word for those people, minus the small children… lil kids are supposed to be that way, whereas these demented motherfuckers whom I’m about to unload on, well, they get what they deserve IN SPADES.
Yeah… time to unlimber the “Rant-O-Thon.” Been a while but after reading the headLIES for the past couple of days, I’m ab-so-fucking-lute-ly done with being Mister nice I.R. I’m calling it like I sees it. My particular Rant of The Day is for the Mainstream Media LIARS and ASSHOLES who they are COVERING UP for. Specifically: Body Count.

A VERY sore subject for me. It’s like a hot knife through my heart to read about our U.S. Casualties. The fucking media vampires and scumfuck editors couldn’t get enough of splashing death and dismemberment of our brave troops on the headLIES and front pages when they were capable of dropping said bodies at the feet of the “Bushitler and Darth Cheney” and helping the Goddamned Code Pink Fuckstains. Yeah I’m heated. Why do you ask? Well lets see… we just had the SINGLE MOST amount of casualties in ONE day and the media has managed to ‘spread it around’ and, despite stating the “largest single loss of U.S. life,” it’s been played like nothing. Now granted, I’m not in the US, but the ‘play and spin’ on the major news media websites can give me a gauge as to how things are playing back home, and we DO get CNN and ABC on the AFN (Armed Forces Network) TV to show what’s happening back home. Right now? I’d have to say “Fuckin’ Bupkiss.”

14 Guys bought the farm in 2 count ‘em TWO Helicopter accidents. Now, the editor in the back waving his fucking pencil wants to say “Well I.R… they reported that.” Yeah? Well what about the 8… count ‘em EIGHT OTHER Joes who got blown the hell away by various I.E.D.s and attacks… all on THAT SAME DAY. Nevermind the announcement of the recovery of 3 contractor carcasses who got shot down three days before? Hmmn… they, the “Department of Propaganda” A.K.A. the Mass Media Myrmidons or “The Obamanation’s Mouthpieces” have very cutely sidelined it and spread the news around to make it LESS of an event. Can you IMAGINE the screaming foaming at the mouth uproar if such a mass-cas list was unveiled under the Bush admin? Granted we’ve all seen it before, but it really gets under my skin… That’s 22 guys/gals gone to the Final Formation with the Head Sky Pilot… Never mind the ‘mercs’ who bought it… add them in as legit casualties and you get 25 in one day… That’s ¼ of a hundred… a HELL of a lot of blood on the hands of the man who stated Monday: "While I will never hesitate to use force to protect the American people or our vital interests, I also promise you this—and this is very important as we consider our next steps in Afghanistan: I will never rush the solemn decision of sending you into harm's way," Obama said Monday during a visit to Naval Air Station Jacksonville. "I won't risk your lives unless it is absolutely necessary." (stolen from A.P., all rights reserved… for me that is, to shove it up the AP Editors Collective Asses if I ever meet the sonofabitches face-to-face.)

Lets break down that little Statement from the “Cow…er... Commander in Chief.”

1) “While I will never hesitate to use force to protect the American people or our vital interests, I also promise you this—and this is very important as we consider our next steps in Afghanistan: I will never rush the solemn decision of sending you into harm's way,"
I.R. Translation: “I won’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves, if the Lobbyists who pull my pathetic strings order me to. However, because there’s an election coming up, and I can’t afford to piss off the Nutroots of the Demon-cratic Party that elected me, I’ll put on the brakes as best I can.”

2) “I won't risk your lives unless it is absolutely necessary."
I.R. Translation: “Once the election is over, all bets are off, and you’re all cannon fodder again.”

Is it any wonder we’re having MAD Morale issues? I mean Holy Jumping Dog-Balls Batman! With statements like that, it’s amazing we haven’t seen more Joes just saying “Fuck it, Fuck you, and FUCK OFF.” The main reason is that these kids are FAR better trained and have been fucked over so much in the past 7 years that they are, for lack of a better word, used to being assfucked by the politicians and the media.

I’m waiting. I still maintain that eventually, these kids/men/women of the Armed Forces are going to FINALLY get tired of the lack of accountability and stupidity coming out of Sodom-on-the-Potomac. They’re going to come home and for lack of a better word, come home ALL SORTS of PISSED off. Heavily trained, and unemployed, the nightmare that the current Dot GOV should be thinking of is three words, modified from an ‘already happened in history’ moment. These being “Modern Bonus Army.”

For those of you, who don’t know your history; check the Wikipedia entry for “Bonus Army.” In the FIRST Great Depression, the unemployed homeless and indigent Vets from Dubbaya Dubbaya Uno made a HUGE homeless camp on the grounds of the Washington Mall. They wanted/needed their bonus money that had been promised to them early, and in response, a thoroughly terrified Political Class unleashed the US Army on them in direct violation of the Posse Comitaus Act. This, mind you was in 1932. Now, officially, the Posse Comitatus act doesn’t hold sway in D.C as it’s a Fed-Gov territory, and in reality, this’s the SECOND time that the Feds freaked when their Mil-Vets demanded financial remuneration. The first was in 1783 when the Pennsylvanian war vets marched on the then-capitol of Philly. The feds being feds set up the new Area of Operation A.K.A. Washington D.C. as exempt from Posse Comitatus so that they have the full power of the US Military as their tools to put down rebellion and insurrection… pretty slick of them I think…. Without it they’d be run out of town on a rail on a regular basis. That in itself wouldn’t be a bad thing. Who was it who said “"A little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical."? Jefferson I believe…

I’d have to say that if “The One” turns tail and hauls balls out of the ‘Wars’ the “Three Strikes You’re Out” rule might be in full effect. My own opinion is that the reason we’ve stayed on for so long in all of these wars is that they, the Political/Patrician/Elites/Ruling Classes have got to KEEP the military kids busy… if they don’t and we go to a ‘neutral corner’ so to speak, and what with the economy being in poor, nay ABYSSAMAL shape, then the LAST Thing they want is to let a quarter million HIGHLY SKILLED and WAR HARDENED veterans loose in America… Hence all of those reports that ‘slipped out’ calling on Homeland Security to keep an eye on Vets and the like… they, the fucking Fed-Gov have turned from being the “arbiter between the states” to being “Lord High and Overseers of Any and All Aspects of Your Lives so Shut up Peon, lest you be smited.”

Dunno about y’all, but I’ma getting tired of all the rules, regulations, expectations and bullshit that seems to be flowing like a broken sewage pipe out of D.C. Whatever happened to “Freedom?” I mean it’s sure as hell isn’t a ‘party thing.’ Political Parties, the “Repuboobicans” and the “Demoncrats” are strictly the means that the elites keep us divided and busy while they loot and rape us. And between the intentional dumbing down of our children in Public Schools, is it any wonder that any parent worth a shit is homeschooling these days? Even my 11 year old is aware of how retarded the school system is and DEMANDS to be taught at home. Hell, the threat of punishment in our house is “Do you WANT to go to school? We can sign you up and drop you off right now if you don’t behave!!!” Household Six only has to drive by the public school and point out to the kids that if they keep acting up, that THAT is where they were going to end up, with the dummies, malcontents and Mexicans. (As a side note: No bash on the Mexicans intended, but the illegal immigration in our A.O. is so bad that the school is running 50 to 60 kids PER CLASS and has to be bi-lingual because of insane overcrowding… due to this the quality of teaching is bottoming like a lead hulled boat, and the kids know it.)

Anyways... enough ranting for the moment. I gotta go to lunch.

OK Back from “The Ptomaine Palace” also known as “The Dagger Inn” or even now, the “Raider Inn.” Yep… how many name changes does a place go through? Too fucking many. When I first got here, the Camp I lived on was “North Victory.” Then just “Victory” Then, some asshole started calling it Camp Al-Taheer, or “Liberty”. This begat the split between “East Liberty” and “West Liberty,” as well as splitting East Liberty into the subheadings of “Camp Blackjack” and then, renaming it to, and not limited to, let’s see… “Tigerland,” “Ironhorse,” hmmm… and now, if to be believed,” “Camp Firesweep” whatever the fuck THAT means. One of my guys I work with thinks the “Firesweep” sign is more for identifying the Fire Department in the East Lib side, but it’s all the way up at the main entry to the area, mounted on the Main Entry Signframe that USED to say "Tigerland" or whatever, so until I’m told otherwise, I'm in an A.O. that sounds like a Gay Retreat off of Long Island.


Is it any wonder I feel sorta kinda schizophrenic on a near daily basis?
More later, if I have time or inclination… 26 Days and a Wakeup til the Big Four Oh. Man I hate getting old….

Until then, I remain, The Intrepid Reporter.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Despite being CENSORED...

Greetings from Baghdadland, formerly known as “The Saddamn-A-Go-Go!”
Now, to start this particular rant, I need to state that I’ve been advised by Council… namely my mouthpiece(s) (read my Lawyers… no joke) that my intel and such might be ‘tweaking the nipples’ of the FedCorpGov. My reaction to this is twofold:

First: Fuck ‘em.

If they can’t take a joke, then fuck ‘em. I’m not revealing ANYTHING OPSEC-wise. EVERY single thing I throw out here is generally filed under “been there-done that” and for the most part, the fucking “Dirty Haj” ™ know what they done did. It’s not like I’m going to give anything away that could adversely affect our operations here, and for sure I’m not telling anything until such time as I see it on the AP/Brietfart/Communist News Nutwork. As an aside… the editor, who’s been on a lovely hiatus wants to know what ‘OPSEC’ is… ok poindexter… for you, again, I’ll spell it out in cake-eating civvie terms so you don’t have to google it.

OPSEC is Operational Security. I.E. ANYTHING that could give critical info to the enemy. I TRY like hell to NOT give anything away in my rants, rambles and general verbal diarreah, but hell… generally in my experience (6 years now) the fucking Haj know more about what we’re doing than we are. I operate under the OPSEC rules as it not only keeps the ‘Joes’ alive, but is also responsible for keeping my favorite thing, namely my pretty oversized pink carcass, in one piece. Now, granted, giving up some info like that the Commanding General prefers to take his morning shit in “X” latrine at “Y” time is a violation of OPSEC, I try to avoid stating it… after all, I wouldn’t want the “Dirty Haj”™ dropping a round or setting a bomb off while I’m dropping the ‘morning deuce’ as every man / woman is entitled to a quiet morning grump. I mean only a TOTAL savage like the Haj would do something as dirty as that right?

Second: The blocking of my access to this webpage seems to be more of a ‘blanket policy’ since the Obamanation took over. Under the ‘Shrub’ I was able to rant and rave nonstop. These days, not so much. Seems the Neo-socialists out there feel that whatever info I provide (as well as others who use Blogspot dot com) is either detrimental, or they just want to shut up anyone who feels that we’re in deep shit, seeings that we’ve got a no-brained neophyte running things, and since “The One” took over casualties are skyrocketing. Haven’t heard much about that in the “Lamestream media” now have we? I mean it really pisses me off that under Bush, every casualty was waved like the proverbial “bloody shirt” as evidence of failed policy. Now that the Moron is in charge, we see nothing.

Fuck them motherfuckers is what I say.

If telling the truth is against the law, Costa Rica is looking that much better now.

To Whit: As courtesy to my concerned lawyers, I’ll start off by saying that said attack that I’m going to talk about was on Fox News, ABC, CNN and all the other plethora of dinosaur media. Difference is, I was there. We got hit a few nights ago… first time in a LONG time. We took some SEEEEEERIOUS incoming… which in “The Big Country Bible/Dic’nary” means more than 10 rounds in a 5 minute interval. The fucking dirty unwashed Haj lobbed them in 10 minutes after our Close In Weapons System was tested… that’s an insane 20 MM gatling cannon that used to be mounted on ships and is designed to shoot down cruise missiles… some wayward lunatic (of my make is my guess) figured out when we were getting pounded back in 03-04-05 by rockets and other mortar like bullshit that if it (the CIWS) could shoot down a fucking cruise missile moving at warp factor 5, why the hell can’t it shoot down a terminal velocity object like a rocket or mortar? Thus, as it was written, THE LORD shined down aponst the Navy Loons head, an IDEA was borne, and IT WAS GOOD.

They took the guns off of decommisioned destroyers and mounted them on flatbeds with it’s own generator. Looks a lot like an R2D2 with a big ole dick sticking out, but when this dick comes, it spews a wave of 20mm High Explosive Proximity BBs.

Needless to say, they test fire them, and the test fire lasts a few seconds worth of ammo… which translates to like the ENTIRE mag of 20mm. ( I have no idea in real life mind you) They waited til the test fire, and then 5 minutes later, before it could get reloaded, the fucking Haj Bastards dropped on us. No OPSEC violation there. THEY sure as hell knew what was going on as when the CIWS goes off, it can be heard for 20 + miles. Ain’t no lie there… when that fucker goes off, pray to God or ‘insert-diety-of-choice’ that you ARE NOT standing next to it, elsewise yer gonna need a hearing aid. Loud? No fucking shit Sherlock. I figure the fuckfaces had heard the test, and knew it was a good time to hit us.

I spent the majority of the rest of the night in the bunker, wearing only my helmet, shorts, t-shirt, flip flops, and sucking on a jug of my homebrew. Best way to ride out a shitstorm I’ve found is drunk as a fucking skunk. Figgered also the way I was dressed, ain’t no way St Michael (Guardian Saint of the Airborne and Special Forces) was gonna let me show up at the Pearlys looking like a ragbag/legg. I was generous passing around my squeezin’s as I’ve always been a giving soul, and I figgered also that was NOT the time to be hebrew in giving, seeings that if I DID by some chance get hit, if I didn’t share, the guys might not be so inclined to save my fat ass.

So then it’s begun

The drawdown means we’re getting kicked back to an “05” sort of timeframe, and what with “The One” in the White House bowing and scraping before all and sundry, the bad guys are feeling fucking frisky. No longer are they feeling like that “The Hammer of God” was to fall on them lest they make a stupid move, but more like “We can do it, and that joker ain’t gonna do shit about it.”

My call: McCrystal will resign inside of 4 moths if he’s not backed. Affy is decending into a Tribalistic Infatada/Jihad, and we’re now playing the role of the Russians/USSR circa 1983. I mean we’re dealing with a TOTAL guerrilla war, and we keep trying to frame it under conventional methods. God help me for saying so, but >shudder< Joe “Never go full retard” Biden has the right idea in that we should allow the SF to go in and culturally assimalate the Affy’s and work from within, to include growing beards and living like the locals. The ‘conventional model’ of warfare IS NOT GOING TO WORK in Affy. We’re talking tribalism at it’s core, which has outlasted the Brits (x2) The Indians (x2) and the Sovs (x1) and I have NO idea how they think that we’ll far any differently. Problem is that the ‘Cold War Warriors’ in the “Puzzle Palace on the Patomac” keep thinking inside the box, when it’s already been proven it doesn’t fucking work. The issue I’d have to say is most of the senior brass out there have a issue with being able to let the SF kids “off the leash” and because THEY themselves were never allowed to (I mean when did you ever hear outside of Special Forces dudes being allowed to have beards?) do the ‘fun outside the box stuff’ that they shy away from proper SF type missions.

Otherwise, I’m gonna keep this short. (For a change) but things here are hairy, and getting worse, seeings that “The One” is a total fuckup of the first order. My advice at this point would be he needs to make a decision, and stick with it.. this waffling and vaccilation in only causing our enemies to gain confidence. Right or Wrong, make a fucking choice Mister President. Us dudes/dudettes on the ground can NOT afford the luxury to wait otherwise.
Until my Next, I remain
The Intrepid Reporter

Monday, September 14, 2009

Baghdad to the US to Costa Rica and back...

Greetings and Que Pasa!!!
El Intrepid Reporter here, blogging again. Many moons have passed, and the Editor and Poindexter In Charge has taken a bit of a break, so I decided that tonight, as I’m in rare form, should take advantage of the situation, and Blog as far as things are, have been, and possibly might be. The wild whackness and weirdness that continually inhabit and infiltrate my life are yet again in full effect.

This time, the Reporter of Infinite Fame, Fortune and World Weariness is hitting you from Esparza, Costa Rica. I’m in town for Lil Country’s impending nuptials, which take place in 3 days as the clock states. I’m here in Central America as the “Best Man” as spurious a title as it may be, but, nonetheless, after a First Class flight (literally I’m saying… screw flying with the common folk anymore… bigger seats… better food… free booze… how the hell can I argue with that?) I’m ensconced in the bar that I have a 1/3rd ownership in, and am attempting to turn the ledger sheet red if I’m capable. Lord Knows I’ve been a ‘good boy’ lately, despite the inherent weirdness in Baghdad. More on that in a few. Point being, I’m melting Brain Cells by the friggin barrel load, and I also managed to become “walking wounded” within the first 4 hours in country.

OK: Hmmmn where to start: Well, lets go with Baghdad. Last time I blogged was many weeks ago… almost a month and a half truthfully. Unfortunately, if nothing is happening, and I’m bored, and there ain’t shytte to write about, I’ll go the easy route and say to hell with it. Not like I’m getting fucking paid for this anyways right? Well, all that changed 2 days before I was due to rotate home on R&R. (Not the pay thing… the local sit-rep) This, as the long term followers of my writings (pre-blog) know that this is a familiar situation. Every. Single. Time. It gets fucking old. Every time I’m going on R&R, no matter what time of year, the fucking Haj decide that “this time” is the “perfect time” to start lobbing rounds / actively trying to kill us infidels. It started early one morning with a world class explosion. World Class means, in the IR book, strong enough to rouse me from a dead vodka-induced coma. The explosion made international news. The “Dirty Haj” took advantage of the whole goat rope that the change of “US Troops to Iraqi Troops” and nuked a whole fucking neighborhood. Like 79 people KIA’d but probably more, as the counting of the bodies with a bomb THAT big is usually, at the morgue, a situation of “How many Left Arms do you have? We need a body count of casualties.” Sort of gruesomeness that I’m happier to avoid. I mean how the fuck do you get an accurate count when an ENTIRE neighborhood gets vaporized? It brings back memories and thoughts of Dresden and Hiroshima and Nagasaki. No one will ever know exactly how many died, and the way theses dudes hit the block, same principle can be applied.
So yeah, here I am, crashed out, dead to the world in a magnificent Harem Inspired dream (tell me I haven’t been in Iraq too fucking long eh?) and I get jolted right out of the fucking bunk. As in physically thrown out of the fucking rack. Talk about a “Hey what the fuck?” moment…

SO yeah, I “got the fuck outta Dodge” ASAP, and got home. Home… what a wonderful place… as long as the Household Six isn’t in full on rage at the Spawn for misbehavior… Yeah… the kids are at that tender age when they think backtalking, smart mouthing and generally being little assholes is in ‘vogue.’ Seems this’s a regular thing these days when I’m gone, but I’m hoping to crush this little rebellion like a 40 pound maul on a cockroach: decisively and brutally. Gotta keep the Six happy don’t ya know? But after momentarily threatening grievous bodily injury and/or crippling them they seemed to behave, up until I split for LC’s wedding here in Costa. I wasn’t out of the country 12 hours and they were acting the goat, being all jacked and racked. Difference is the Lil Basterds forgot I’m only on a 4 day bounce shot, with a return that promises to be a real Smackdown when I get there.

So: here I am in Paradise. Not a bad place actually, Costa Rica is laid back, chill, humid and covered with more Greenery than Florida. Real life rainforests, giant assed lizards that are reminiscent of the Iguanas I had to deal with in Guantanamo Bay, and currently, one hell of a Thunder Boomer Storm that’s knocked out the power, so’s I’ll have to be posting this later. The Casa Of the Red Neck as the crib is called, is a botanical garden spot after the past 5 years in fucking Iraq. Avocado trees, lemon trees, lime trees (who knew?) banana trees and even coconuts are growing right in the yard. When Lil Country offers you fresh produce at his table, you can be damned sure it was picked right out of the tree. Another aspect of being here is the beer. Damned good beer. Imperial Silver being my current brewskie of choice. It’s the National Beer of Costa Rica and comes in Silver or just straight Imperial. To be honest, I got me a hunch that the guy who started the brewery > might < have been one of the “Sieg Heil” escapees from old Dubbya Dubbya Dos. The beer is a first rate Bavarian, and the symbol for it is a what appears to be a modified Austrian/Hapsburg Royal Eagle. I’m not casting ANY aspersions, but it does seem awfully convenient that the beer here is a german style brew with what appears to be an Imperial German Eagle (slightly stylistically modified of course) but man? I wanna ask the founder: “Where were you in ’42 Mien Herr?”

(Lil Country notes: The 3 main beers of Costa Rica were originated by German Ex Pats)

So anyways, as far as the local brew-ha, I’m in like Flint. Good stuff, and Lil has stocked the cooler with approximately 10,000 bottles in 2 giant coffin sized coolers. I’d say that should take me through the weekend, and if not, well, Imperial delivers much like the milk man. Leave a case of empties (24 in a hard plastic case) out on the front porch, and the Beer Man comes by and drops off a fresh case. Good thing they don’t have that in the States as I’d be trying to break records for “single largest empty/reload in history” But, OK: as we go: Tonight was a good party… Lil Country’s Grandma, Great Aunt, Father and a couple of other relations thrown in for the mix. I spent most of my night regaling them with stories of Lil and Me and Middle (yep even Middle Country made a showing) back in the day and the sort of trouble we used to get in. It was all in good fun, and I’m sure I horrified that nice ole lady, but she was laughing her ass off all night, as were we all, so it wasn’t that bad… The only negative was I took a tumble. Yep… the Old I.R. of poor co-ordination and even worse balance was in full effect. And this BEFORE I began boozing in earnest. I was sober, but missed a small step on the back bar. Head over ass over teakettle. Damned near destroyed my right knee, and gave myself killer road rash on the left knee, as well as breaking the knuckle on my right hand. I really know how to party these days… I swear, any more tumbling, and I’m going to start using a walker when I’m boozing. So anyways, this all was before the night began… I ass ended myself, and mutilated myself pretty well, and as I lay there, bleeding, Middle Country races over to check the concrete. “Whew… damn Big, I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t’ve done gone and shattered that!!!”

Gee… Thanks a lot asshole.

On retrospect, it was a funny comment, and yeah, I did shake the house when I hit, but damned man… kick a brother when he’s down… that’s cold. The bonus in all this self flagellation was that Lil’s wife to be was worried when the old right kneecap swelled to about 5 times the norm, and so she called in a doctor. Yep. Full on house call. I was impressed that they even do that shit, but within 40 minutes, a nice dude (Jerry I think his name was) in full surgical scrubs and a bag right out of the movies shows and proceeds to check me over. A few prods, couple of pinches, a few of me screaming “OOOOWWW!!! That hurts man!!!” and out he whips Mr. Magic Morphine Needle.
Yay! Nothing sez “Good Times Ahead” than getting a ½ a grain of Morphine or one of the many mix-it-up derivatives. A quick stick and pull, and all of a sudden, I could have been physically on fucking fire, and I wouldn’t have given a shit. Knee? What knee? Pass me the beer. All I wanted was to be propped up at the bar with a beer within reach. This also was the EXACT diagnosis that Jerry or whatever the hell his name is/was/is going to be was that I should stay in a chair, knee elevated and beer to “help with the pain.”

MY kind of doctor let me tell you.

Also: The cost of this little adventure? Lets round it out… one housecall, complete with medication and a script. Any guesses? Try around $6 yes SIX United States Dollars. Yep. To hell with socialized medicine or whatever that lame assed President or whatever have to say… gimme them Costa Docs any day of the week. In the US I’d expect at least a grand to start… just to get a fucking sawbones to the house would have to offer like my first born, and indentured servitude to the insurance company for the next 500 years, and oh yeah, my soul probably on top of it. In Costa? I mean talk about a killer time. The funniest part was since my future sister-in-law is friends with Jerry, he decided to help prop me up in a barstool and we then spent the next few hours drinking our asses off. I mean not only does he do housecalls, he stuck around to keep me company while I got shitfaced. Now THAT is service!

So that rounds out the first night, or at least my part in it. It’s all sort of hazy at that point, as the Morphine kicked in, as well as the beer and ‘other’ recreational materials that are legal there, and the only other aspect of the night was the “Night of the Mariachis” which, I think personally sounds like a Mexican horror show complete with a Guitar wielding Mass Murderer in a cheesy suite covered with Spangles. Well, I guess it’s a Costa Tradition that the groom to be serenades the bride to be from the front door, and seeing that Lil Country can’t sing anything but “Margaritaville” (and that’s NOT the song you want to woo a broad with) so he hired a roving band-o-mariachis to do the singing for him. Yeah… and unfortunately, these guys weren’t the ‘cool’ mariachis from “El Mariachi” or “Desperado” (think gun toting guitar cases and such…. Only I could think that’d be the ‘cool mariachis’) Try the “Cheesy Mister Mustashio’d Mariachi Man” with bad pelvic thrusts and even cheesier shirts. I know it’s a tradition, but DAMN. Bad porno style mustache, and playing a guitar and singing in Spanish loud enuff to wake the fucking dead. I mean he was loud enough to bellow out and wake my ass from a narco-induced beer haze to the point where I gimped out and caught him on video. I’m glad I did, or I might have written off the entire episode to the drugs and booze.

OK: So I passed out… the video I shot at the time of myself shows a sweat soaked IR sitting in the midst of loud trumpets and even louder partying, which that I can tell, was a smashing success, and judging from the incomprehensible mumbling and rambling such of a “Fear and Loathing in Costa Rica” type that it’s obvious we had a great time. The next day, well… it wasn’t bad, but it was challenging to say the least to rise from the dead and roll. The wedding practice was fun too… I got to see another culture and how they throw down for a party… this makes now a German Wedding (back when I was stationed there) an Egyptian wedding (back on vaykay in Luxor) and now a Costa Rican wedding/Central American wedding. Out of them all, to include the standard American wedding, the Costa Wedding tops out on the top for radically good times.

They did the traditional High Catholic Mass for the wedding itself. OK… I’m catching heat from the pencilnecked editor on my timeline… Now, mind you… the scattershot approach I’m having to writing this down is primarily as I’m somewhere in the “simian” category for brain power right now… Fucking Neanderthal man has more brains available to him than I do… that critical fluid that envelops the brain to keep it safe from impact and shock? Mine’s been replaced with 100 proof and beer. Lots and lots of beer. I’m not exactly on the razor’s edge right now… unless said razor was dragged behind a car down a gravel road for a bit…. That’s more my speed at this point… so where was I?

Oh yes… well the wedding itself… It was held in a small church at the top of a big assed mountain. Which leads me to yet another tangent: Everything in Costa Rica is either on a mountain, going up a mountain, or right at the seashore. Finding level ground here is a fucking jo0b in itself. EVERYTHING is on a hillside, going up or down is about what you do. You want level? Go to the beach. Of course that’s as soon as you get down the fucking mountain. Mountains covered in rainforest mind you… pretty as hell, but thank goodness there’s roads cause I sure as hell wouldn’t want to do it the ‘old fashioned’ way with machete and breaking brush. How they ever settled half of these places is a miracle in itself. So anyways… oh yeah… Church… Mountain…wedding… ah yeah as we last left our hero and his doomed bro: Well one good thing was the Church was Saint Michael’s. As in the patron Saint of Paratroopers. Lil Country took this as an AWESOME portent for the marriage and for the future, seeing that the last two went down in hurtling flames and such. The front had a etched picture of St Mikey crushing the living shit out of a demon or something, and looking pretty mellow while performing said act of divine retribution. The etching was pretty vivid… I didn’t get a picture of it as since I had to be best man, I thought it’d be in poor taste humping and schlepping a big assed camera all over, and that seeing I had to escort the Maid of Honor (a chick I call “Camel-toe”for reasons I’ll explain in a bit) I thought leaving the Kodak moments to others was the proper thing to do. So yeah, it was a threateningly almost rainy day…. The sun started out nicely, but the cloud cover rolled in as the ceremony started. I wasn’t too concerned, but the Bride Lindsey would have been heartbroken had the skies opened up. Thankfully we got a break, and the rain held off until the reception.

The ceremony, well I won’t bore you with particulars, as needless to say it was a High Holy affair with the priest either confirming or admonishing the congregation (tough to say as my Spanish ain’t so good) but his tone carried conviction, and they had all the whistles and bells in all the right places, even if the language wasn’t what I cottoned onto for a Catholic mass. The ritual cannibalism (“this’s my body, eat me” or words to that effect) went off without a hitch and there wasn’t any sign of lightning bolts at either Me, Middle or Lil C, so I guess all was well in the world and God was cool with what was going down. Leastways I didn’t by some miracle burst into flames when crossing the threshold of the church, and didn’t get burned by holding the cross, so all’s well that ended well.

Like I said, thankfully the rain held off until the reception… which was a gas. It was held in the roller rink of the town in Esparza. It was the biggest open space that could be found in the AO for the party, and man, it was friggin PACKED. Must have been at least 400 plus packed in there, and did I mention the heat? Ah… seems I overlooked that little note.

This gets it’s own paragraph. Does the word “Equator” mean anything to you? How about “ Under the magnifying glass?” Not as in being looked at closely, but as in “Scorching the hell out of you hot” and humid? Yeah… I mentioned rainforests earlier. Jungle… wet jungle. Wet hot assed soaking in your own juices hot. Not Iraq hot which is scorching and dry, but this’s Viet Nam hot… Jungle Hot… Tarzan stuff…. I went through an average of 3 shirts a day… soaked in perspiration… gross I know but such is life at the equator… Thank GOD John’s house was fully equipped with washer and dryer or I woulda been out of clothes after 2 days. I mean there’s sweating and then “looking like you fell into the fucking pool fully dressed” sweating… either way a definite exchange of environments.

Enough for now… I’m too hungover and burned to continue… More later... I remain, the Intrepid Reporter.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Pirates and Iraq Upates

Ok Dear Readers… I’m back and feeling better… the workload has been upswinging (is that a word?) and the Old Intrepid Reporter is out doing his gigs on a regular basis, attempting to maintain sanity and status in driving himself to an early grave. Baghdad has seen a bit of an uptick in the ultraviolence, but not to worry me Droogs… Ye Olde I.R. of fame and lore is safe and sound on Base.

Seems the stuff as of late has been concentrating downtown in the typical “Shiite Versus Sunni” Deathmatch, and the favorite tools of the tools in question are indiscriminate Car Bombings and such. Myself? I say we do an open invitational… get all the guys who have a beef on both sides WAY out on the edge of nowhere. The location wouldn’t have to be too far… the friggin country is a wasteland once you leave the cities… Round them all up and drop them off in a 20 mile by twenty mile enclosure, and then air drop a pile of machetes and such whatnot edged weapons in the center of the containment area. Fence it off with 20 foot high T-walls and tell them it’s a case of “Thunderdome” to the extreme.

Two/Three/However many teams enter, only one can leave. Whoever wins gets to run the show.

Problem is, these jokers for the most part these days are cowards. They use little kids to do the dirty work that they are too cowardly to do themselves. In the entire time I’ve been over here, I’ve witnessed AND participated in too many incidents where only ONE American, Singular, Beef Fed, True God Believing/Fearing Type One Each has it out with 5 or more Hajjis. In my case... it was the other night when I went out for a cold beer and a dinner in Baghdad. Two of the waiters decided to beef, and then all holy hell broke loose.

I was there with my bro from back in 04, codenamed “Grumpy” as he’s a retired First Shirt who thinks the Army has gone to hell in a handbasket. He’s only a few years older than I am, but salty? Can you say Dead Sea salty? Grumpy thinks that these guys are too pampered, what with the ‘net, sat-phones, AC and all that other jazz that we NEVER had in Gulf One (yeah… remember that one?) so he tends to be sort of grumpy and pissed off on a regular basis, (hence the codename) and has what’s been referred to as the “Poo-Face.” The Poo-Face being the look a father gets the first time he opens up a diaper for the first time, and gets a load of what his prodigy has sprung forth. Yep… The Poo-Face.

Well, long story short: The bar went into “Mayhem Mode” and I got pissed off when my $22 steak ate the floor. Up to that point, I was going to stay the fuck out of it, as messing in a Bar in Baghdad when the Locals decide to get frisky can be potentially lethal. However, when the steak got rendered Hors De Combat, it was on like Donkey Kong… Or maybe King Kong? Whatever…. Anyways, I jumped up and waded in and, with Grumpy at my back we had the shitfest settled in about 45 seconds. Can’t really say that I blame them… I roared in a Drill Sergeant voice “AT THE FUCK EASE!!!!” as I waded in, and which I’m sure that they didn’t understand, but they DID get that the 340 pound six foot four American Gorilla was perturbed and was choke slamming motherfuckers to the floor left and right.

You’ve NEVER seen a room mellow and clear so fast.

Needless to say, dinner was on the house, as well as all the beer I wanted. The Maître d was falling all over me… I swear it had to be Man-Love Thursday or something because this guy kept giving me the Ay-Rab kiss on both cheeks (how French!) and offering me a job. I told him he couldn’t afford me. (man... now I sound like the whore I am!) I mean hell do I look like I want to become the “Dalton” of Baghdad? Hell no!

Ok… the editor has been heard from, and to clear up the obscure reference and to quiet the geek down, the Dalton line is a throwaway from the Patrick Swayze ‘Roadhouse’ movie where he plays a ‘cooler’ (I guess that’s slang / kool-dood lingo for a professional bouncer) named Dalton. This dude here wanted me on as nightly security. Fun is fun, but damned if I don’t not get enough sleep as it is.

So otherwise, while perusing and sliding around the ‘net I found this gem that I lifted shamelessly from the brit Daily Mail website… (my comments are in the parenthesis.)

Luxury yachts offer pirate hunting cruises
Luxury ocean liners in Russia are offering pirate hunting cruises aboard armed private yachts off the Somali coast. (Sounds fun! Where and who do I have to talk to to sign up? Can we take friends? I'm sure Bob Owens from Confederate Yankee would love to go! How about a group package deal?)

Wealthy punters pay £3,500 per day to patrol the most dangerous waters in the world hoping to be attacked by raiders. (A bit on the pricey side but still….)

When attacked, they retaliate with grenade launchers, machine guns and rocket launchers, reports Austrian business paper Wirtschaftsblatt. (OH HELL YEAH!!!! Git some!!!)

Passengers, who can pay an extra £5 a day for an AK-47 machine gun and £7 for 100 rounds of ammo, are also protected by a squad of ex special forces troops. (Wonder if they will give me a discount as I don’t need a former Spetnaz bodyguard, and do they have a bulk ammo discount? I mean if I get to go, and go ‘live’ I’m planning on eating up the proverbial Metric Fuck-ton of ammo)

The yachts travel from Djibouti in Somalia to Mombasa in Kenya. (Getting there is half the fun I suppose)

The ships deliberately cruise close to the coast at a speed of just five nautical miles in an attempt to attract the interest of pirates. (Ye Olde “Bait and Switch”…I LOVE IT! Just like the British Navy used to do with “Q” boats to take out U-Boats… make the fuckers think you’re a lamb, then show them that yer the wolf!)

"They are worse than the pirates," said Russian yachtsman Vladimir Mironov. "At least the pirates have the decency to take hostages, these people are just paying to commit murder," he continued. (wah wah wah...And of course, a killjoy has to be heard from… How much you bet Mr. Vlad The Yachtsman has a small arsenal to protect himself on his tub?)

Is that the GREATEST piece of marketing you’ve ever heard of? Legalized Terrorist Hunting! Talk about a brilliant “The Best Offense is a Good Defense” kind of thing… I mean for real… They attack, and expect to ransom you or your boat. What to do? Go out and lure them in, and cull them. It’s magnificently Darwinian in many ways. Free enterprise at work! Only the truly desperate or retarded would now think about hitting a cruise ship in the East African Ocean… Oh well Stupid is as stupid does I suppose. I mean it frees up any and ALL governments from looking like bullies, and helps elimnate a pesky problem.

And for the bleeding hearts out there who say “But they are so poor and it's America's fault yadda yadda…” Hey… Fuck you. After seeing the Iraqis bounce back, the only reason the Somalis don’t get their shit together is that they’re a bunch of ignorant malcontents who live on the hard work of others, as well as our food donations. Their tribal chiefs LIKE the situation and don't want to change it because they are in charge... rebuilding and reorganizing means they'd have to give up their little fiefdoms, and there ain't no WAY they are going to allow that. Hell we have the same issue brewing back in the states... Ever heard of "Term Limits" Senator Kennedy? Hell, the first thing these tin-pot shitheads do when they take over a country is line the intelligentsia of the nation against a wall and summarily execute them. I just wish all those neo-sixties retreads teaching in our hallowed halls could see that. The first people on the 'disposal' lists are those who empowered them to begin with. For historical facts, look at Pol Pot, Stalin, Mao and the current "Gargoyle of the Year" Dear Leader Kim "Kid N Play Called: He Wants His Hairstyle Back" Il-Jong.

Either way, I should really look into starting up my own little business like this… I mean for real… talk about a potential cash cow. And it’s all legal. The laws of defending oneself on the ocean has LONG been established. So fucking what if they are making money off of “murder.” I don’t see it as murder by a long shot… more like pest control and eradication. I think I’ll see if Lil Country is up for this for his honeymoon… it’d sure be a cruise to remember!

Until the next writing bug bites… I’m gonna hit the fartsack and count nekkid wimmen. Until then I remain, The Intrepid Reporter.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Rebel Rouser

Yes folks.... The IR back again with the latest and greatest from Iraq... but in this case, Iraq takes a sideline. My dad, as those of you know, cashed in this past month, and truthfully, it's been a bitch for the ole Intrepid Reporter to have much to say... those who know me have been in shock, and many have emailed me asking "What the fuck?"... well I'm here to tell you, the verbal abuse I had was directly influenced by the Old Man, and in his passing, I just have had one hell of a time being able to write. Call it the "Death of my Muse/Father." Dad didn't teach me much to be honest...his athletic skills rated right up there with a retarded child in a wheelchair and the only things he ever really taught me how to do, as well as FedBro (my baby brother) was how to drive and shoot, and most improtantly, how to WRITE.

Thusly, its a motherfucker to try and capture the moment, but thankfully due to lugubrious amounts of liquid mind lubricant (Smirnoff 100 proof) that I'm now capable of formulating a coherent thought. The title of this blog is "Rebel Rouser." This is a Duane Eddie classic rock song that, since the Old Man cashed, has been my 'monument' to him in that, as a child of the 50's, Dad LOVED Duane Eddie, and the music that was produced. Every time I start getting ripped, I play it, and hoist one for the Old Man, and hopefully, somehwhere, he's smiling, and if we're lucky, he's hoisting right along side of me.

The othe reason for this post, well... truthfully, one of the few things that was passed on to me, well, as stupid as it sounds, was his ability with a Zippo. Yep. The Old Man, being a child of the "smoking generation" was the ability to manipulate a Zippo Lighter like a fucking Ninja with Nunchucks. I was getting plastered about 15 minutes before this (truth being I'd been getting hammered all night) but the realization that I had my "Countries INC" lighter (Zippo, type one each) and was flipping it, whipping it, and generally doing what would be considered 'bar tricks' with it, whe it hit me, "Hey... here's another thing the Old Man taught me."

Once I realized it, it was like a ephiphani. Dad, being a "Doctor of Some Literary Rupute" (published in like 60 languages and 148 countries), that his true worth was more to me in his day-to-day things that, at the time, seemed minor, but now have a great impact. I'm a ninja master of the Zippo because of him. And it's something, being that my baby bro has never nor EVER will be a smoker, is sort of a 'secret club member' with him. I mean my baby bro ALWAY had cars with Dad, and I was barely a motorhead to say the least, but having this ONE thing that was shared to me, well Hell, its special. Iknow to those of you you who are out there say "So fucking what?", but to me, the ability to one-hand-snap-and-light has new meaning to me, and now, ya'll can look forward to more postings, as I think I've now buried the demons of the past behind me.

Best Regards until my next, I remain, the Intrepid Reporter

Saturday, May 23, 2009

...and Back in Baghdad...

OK friends and neighbors. Back again. This time with a legit update on casual observations I’ve made here in the Land of The Baghdad Café. Ye Olde Intrepid Reporter had a tough one, what with his Dad getting a bad case of the “deads” and all, but seeing that I’ll be home shortly to celebrate his life and see my wife and kids, that about evens the score. So, as the late great Paul Harvey used to say…”Stand by…for NEWS!”

One observation in the ‘supposed’ drawdown is the uptick in Iraqi military activity. I’m not giving any secrets away because even the bloody insurgents can tell the difference between the US troops (grey-digital ACU uniforms) and the Iraqis, (desert tan old style US camo) Seems that the Iraqis, from my observations, are getting more ‘hot n heavy.’ A few weeks ago I was on Route Irish, formerly known by Newsweek magazine as “The SINGLE most DANGEROUS section of highway in the known Universe” (quick aside: my how things have changed!) and as I rolled down the pockmarked pavement, what should I see but a convoy of Iraqis.

Not just any convoy tho. I counted one T-72 Echo model, one T-55 with IR spotlight and night vision variant, two BMP-1 export models, a World War II vintage armored car and an MT-LB Command Track all being moved on what appeared to be the old US Army prime mover flatbeds. Now at first, I thought that these were more ‘trophy’ vehicles. To explain, the Army LOVES taking and shipping the old armor that the Iraqis either abandoned or lost to us and sending it back home so they can park it in front of the Unit’s buildings as a “See what we captured?” For the most part it’s bullshit, heaping , steaming, type: many each. The unit “captured” in that they went down to a muddy field where the tank/apc/whatever has been sitting since the Haj abandoned it in 2003, dug it out of the mud, slapped a fresh coat of paint on it, and then bring it back home to the States to display in some byzantine display of “pseudo-military prowess on the battlefield” Anyways, I digress per usual:

The stuff I was seeing was completely refurbished. As in if not factory new, at least depot-level refinished. Now to those of you just arriving, you may ask “Hey Big Country, how do you know what those tracks were?” Well, for the pencil waving editor, I’ll provide the following. My first MOS (military occupational specialty a.k.a. as my job) was 11 H or Hotel, which was Heavy Anti-Armor Weapons Infantryman. Means I was a tank-killer, and that tank identification was and still is my bread and butter. How many guys do you know who were given a complete set of “Janes All The Worlds Armor” identification books for Christmas? And I don’t mean the little paperback jobbies… but the gorilla two-grand- a-book ID books that even some libraries have trouble getting. Mom and Dad thought they were the PERFECT gift for their lunatic TOW-Gunning son of a gun. Ergo, I’m a fucking expert who still as a hobby lives and breathes Armor ID.

Now, the interesting part on this was as the same day I saw the tanks being moved downtown, I also saw something that reflexively froze my blood in my veins. I was on my way out to Sather when I heard a helicopter overhead. Now, being here for 5 years, I can tell you much like any Vietnam vet can tell you if it’s a Huey overhead or not. I can pretty much distinguish between a Blackhawk, Kiowa, Apache, and a Chinook. On occasion, there are the odd Hueys, being Bell 206’s that the Iraq Government uses, but this time it was different… A deep resonant bass sound… Loud… make that LOUD!!! And thevibration emanating ran from my chest to my inner ear it was so deep and loud. I looked up.. and what do my eyes behold:
A Hind. A motherfucking Hind… Mi-24D model… The reason we developed the AH-64. A pure-d BADASS mo’fo of a Warbird. The Bane of the Afghan Mujadaheen (back when we wuz still buddies) up until we gave them the Stinger MANPAD (typical jihadist… no sense of loyalty or gratitude) and when I was in the Army, the feared and preferred weapon of out adversary, which makes a distinct sound when flying at you… Flying in Iraqi colors no less!

Seems between the Heavy Armor and the Hinds I’ve seen cruising around lately, one of two things are happening. One is that the Iraqis are beefing up and not going to take any more shit from anyone or Two, well…

Hell… I got nothing. The amount of firepower that I’ve seen the Iraqis fielding lately is immense, and I HOPE bodes well for our guys starting to ramp down. Granted the Maliki Government doesn’t want us to go, seeing that there are ten thousand political parties/loyalties here and this government is pretty weak in the hinterlands, but the Iraqi Military might be getting into a position to take over. I mean with the firepower they are accruing, it sure is as hell possible we might see a “Saddam the 2nd” except under the guidance of the “Kinder Gentler” United States and whatever puppet is currently in charge there. It could happen. The majority of Middle Eastern States LIKE having a strongman in charge… ye olde ‘velvet covered iron fist’ ideal. I guess we’ll just have to watch and see, and see what cooks over the next few months.

Stay tuned as it’s bound to be interesting.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Dr. Dad.....May19, 1942 to May 6th 2009

With great sadness I announce the passing of my father, Dr. Dad. at 1055am on Wednesday May 6th, 2009. He died peacefully and slipped away while I was on the phone with the family... he waited until we were all together. I’m staying on here, per his wishes, and Mom is being supported by #2 Son , His wife and Household Six. There will be a Celebration of his Life in New Hampshire at a time to be determined. I leave with this prayer written by my brother in arms, “Lil Country”: :
Subject: for your father

Hail Mary,
Full of Grace,
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,
and blessed is the fruit
of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary,
Mother of God,
pray for us sinners now,
and at the hour of death.


Our Father, who art in heaven
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those
who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever.


Lord our Father, please watch over Bill Sr. the father of my best friend. Keep him well at your side with his faithful companion Bomber. Understand his faults and forgive him his vices. He is a good and honorable man and he will stand at your side when he is called from this world. Knowing his son as I do I ask you try not to irritate him, the Irish have such ill tempers. If you feel the need to tame his spirit, a few shots of whiskey should suffice. His council will be indispensable as I am sure you know, after all, you did make him the man he is. Please guard his soul among your most cherished so that when his family arrives at your gates he and Bomber will be there to welcome them.
I ask this of you in the name of the father, the son and the holy spirit,


I'm staying on here in Baghdad. Dad, when I saw him last on R&R pretty much said that we're not going to let anything like his death stop me from completeing the Mission. Charlie Mike. F.I.D.O. Fuck it. Drive on. Hard as hell, but necessary, as I'm STILL cleaning up the mess here from my R&R.

Cancer ate him up. I'm actually happy for him, if thats the correct term, nay, relieved as well that his suffering is over. I guess it was really bad at the end. Now, as Middle Country said, "He walks with the Angels."

Myself, I prefer Rhah from the movie "Platoon" and his philosophy: “And if there's a heaven and God I hope there is, I know he's sitting up there, drunk as a fucking monkey and smoking shit. Because he left his pains down here.” I'll miss you Dad.

More later... I had a LONG one I was working on the night before he died, and I'll throw it up later when it's appropriate. Until then, Peace, and tell your parents you love 'em while you can.

Monday, April 6, 2009

WTF? Home? Iraq had less problems...

OK Dear and Gentle Reader, The Intrepid Reporter is back and has all sorts of 'fun from the home front' stuff going on. Needless to say, I made it home for my well deserved R&R (Rest and Relaxation to you civvies) or my historical fave, I&I (Intercourse and Intoxication) both of which I've been attempting at a new land-speed record. Household Six and the Chilluns have been thrilled to have me home, but nonetheless, there have been a few 'wrinkles' in an otherwise pristine time.

What? Problems you say? Problems? Aye... A whooooole LOTTA identity theft of the I.R. and specifically my bank/debit Credit Card. Seems that for the past 5 years I've been bouncing around the Middle East and dealing with "The Ali Baba Credit and Trust" banks of the area. The Baghdad International Federal Credit Union issued me a personal draft good up to 40 Million Iraqi Dinar (which is worth about 450 pesos or 12 US Dollars when rounding up on the centavos, 'course if I get it in Canadian Dollars, we're talking enough to get a 12 Pack of Molson lite!) So anyways... here's the ole I.R. on vay-kay and I go and use my debit here stateside. Now the only issue I've ever had was ye Ole Bank of America sometimes freaks when my location changes, as in at 9am US Time I charge something in Kuwait, and then 10 hours later, I'm running a bar tab in the airport at Dulles. Usually a 2 minute call to the security folks is good enough to wrap up any questions, but this morning was a special case.

Now those of you following this here reportage know that I've discovered various watering holes in and around Baghdad. Another sure sign of a building economy is the "Intrepid Reporter Economic Progress Theory of Bar Expansion and Alchohol Availability." This Macroeconomic Theory dictates that the Success of an Economy can be Measured in A) Quantity of Boozing Locales and B) Quality of Beverage Available. The more places available = the more money being spent on booze and the quality of booze available = the more money people are willing to spend to get the "good stuff." Kuwait being a prime indicator of the facility of B) in that a bottle of Johnny Walker Black runs $200 a liter. But anyways, It'll need work, but suffice to say, I've been drawing $$$ USD specifically from the various ATMs and kiting checks through the on post exchange to insure a steady cash flow to insure proper lubrication of my synapses. In kiting the checks, I've been monitoring my check flow thru the web on a daily basis to insure that I don't bone the check cashing ability in that if you ricochette one with AFFES, you lose the $100 daily ability they provide.

Imagine my shock this morning when on opening the account, I find I'm in the hole over $300. This from a balance of over $2K. Looted you say? Aye I say... Yeah... Howabout them fuckin Apples? I spend years all over the world in the Center of Shady Central and I get ganked here in the Homeland? Fucking nice huh? Needless to say I went into "Red Alert: Money is missing" mode and called everyone and anyone and rifled through 40 different fraud departments and got damned near 80 % of the bogus charges KIA'd before they got spent out. The only problem was they wouldn't tell me who specifically or where specifically said bogus calls/charges came in from. I do KNOW that it's in Massachusetts from where one person slipped, but they did say I'd need a subpoena to get said info. Unfortunately, thats not a good idea in that my way of dealing with this would be the $99 flight into Boston and show up whatever Ghetto these scumfucks live in, and give them like 30 minutes to shit say, $50,000 USD or I'd have to kill them. Yeah, extortion and hell, considering how they pissed me off, I'd kill them out of hand anyways.

Eh... the only thing that'd be bad is having to dispose of the corpses. In Iraq, carcass-disposal means leaving a body in an orange jumpsuit minus a casaba. The Military and Dirty Haj take care of it from there. The military cleans it up, and the Dirty Haj take the blame, gleefully from what I've seen. Those assholes even tried to make a claim on the mass shooting at the Immigrant Center in New York.... Silly Haj, Massacres like that are done by homegrown psychos, not radical Islamic Wierdbeards. The average "wants to get into Paradise" fuckhead understands that if they WERE in fact to go after a 'soft target' like a mall or something "Mom and Apple Pie" like that, that we'd be all out in a bloodfest against them. THATS why I think they haven't done anything like that. Fact of the matter, the reason they DON'T go for the soft targets is that, besides the "Blue States" that generally are filled with their "Hug a Fucking Commie" filthy Anti-American bastions, the only thing left are Pro-American Red States, and the odds of them getting to cause mass mayhem are pretty slim, as generally the gun-toting folks (like myself) are armed to the teeth, and would live for a chance to slowly shoot one of the "Allahfucks" to pieces. I know I would. If they DID go after a Mall, in say Brookline MA (home to one of the LARGEST jewish populations outside of NYC) then the People of the Socialist Republic of Taxachusetts wouldn't be able to wring their collectivist hands at the oppression of the Hamas and other such things.... Killing Liberals only makes other Liberals into Conservatives, and we can't be having that now, Achmed can we? After all, the old saw of "A Liberal is a Conservative who hasn't been mugged yet." stands hard on that.

More later... I watch the unfolding "Mad Minute Massacres" nationwide with both horror and a sense that we're only seeing the beginning. Keeep your powder dry and remember that I told you here first that this's only the beginning of the "Summer of Madness"... More later y'all!

Sunday, March 29, 2009


Whooo. OK How many days since my last posting? When was the last time I had internet? How about fucking hot water? Geez... So much has happened, and yet not. Well, lets get to the story as it stands now... Your Intrepid Reporter is in Baghdad, Land that Sanitation and Good Manners Forgot, and will be for the next 24 hours. Then, I sky.


R&R after 5 or so months... 5 and some change actually. Time to kick the dirt offa da bootz and roll to the House, Cold Beer, kids and a warm and (hopefully) Willing Wife... truthfully, she'd damned well better be willing after this long assed enforced celibacy... anyways... Well, lets see...

When we last left the IR, he'd been forced to work long hard assed hours. Nothings changed there. No time off, no internet and no fun. The only relief has been the occasional Extreme Sport of "Drinking Outside The Wire" at the Iraqi bars. A sport not for the faint of heart, nor even the fucking sane. Despite the Militarys enforcement of "No Booze No Fun No Sex" General Order Number One, which happens to end with a codicile written in 'weasel speak' (meaning lawyerese) that "And if we haven't thought of it and written it here, it too, is strictly prohibited." Well, despite that I say "Fuck it." and go for it. I mean what sort of Contractor would I be if I didn't bend the rules now and again? I mean hell... My wife sez there is no 'Black and White' with me, just 'Shades of Grey' as the Dead song goes. I mean as I say "No harm, no foul" then hey? Sometimes you just gotta say "What the fuck?"

Now before I quote Tom Cruise again, I'll pause to beat my head with a fucking mallet, and then I'll continue... So as I was saying, the internet has been totally dicked up lately. Only recently did the genuises I work with figure out how to get it running so I'm good. Fat lot of good of course, seeings that I'm leaving tomorrow, but given the option of staying? OH HELL NO! So yeah, I finally finished the Compound that I was tasked into costructing. Head Hajji Overseer again. Unlike the last job I did back in '04, this one was pretty smooth, albeit that we got ripped of by the Haj on our generators... they said they were new, but two days into the running of them, the fucking muffler broke off of one of them, and the other one runs like a fucking poorly tuned Asthmatic Yugo. Have you ever stood close to a 30K generator running flat out? Think LOUD. Like holy shit loud. Now, imagine it if you can, being even louder. The muffler keeps it so that you can think... without it? the damned thing sounds like a Kenworth running at 110 miles an hour flat out. LOUD LOUD. As in "shakes the fucking walls down" loud. So I get the blame.

Oh yeah... did I mention I have a new boss? I'll refrain from going off... lets just say he looks about a Large Long in an Orange Jumpsuit and I was pricing Machetes in the PX yesterday. Dude had better remember that this IS Iraq and accidents and "The Dirty Haj" do happen.

So yeah, I have to show one pic of the construction :

This is when they started to lay the T-Walls which are supposed to protect us from mortar and rocket attacks, and yes, the Hajji supervising is in fact digging deep in his asscrack. Yeah... "IMPORTANT Note to self... do NOT shake hands with the foreman." The dude kept working that hand there to the point it was obvious that he had 'something' wrong and man, there is just waaaaaaaay too much info just in the fact that I didn't INTEND on that picture being taken. I was snapping away and I happened to catch him at it, but considering the frequency that he was doing it, I'm surprised that ALL the pics of him didn't show "Mister Itchy Ass Haj" doing it in all of them.... Ugh... what a country...

So on other news... One serious note... According to GlobalSecurity dot Org, there have been 38 US Service men and women Killed/Named KIA since the Obamamessiah took office. How many of them have you heard of?

Ahhh thats right... you won't or haven't. The Mass Corporatemedia, also as I call them, the Demomediamania Mob, made up of the likes of the Communist News Network and such have downplayed the loss of our brave warriors. How many times did the media slavishly and completely run every single casualty when Bush was in office or when McCain was running for office, being dragged into the spotlight and laid bloody at the feet of the Republicans? How many families were devastated by these fucking vultures and scum-monkeys by being asked "How does it feel that your son/daughter died for George Bush's war?" Hmmn... like I said... it's time to target the media... physically. If you're a vet, the next time a newman comes over to you, just knock him the fuck out, or, if you're disabled, hose 'em down with Bear Mace. It's the least they deserve. I mean how many times did those Goddamned Vultures DEMAND the right to film at Delaware when the coffins were being offloaded? A couple of hundred that I could see. Now? Not so much. Fuckers. "Freedom of the press?" Howabout the freedom to kick your scummy fucking ass when I get the chance?

I'm truly disgusted. 38 of our best, killed, but no one fucking mention or honor... the Media Clowns used to cover every single death... granted they had an agenda, and I disagree the way they did it, but at least they still allowed America to see that our best had fallen, and allowed the rest of America to pause and maybe reflect, or even say -GASP- a prayer for them and/or for thier families...

Now these fucking douchebag fucking worms hide and bury the news, so as to not 'stain' their "Chosen One." I swear to God in Heaven that when I hit the States tomorrow, if theres a media crew there filming or asking or interviewing troops, I'll have a tough time restraining myself.

Anyways... gotta stop thinging about it... it gets the blood boiling and I got my Irish up so to speak. I'll leave it at this: I'm final;ly going to be home for a while, and am looking hard forward to it, so I may update when I'm there, but that remains to be seen... I'm just thrilled to be going home to my family, cold beer, hot, clean water and flushable toilets. No more blue water poo boxes for 3 weeks!!! Until then, I'll holler at you later!

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

A Few Comparisons...

Ok Today Ladies and Gentlemen of the Studio Viewing audience, Your Intrepid Reporter of Fame and Legend is going to relate a few things I noticed in watching a Discovery Channel show the other night. Seems that this was a show talking all about "The Greatest Generation" and the entire World War Two experience as it were. This was a somewhat edjamacational show for those who aren't ardent students of history, but the part that got me, and what sort of teed me off was the constant harping on how "hard the troops of the line had it." And how it was soooooo tough and that the 'younger generations' couldn't 'appreciate the hardship that those troops had to endure.' I call Bullshit on that. They kept having intersperced interviews with some of the guys who were 'on the line' back in the day, but the overwhelming tone of the entire show was "you young folks don't have it as hard as we did back then!" sort of crap. The "I walked up two miles to school everyday, uphill, both ways, in a blizzard!" sort of bullshit. This got me to thinking, and speaking purely from a neutral point of view, those guys back then had it as cake compared to today. This picture I ruthlessly stole from a reinactor website for the 82nd Airborne. The reinactors claim total authenticity, and seeings it was a good shot, it shows how much "Battle Rattle" the grunts in 1944 had to hump. Now granted, the average load bearing gear back then compared to today was primative, but man... the amount of stuff these dudes have on what was called a "Routine Patrol Pictured" shows the basic combat load of an Airborne Infantryman in the field. Notice the Ammo pouches... 4 to a man, 2 on each side, one 'clip' per pouch. Each guy is also wearing a 'steel pot' with liner, and wearing a small rucksack. The weapons pictured are M1 Garands... heavy as hell but a solid 8 shot weapon. Also visable on one guy on the left is the sheath to a knife, probably a close cousin of the K-Bar the marines carried. Add one canteen per man, and realize they were operating in Europe in June...
Now: Compare this to the dudes from the 2nd Infantry Division in a picture shot in Iraq last year. It's not totally clear, but I know, from Experience, that these guys are saddled up in a Kevlar Vest with Plates that tips in ALONE at 50 to 72 pounds depending on the size. Thats just the body armor. Add in at least 3 ammo pouches/bandoliers of ammo holding 2-3 magazines at a pound apiece, throw in the rest of the gear, usually to include a CamelBack water carrier (3 liters of water) and the other ephemera that a grunt humps and ugh! Lets see "The Greatest Generation" take all that and hump it. Granted, the helmet and body armor help save lives, and they didn't have the high speed technology back in the day, but to have to wear ALL of that and in Iraq where the average mean temperature in the summer is like 120 degrees? Cut the "Generation X'ers" a bit of slack here gang! As a contractor I have to hump my own armor and helmet every time I go out on mission, and man, it shows me to be a fat and out of shape former grunt that I used to be. Hell... back in MY "Old Army Daze" WE didn't even have a set of armor like these kids are running around in, never mind suffering the heat while being basted in yer own juices while wearing this stuff. Add in that back in WW2, you KNEW who the 'bad guys' were, and usually where they were, and you were allowed to shoot them. Whereas our guys now are fighting a 4th Generation style conflict, where the 'bad guys' are invisible, and then, even then, shooting them might get you hemmed up and faced with a murder rap... even if it means saving your own peoples lives! To quote Martin Sheen in "Apocalyse Now": "Shit... charging a man with murder in this place was like handing out speeding tickets in the Indy 500."

Yeah, pluses and minuses to both eras... I'm not bashing the WW2 vets per se, but just in the portrayal that the media (AGAIN!) seems to like to do to our guys on a regular basis... Enough ranting on the media for the moment here.

Things here in Iraq have gotten off to a fucked up sort of start these days, but then again, worldwide, I have a feeling that we're building towards 'something.' That something isn't tangable, but considering the number of mass shootings in the States (10 in Alabama or some such place as of this morning) and the mass murder/suicides and shit thats happening all over because of the economy, stress and all the nasty business that the current Administration seems hell bent on creating in an attempt to create a socialist paradise, well then, it's enough to make a person like me a bit MORE paranoid than usual. I mean Hell, Iraq: Suicide Bombings two times in as many days, with Mass Casualties. Ireland: IRA assholes killing Tommies (Brit Troops) in an ambush and then killing a cop the next day. United States: Multiple Mass shootings in random areas at random times.

Mass Hysteria? Not yet, but definately the pressure is building. The Current Administration is also NOT helping matters worldwide. Between the "Hug Me Fuck Me" message that they keep sending out, and the outright fearmongering going on on the news to further his agenda, shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. I'm in Iraq and I only see what the mass media feed me on AFN on the tube and what I can garner off of the web, and even I can see things are getting funky. The summer hasn't hit, and the economy keeps getting trashed out, taxes are about to hit the roof, and I got a hunch it's time to restockpile some shit as it's not looking too fucking rosy in the future. Think "Pre-9-11" stupidity. In June/July of 2001, I saw a similar trend of 'pressure building' that subsequently saw a 'pressure release' of 9-11 and the series of unending wars going on.

Now, in 2009, the economy is tanking, the wars are winding down, the gummint is broke and looking to tax the ever loving shit out of anything that moves, all the while taking over whats LEFT of the free market, and man, It don't look good. Me, I say stock up on food and essentials cause they ain't gonna be around much longer... Just look at gun sales... even the 'common herd' is spooked, and the people in power know it. As the Chinese Curse goes "May you live in interesting times..."

Friday, February 27, 2009

It's been how long?

Wow.... Time flies when you're working your ass off, day after day, slaving for "The Man" and not having any down time.... Yep the IR here with not so much for the scene in The Baghdad Cafe, formerly known as the Saddam-A-Go-Go. The only thing I've been doing is 'ye olde nose to ye olde grindstone.'
Seems that "The Big Boss Man" came to town... and I'm burned out for it... Yeah... The Corporate Head honcho showed up and I'm better for it in many respects, especially since he's carried the Corporate Checkcard and Pimp-Roll-O-Cash to smooth out the purchases and such that I've been screaming about over the past few months, it's helped me with my job SIGNIFICANTLY.

My biggest issue though is there's hardly any 'skate time' Not when the guy who's in the "make or break" side of your career is sitting right behind you for 12 hours out of the day. Considering the poor bastard is working AS much if not more, then I'd be amazed... He sits and works with us all day long and then he still has to go home and be joined to the computer, as the States are like 8 hours behind us.... meaning when the Corporate Pinheads schedule a 4pm Eastern Standard telconference, we have to be up at like midnight here... AFTER having already done a fucking 12 hour shift... But it's the reason I haven't had too much commentary to throw out there as of late. I've been flat the fuck out busy busy and to the point I haven't updated anything, to include facebook, myspace or any of the other bits of entertainment you loyal readers follow me and the Not So Much Lately Adventures of the Intrepid Reporter.

But, as of late, Baghdad is quiet. The changeover between 4th Infantry Division and 1st Cavalry Division is pretty much over with now. Yep... leave it to me to be 'back with the Cav' again like I was in 04-05. I just can't seem to escape 1st Cavalry Division... it's like a reoccurring cold, or actually, considering how the Cav annoys me, I'd say it's more like having a case of herpes... flares up and annoys the shit out of you at the most inopportune times... I mean it was being in the Cav that got me hurt many many moons ago, and it was the Cav that screwed me over every time I turned around during my Med Board, and then, in 04, it was the Cav that abandoned me, Lil Country, and the rest of the CACI folks when they 'pulled the line of battle' back during a particularlly hairy week, leaving us as "Fresh Meat" for the Dirty Haj if they felt so inclinded. The Cav... as I say of the patch

"The Horse Never Ridden, The Line Never Crossed, and the Color Right Down The Back."

That about sums up 1st Cav... and I've EARNED the right to bag on that unit... Having spent 4 years and all the shit I went through, I have DEFINATELY BT-DT-GTTS.

But yeah. Baghdad is quiet. Mosul now? Not so much. Reports filtering down through various 'shall remain unnamed' sources have filled the IR up with all sorts of tales... Seems that the Surge that the Media loved to lambast but now keep their mouths shut about worked in that the US Army, combined with a newly re-energized Iraqi Military, succeeded in driving the majority of terrorists and babyrapers right out of the Capital. They headed North into Kurd Kountry... Sunni Central from my understanding of it. We've taken some casualties (another thing you WON'T hear from the media as trumpeting casualties lays it on the Obamamessiahs Lap rather than George "I'm Outta Here" Bush.) but we're still winning.

Which brings me to my point of an earlier post. I didn't get ANY responses about beating on the reporters or such ideas. I mean "Beat The Press" is such a cute bit of wordplay, and the idea of taking some of these neo-socialist fucking hacks and feeling the impact of my "mighty right fist o' death" on one of their smarmy, mewling, puking, plastic-enhanced grills, and having the satisfaction of watching caps and teeth fly like so many chicklets from a goalies' mouth.... Damn... I need a cigarette... That would be OH so nice. To see Dan Rather get stomped (even though just pushing him over or hiding his dentures would be good enough) while singing the R.E.M song for all of his inordinate Anti-American Tirades... to see all of them Tarred and Feathered properly. Properly in that the tar is heated to such a degree that said victim(s) would usually die from the 2nd and 3rd degree burns even before all the feathers could be properly applied.

I'm now OFFICIALLY on the "Anti-Press Bandwagon." The country is broke, broken and we've got nothing to show for it than a neophyte president who's wholly incapable of stringing a coherant thought into a concerted sentence without the use of a teleprompter who was elected more by a festering neo-liberal bunch of malcontents who, rather than actually do their jobs, were content to be Democratic Cheerleaders and get a man elected who, in reality, scares the ever loving shit out of me. Me? I'd prefer if The Hillaroid had gotten in... better the "Socialist Demon You Know" than the "Closet Muslim Neo-Fascist You Don't." The Press succeeded in swinging the vote, and is now complicit in hiding the ABYSSAMAL job that their chosen one is doing.

4 Trillion dollars.

4 with 12 zeros.


God Help us. I'm barely making ends meet working my ass off for the "Imperial Federal Government" and I'll be lucky if they don't chop the 'tax free' duckets off of my tax return. It's like the ONLY reason I stay here. Tax free is the ONLY reason, and making 100K a yearhelps too. No such thing as that in the states now eh?

BTW: One last note: My mailing addy has changed to

"My Name"


APO AE 09342

DSN 485-5981

The DSN Number on the bottom helps the mailroom folks to call me when the stuff shows up. Please feel free to mail me anything and everything. My "other mother" Susan sent some of the most KILLER chocolate chip cookies, which actually made it here inside of 5 days of her mailing them... My thanks for those... they rocked!!!! Any booze drugs or anything else... well, I'm NOT supposed to get them, but at this point, any and all donations are gratefully recieved. Seeings that I'll be home in the end of the month, (R&R Baby YEAH!!!) I'm really looking forward to it.

OH One more thing. Let me know if anyone wants a job over here... working with me. I'm literally hiring another Logistician, so send me them resumes to all who are interested. Until then, I remain, the Intrepid Reporter.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Iraq and Evolution to Revolution

Greetings and Salutations from Iraq, the country that time, common sense and anything Decent forgot!!!

I’m live (for now) here at the Baghdad Kit Kat Klub, formerly known as the Saddam-A-Go-Go and hanging pretty regularly in the Sinbad Bar and Grill at the BIAP Hotel and Convention Center. I’m regular enough to know all of the wait-staff, and am now pretty familiar with the “movers and shakers” here in country. The Sinbad is the magnet for “People of Power” who wish to chill, among which are NSA, CIA and State Department types… Me? I get by ‘cause I know the owner of the place. Yeah, it’s all about who you know, or if female, who you blow. To a point, I spent one night getting boozed up with a member of the Iraqi Parliament, Mr. Nabeel Musawi, who is listed as the “Leader of the Loyal Opposition” in many theaters, but is also a member of the Iraqi National Congress. Yepper, the Old Intrepid Reporter is moving up in the world, and partying with peeps who are the “top o’ da top” here in theater.

Truthfully, it was a fascinating time hanging with “Naib” as I called him, which is short for his name Nabeel, and also Arabic for “Chief.” He was excited by the upcoming election, but terrified by the concept of the Obama folks and the future of Iraq. To understand, this dude was against Saddam BEFORE it was cool to be against Saddam. Back when old Saddy used to send agents into other countries to assassinate his critics. His biggest fear was how the Americans might leave, and that his people would not be fully ready to “take the helm” Another fear is that we’d leave before the Iraqis are ready to defend themselves from the Iranians. Seems that the age-old hatreds are still there… I mean REALLY old as in “Persians VS Babylonian” type hatreds… the whole “This is SPARTA” timeframe shit… these people are REALLY into holding a grudge let me tell you… Either way, the election went surprisingly well, and for once was without any sort of ‘real violence’ that I’d seen in ’04.

Nicely done Iraq. At this rate I’m gonna be out of a gig…

So anyways: Back in the States… now known as The United People’s Socialist State of Obamaland.

Let me begin this section with a small warning: Just WHAT. THE. FUCK. I mean I knew that the Obamamessiah was going to be bad news, but it’s like the bad news a Doctor gives you :”We’ve found a growth and it’s dick cancer” kind of news. I mean I knew Obama was gonna play towards the Muslims and try to Eat some Islamic Ass in some Leftist Neo-Marxist “Rodney King Can’t We All Just Get Along?” Worldview, but Holy Shit! Check this little number:

“By executive order, President Barack Obama has ordered the expenditure of $20.3 million in migration assistance to the Palestinian refugees and conflict victims in Gaza.

The "presidential determination" which allows hundreds of thousands of Palestinians with ties to Hamas to resettle in the United States was signed on January 27 and appeared in the Federal Register on February 4.

President Obama's decision, according to the Register, was necessitated by "the urgent refugee and migration needs" of the "victims."

Few on Capitol Hill took note that the order provides a free ticket replete with housing and food allowances to individuals who have displayed their overwhelming support of the Islamic Resistance Movement (Hamas) in the parliamentary election of January 2006.”


We don’t even have the ability to take care of the fucking people in our own country, and now we’re gonna import a Whole Horde of Dirty Hajj into the States? I mean I could understand if we were using them as targets on a live fire range or something, but what in the Name of Screaming Tree Jesus is the Obamamessiah fucking doing? Hamas? In The States? OMFG give me strength.

Talk about going the EXACT opposite of the Bush years idea of “We’re fighting them there to keep them from fighting them here” and now a turnabout of that to “C’mon in… the jewelry is in the dresser, the good scotch is under the mantel, and try not to rape my wife too hard.” Mentality. I’m NOW convinced that a LOT of the nutbars who were screaming “He’s a closet Muslim” might have been onto something there. The quote of “hundreds of thousands” scares me fucking shitless… there just ain’t that many Seven-Elevens or taxis in America to provide them with a job, and when the Dirty Haj get to the states, the first thing they’re gonna get is a welfare check and a free house? FUUUUUUUUUUCK!

It’s enough to make a white man join a ‘social club.’

Me? I’m DOUBLING my order of ammunition this month and REDOUBLING an order for some more Mountain House prepared foods. My advice? Do the same. Guns, food, water and look into the whole “Hardening the House” thing cause I got me a wild hunch it’s gonna get reeeeallly fucked up in the states soon. Until then, I’ll keep working until I need to come home.

Don’t start the revolution without me.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Despite the Recent Mortars...

I've been really busy on the job, but have been trying to update and such. FINALLY though, I"VE GOT BANDWIDTH!!! Which means y'all get a few pictures, and later, hopefully if it works (not in this post mind you) but video too. The pic above is of a new 7 or 10 story building in the Baghdad area... It's a new business center, and as you can see, they want YOU to KNOW that they are, as the sign sez "OPEN." It's a sure-fire positive sign of things getting better. A picture that would NEVER be published in the states, but here it is, Brought to you by the letter "F", the number "69" and the World Famous Intrepid Reporter.This one here I just sort of snapped on the way home. What struck me is how the Media, Other Governments and Liberal Fucktard Assholes of the planet (and in our own country) try to make us out to being an "Army of Occupation." Let me ask thid: In World War Two: Did we allow the krauts to keep flying the Swastika when we won? Answer: Fuck No! So, my 'proof' of this NOT being an occupation is this: a simple Iraqi National Flag flying proudly on Route Irish... which in itself is amazing as in 04, normally I stood a decent chance of getting shot if I stopped to take a pic like this.

Now, to update on other things and ephemera. Before the "One" was' I mean the in-auger-ated "One"... you know, that black dude. Anyways, the Dirty Haj had been throwing all sorts of nastiness our way, which in a word, SUCKED. That and the closure of the Duty Free... no more easy booze unless I go to a bar OUTSIDE the wire, which in itself is an adventure, as it means
A) going to bar

B) drinking like a fish as fast as possible (Chug 3- 1 liter Beers and 3 Double Jacks in 45 minutes)

C) jumping back in the truck and hauling ass back to base and getting inside a 'safe zone' before the buzz REALLY kicks in. (Gotta appear sober at the gate, lest the authorities become aware you've been boozing.)

It's sort of an "Extreme Drinking Game" put to it's fullest extent...
Said Bar being located pictured above, the Baghdad International Airport Hotel and Convention Center. Home of the Sinbad Bar and Grill. Yep. No shit folks... and yeah, that is a functioning fountain in the froont. They've recently added on to the building and added a Shisha Cafe, which is where you go to smoke up the flavored tobaccos through a Hooka Pipe. It's a nice hotle, but a bit pricey at $225 a night for a suite. But considering it's 6 bux for a beer and 3 bux for a decent shooter of booze, I'll risk the $$$ and the time to go. Seeing the asshole in the back waving his hand... What do you want? OH? WHY would I risk life, limb and my ass in going out there? Well... the answer is simple Poindexter:

I live in fucking Stonehenge.

Big fucking rock walls surround every fucking inch of my house, my yard and my life. THIS is why I booze...

You would too, if'n you were here.

Until Later, I'll keep my head down, and my liver lubricated. Email me those of you who do, and let meknow what you think of the pics and such. Otherwise, I remain The Intrepid Reporter.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Damn I though it was too quiet...

OK Dear Readers
The Intrepid Reporter of Lore and Fame, (if only in my own twisted mind) has been in the nightmare mode that Baghdad has become. Namely the Dirty Fucking Haj (TM) has been getting active again.

Yeah.. we went from "Dead and Boring" to "Potentially Dead From Incoming." This sucks man. I've Been There Done That with this shit before. Hell, I took 2 seperate pieces of shrapnel in 04 when I got caught at Logbase Sietz during the "Worst of the Worst" back in the old days... I really DON'T want to relive those days... like when my fucking house got hit in Sept 04. For those of you just joining the IR Report, I was smart enough to go to work on September 14, 2005 fifteen minutes early. Thankfully I did as my house took a DIRECT hit from a chinese 82mm mortar round which, if I had been there, would have reduced the Intrepid Reporter to grape jelly. I was early as I got into a pissing contest with my so to speak manager at the time, who had given me shit about the fact that I was always JUST on time and never early. That morning I decided to show the prick I could be early, and because of it, I'm still alive. Thanks be to Jesus that I went with my urge to show the prick that I could be early.

Right now, man, lately, we've been under some INSANE level of incoming… like compared to 2004, not so much, but considering that when I got here, it'd been over 9-10 months since any, mind you, ANY rounds hit, and for like 3 days/nights in a row we've had between 2 to 4 incoming rounds. The Close In Weapons System called "Cee-Whiz" has been getting the majority of them, except for the one that jammed/fucked up the other night. Mind you OF FUCKING COURSE that was the one that impacted like right across from my house. Shook the walls blew dirt and stuff everywhere on my porch and roof and rattled my nerves pretty well… killed my buzz too… the bastards!

I can deal with incoming however, it's the side effects like negating a mellow night and having to don my Dragon Skin. Let's face it, it's uncomfortable to lay in the bed and wear that stuff as Household Six was on the Skype Phone with me and heard the whole thing. Hell hath no fury like an Enraged/terrified Italian/Sicilian wife. She sez "Wear it" and well, I tell her I do. Realistically, so far today/tonight it's quiet, but it's only5:44pm local. They seem to shoot at us later in the evening, right after the evening pray call. The real pain in the ass is that we don't seem to have a CAP (Combat Air Patrol) over us of Apaches like we did 'back in the day.' It used to be they'd shoot a few rounds at us, and the Apaches would get a grid location from the "Far Finder" Radar (which tells them roughly within a few meters where the rounds came from) and the next thing we'd usually hear was the beautiful sound of the Bushmaster 25 mike-mike blasting the hell out of the retards who were stupid enough to shoot at us.

The reduction of forces has me nervous actually. They seem to be 'building up' towards 'something.' The word on the street is that they want to 'test' the new POTUS and what with everything I'm reading/hearing/seeing on the net/radio and TV, his talking about shutting down here in Iraq sooner is only going to provoke them into doing to us what Hamas is/has been doing to Israel. Meaning small provocative attacks that are pin pricks… not very effective on causing casualties per se, but makes life fucking miserable for the Joes and us Scumbag Contractors.
Otherwise, y'all say a little pray for the ole IR... things here be a bit off the chain...
Until Later
The Intrepid Reporter