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 MaĆ®tre 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