Really, Al? Another One? Jebus.

Ah, hell… We might as well keep this train wreck of a week running (even if some people think I’m “sick”). Here's one last stupid thing which I have scanned this week.

The article to your right is one taken from the Glasford Gazette (ah, the beautiful, thriving metropolis of Glasford, IL!); front page, above the fold (there was no fold) in February-ish of 2002, after I had been living in Guantanamo Bay for a few weeks. I had absolutely been loving my time there; it still ranks as one the greatest three month stretches of my life –- the sun always shined, the food was unbelievable, the booze cheap, I was fortunate enough to share a townhouse with some of my best friends, beer pong was our unit’s official sport –- it was just top fucking times.

One day, we were fooling around outside of our office and noticed some reporters talking to one of our guards. Nobody liked the sound of that, so we went out to see what in the hell was going on. As it turns out, it was some hack reporter from the Air Force doing profiles of whoever wanted them, to be run in the hometown papers of those service personnel.

And, well, that sounded peachy. I wanted one.

It’s a fairly standard article for the military folks; one with a staged photo (they wanted me to act like I was talking on a walkie talkie –- of course, I had no walkie talkie, so they had me hold a brick up to my ear. Whatever.) and a bunch of generic lines that I’m sure they used in the hundreds of thousands of other articles which have ran in small town newspapers across the country lo these past five (!) years.

I tried to sneak a few ridiculous lines in there ("... so the judge told me either join the Marines or go to jail. So, it all worked out in the end, but I can’t help to think ‘is double parking really worth it?’", "What’s my favorite part about Cuba? I taught a monkey to make me drinks. He wears a tie and I call him Steve.") but those damn censors must have gotten them before they hit the presses.

One really, really dumb quote that did make it through is: Yeah. I have no idea what that is supposed to mean. Not only is my job title 90% made up [there was an Assistant Special Security Officer (ASS-O), Mike, who would deputize me as a "D-ASS-O" whenever he had pressing business to attend to (read: Drink beer and fish), but the title was only an honorary one; although one which I tried to use in order to leverage a few more months on that exotic, heavenly island, only to fail miserably and be sent back to crappy ass North Carolina] but I still have absolutely no freaking idea what in the hell "it’s kind of like being a bouncer, except I’m not in a bar –- I’m in Cuba." is actually supposed to mean.

Of course, I was probably drunk at the time, so maybe it does make a little bit of sense.

Again, whatever.

And thus concludes "The FYC’s Week Where Al Obviously Mailed It In And Told Us Really Boring Marine Stories."

[have a great wintery weekend, folks. try to stay warm out there, and remember: if illinois beats indiana saturday, i’m giving away handjobs! (to myself)]

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I enjoyed this week.
If illinois beats indiana this week, I'm leagally having my name changed to "Myself". I also enjoyed this week, but there is alot more potential for me to enjoy Saturday.
This was a good week; stories from the Front Lines are pretty often entertaining.

But hey, we have yet another thing in common: we've both been to Cuba. Except, as a Canuck, I was sipping drinks poolside all day every day for a week in a resort, and you were chillin' with the orange jumpsuits.

Viva la revolucion!
Maybe your understanding of what the quote was supposed to mean would be clear if it made any sense. By ensuring "the wrong people are kept out" directly suggests that you are incorrectly doing your job. You would want to keep the RIGHT people out of the secured facility. I know its confusing, but no more so than Team Eckstein v. Team Pierzynski.

You should have thrown the story of dancing to Cruel Summer in the VTC room when it turned on and Rummy saw you dancing...
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