tjtoaster's blog: "War on Terror"

“One minute,” the disembodied voice says into your headset and dutifully you pass on the message. Holding up one finger you signal the other passengers of the large helicopter. Everyone repeats the motion all the way back with the last man copying the signal to confirm that the message made it all the way back. Smiling he holds up a middle finger causing a laugh through the chopper. It lightens the mood, which is exactly what this situation needs. Holding your thumb and forefinger close together in the international signal for, “a little bit” it means “30 seconds” to the collected. Now the adrenaline kicks in, as you run through your last minute checks. Which way do you go once you exit the rear of the helicopter, your thumb runs across the safety of your rifle in an instinctive move as the chopper flares and gently touches down. First out the back are the off road motorcycles and the ATV, they are going to chase down “squirters,” bad guys who literally run for the hills when they see the choppers. Next off are the Afghan Security Force, more or less a militia who are American trained and will be absorbed into the Afghan National Army when it is more established. Fresh faced, they are not their battle hardened fathers who chased the Russians out of the country, but trained by U.S. Special Forces they are not as skittish as most new recruits. Everyone files out, as the first one on; you are the last out and are mindful that the pilots don’t like to be on the ground long. Altitude is their friend and you don’t want to be still on board when they take off. Hefting the seventy pound pack, you step out the back and link up with your battle buddy before hoofing it to the village. It doesn’t take long for the choppers to lift up and be out of sight. They will circle a few miles away and come back when called. None of that is your concern now, you are on the ground, in the middle of nowhere, Afghanistan looking for one of the most dangerous men in the region. Every mission was different, but that one sticks out in my mind. I was part of a two man psyop team attached to a Special Forces team. Our mission was to use our portable loudspeaker, basically a bullhorn on crack, to address the entire village at the same time to get everyone into the center of town. That mission doesn’t stand out in my head because we were after a man who had daisy-chained four antitank mines together, thereby Combining their explosive power into one detonation that took the lives of four American heroes a couple months before, men from this very unit. The heat nor the helicopter ride were something I was unaccustomed to, this mission stood out in my mind because it was the day my daughter saved lives. Approaching her fourth birthday she was 9,000 miles away and safely compartmentalized in my mind so I could focus on the task at hand. But it was lessons I had learned from her that paid off that day. I had spent the previous six months running missions with a team whose main purpose was to build rapport and win “hearts and minds.” That day however, I would not be sipping tea as I talked to the village elders about the current state of their country or helping to set up a medical clinic for the day. Nor would I be handing out beanie babies to the kids that had been donated by people back home. That day was a cordon and search, intel had it there was a specific bad guy in town and we couldn’t wait to meet him. My heavy pack finally resting on the ground I was watching the men of the village as they were placed against the wall while we ferreted out our man. Most had that patient indifference of people waiting for a minor inconvenience to be over so they can go back to their day. Like people waiting outside their building until the fire drill is over so they can go back to work. All expect for this one guy, he looked like he would rather be anywhere but here. Somewhere in the back of my mind it conjured up a memory. I had seen this before, my training in psychological operations, the months of working closely with locals of the country and understanding the intricacies of the culture didn’t help me see what he was thinking. His actions mirrored those of a three year old standing in front of cheese. Instantly I was transported back to the dairy aisle of our local supermarket. For some reason that kid loved to look at cheese, and as a gracious parent, I would let her. Too young to understand the fine art of being subtle, she would telegraph her intentions every time. Her favorite game was to suddenly take off in a run, she would break away and run around the corner giggling the whole way. It was a private joke only she was in on. In her head, around the corner was safety and that is as far as she thought she needed to get. If she could just get out of sight, she would be home free. I highly doubt she thought of what she would do once that happened, but that was the game. Even when I would warn her not to do it, bless her heart, she had to try. If it is a bad idea, but still fun it just might be worth it. Clearly she is my daughter, regret is for the boring and caution is for people who want open caskets. I could see the look in her eyes as she estimated the distance to the corner of the aisle, and then gauged how far away I was, all while pretending to look at cheese. A child who couldn’t say ‘physics’ was using it in her little head. She calculated her acceleration and top speed, factored in my reaction, acceleration and top speed and determined how close she would have to be to the corner to get away. Slowly she drifted a little to her right. That gave her more distance from me and less distance to the end of the aisle. I could swear she was recalculating speed and distance again trying to find the right equation that was favorable for her. Testing a theory I took two steps towards her. In an instant her entire demeanor changed. There is no way she could take off running and get anywhere before I would be upon her. Sweeping her up in my arms and ticking her to celebrate my victory. Standing in a far away land I could swear I was watching the same kind of situation unfold. Reading his eyes I could already see what he was thinking. Squatting in typical Afghan style he could easily explode up and be in motion before anyone nearby knew what was happening. Surprise was his ally as he jumped up and took out the Afghan soldier nearest to him. He wouldn’t have to kill him, just knock him aside and take the gun from his hands. His next move would be to shoot me, then my partner “Butters,” in that time one other guy from the group would grab my rifle or another AK-47 from another dead ASF soldier. They would use our weapons to make their escape. I could see his plan clear as day, once you live in extraordinary circumstances long enough, they stop being extraordinary. But I am not above admitting that my feelings were a little hurt that he had already planned my death. In his head he was going to kill me. Needless to say, this displeased me and I felt I had to take immediate action to protect my life and the life of others. Snapping my fingers to get the attention of the ASF soldier I motioned him to move over a couple feet. As soon as he did, my would be killer’s entire demeanor changed. He recalculated the distance and realized that those extra few feet would give the ASF troop an extra half second of reaction time, which would be enough to fight him off. Just like that his plan was foiled. All my time in country, all the study of the country and culture, working closely with locals and it was being a father to a precocious three year old that saved my life. I couldn’t help but laugh as I warned everyone around to keep an eye on him. A couple minutes later I was called forward as another set of eyes to verify of they had the right guy. As much as I like myself, it was flattering that men of this caliber were asking me what I thought. We compared pictures and recent information that gave us clues that this was indeed the guy. As we walked back past the area the men were gathered one senior man asked, “who goes with us?” They wanted to know who else was dirty. Without hesitation I pointed out my guy. “That guy knows something,” I said, “I don’t know what, but he knows something.” Sometimes it all comes down to a judgment call, everyone other adult man was lazily waiting for us to be done so we could leave their village. Most Afghans are even happy when a known Taliban is taken away. All they want to do is live without strife. It doesn’t matter who is in charge, Afghans, Americans, it could be green aliens as long as they will let them live in peace most Afghans don’t care. But the one guy who wants to get away more than anything is suspect. Afghans are a hard people, they do no scare easily. Blind fear would make you want to run, not plan our deaths. His inability to hide his intentions got him a free chopper ride which is more than most people can say. When we walked out of that village I leaned on my pack, refusing to pick it up again. Butters offered to trade me packs, and the polite translation of my response is, “forget you,” his pack was heavier than mine. The choppers coming back in were a welcome sight. We had gotten into the village, secured our target and everyone went home with all their fingers and toes, all without firing a shot. Not that we had a lot of downtime, not long after getting back it was announced that it was “Halo thirty” which is half past “Halo o’clock.” This time we would go four on four against the guys across the courtyard. This time we would take no prisoners.

I wrote this as a short story a few years ago. Since then I have moved a couple times, today I came across it and had to write it down. Hope you enjoy it. Not this time he promises himself, their Gestapo tactics won’t work on him this time. Every year they get him, like an annual attack or some sort of twisted anniversary celebration. Surprise is their ally. Unable to narrow them to calendar days, he is unprepared for them. Not like ti matters, there is no hiding from them. Like disciplined guerilla fighters they are everywhere. Your friendly neighbor one day, stealthy commando the next, only to return to their previous demeanor, cheerfully waving hello in spite of what they have done to you. Well he has not forgotten, and today… here… now he makes his stand. Today he will defy them. And not just for himself, but for all people everywhere who has been victimized by them. At least he can identify them. That uniform they are so proud of makes them stand out. He would swear they goosestep in those pressed uniforms when no one is looking. They probably wear jackboots behind closed doors. They use psychological warfare at a level not used since the Nazis. Hitler would have been proud, in fact had Hitler used these little commandos, his dream of a thousand year Reich might have been a reality. They might be speaking German in England today. But his SS were too soft. Warm and cuddly compared to these heartless monsters. Old, young, handicapped or able, none are safe from their onslaught. Few have the strength to resist. Good cop, good cop is their interrogation style. A tactic unheard of in law enforcement circles. It is one, in theory, doomed to fail. Yet somehow they make it work…. Every single time. Sure you may resist one, but the next; oh the next is upon you as you are reeling. You can’t lash out, there is no target for the hostility. The “bad” cop, the one you use to keep your defenses up, the one your direct your frustration on is just not there. Just good cop after good cop. You can’t vent on the good cop, it just isn’t done. So they break down your resistance. You give in, sometimes before you even know you have done it. You break and don’t even know you have broken. And when you do, it’s too late. No take backs in this game. At least none anyone has ever heard of. No one has ever had the guts. Walking in, he sees them. They pretend not to notice, but he knows they see him. Already sizing him up, plotting his downfall. If they only knew, if only they knew today was the day. Today is the day that their reign of terror will end. No more will they prey upon the innocent. So they allow him entrance, smiles on their lips. Knowing as well as he does that just like an Indiana Jones adventure, getting in is easy it is the getting out that is tricky. He makes a mental note of their positioning. As he expected, they have every exit covered, he can’t avoid them. Even if he had run when he first saw them, it wouldn’t have worked. Like I said before, they are everywhere. How do you hide from the wind? You don’t, and he is not willing to be a prisoner in his own home every year while they freely roam the earth until they return to the depths from whence they came. No a stand must be made….here….now! It is almost impossible to accomplish anything knowing what awaits him outside. How could you enjoy a boat ride if you knew you would be picked off as soon as you stepped onto the dock? Yet another one of their ploys, the anticipation can drive a man mad. But he bides his time, psyching himself up, revising a plan that will catch them off guard. He doesn’t need to destroy them, just distract them long enough to get some distance. Their attention will focus on weaker prey, or if nothing else, something closer. Yes, that’s it, the perfect plan. He plays it in his head a couple times, rehearsing it in his mind until he has it down cold. Then and only then does he emerge, exiting into their sight. As he closes the distance, nonchalantly striding towards them. He has carefully chosen his route, for it steers him away from the smallest one. The smaller ones are the ones to fear the most. They have the most to prove, unlike the bigger one who can be jaded, weary of the process. The smallest ones are still fresh in the game, fanatical almost. Like new soldiers thrust into combat for the first time, they either freeze up or take to it with an enthusiasm long discarded by the battle hardened veterans. Sure the old timers get the job done, but to them it is just a job. The new ones, they embrace it like a calling. But this isn’t combat, not in the literal sense. It is more like chess. And in this little chess game, they are always white. Thus the advantage is theirs. But black also wins, and today black will triumph. Slowly they maneuver closer. With the speed and ferocity of a pack of wild dogs, they are upon him. Even when you are ready for it, the abruptness of the viscous attack can be overwhelming. But he is ready, more prepared than he has ever been before. Today will be a day of reckoning. As he walks away, box of tagalongs in hand he thinks to himself, “this round goes to you girl scouts. You have won the battle, but the war, the war shall be mine.” Dejected he gets into his car, bent but not broken as he plots and schemes and prepares for their next engagement. Their evil banter still echoes in his ears. Not quite a question, not fully a comment. With underlying demand in six little words. ‘WANNA BUY SOME GIRL SCOUT COOKIES’

I was looking at one of those bulletin surveys, and I started thinking. We all say that we don’t regret anything. It’s like if we admit regret, we acknowledge a failure in our lives. Well, to be honest I do have a regret. I think that you can only really regret things that you had the ability to change. Here is my one regret. My Brigade Command Sergeant Major offered me a position as his driver. He wasn’t slotted a driver, but offered me the job. His plan was to get me a board date and get promoted. He was offering me a place at his table, and it would have been a great boon to my career. I respectfully turned him down. I thought that my place as a soldier was to do my job. At the time I had a team of my own and I enjoyed the responsibility of leadership. In my head sitting around doing nothing and riding the CSM’s coattails isn’t something a real soldier did. Had I taken his offer I would have stayed in and they would be pinning E-8 stripes on me right now. However I can’t totally regret my choice. It is only because of a very specific set of circumstances that got me to the place where I would have such a wonderful daughter. So whenever I feel bad about it, I remind myself that had I taken it I wouldn’t have the life I have now. There is one thing I don’t regret, even though it was career suicide. Have you ever had that one defining moment? That time when you are tested, and I mean truly tested? Where it is the one moment when you have to back up everything you claim to believe in or are shown as being full of shit. I remember the exact moment for me. Let me give you the back story. I was an Infantry team leader. One of the things that I told my guys was that you do the right thing to do because it is the right thing to do. You don’t just do it when it is the easy thing, but you especially do it when it is hard. That is when you know what you are really made of. Well one of my guys got into an accident, he was drunk, and underage. One of my rules had been if you are stupid enough to get caught, you deserve to be punished. But I also don’t believe in kicking a man when he is down. And since this took place on a civilian highway, he had enough troubles. I had to go in front of the man and speak for my guy. He had said he wasn’t driving, and she said she wasn’t (it was her car) well her Dad was making a big stink about it,(she was injured pretty bad) so this kid was going to get crushed. We had a serious talk before I went to talk to the Platoon Sergeant. Oh man did this guy have it out for my boy. He was ranting and raving about how much he hated the kid. He even said that he wanted five minutes alone with a baseball bat. I knew how every other team leader in the platoon would have handled it, agree with the man and let your guy get burned. Better to lose one than sacrifice two careers. I was going along for a while. He was being unprofessional, but don’t we defend your right to expression. And I never thought he would really put his hand on my soldier, or I would have stepped in. Suddenly it came, that defining moment. It was so spontaneous that I didn’t recognize that is what it was until later. It came in the middle of his rant. Most of it I couldn’t dispute. Yes he had been drinking, yes he was underage, but when he said my guy was driving, I had to disagree. That stopped the toon sergeant in his tracks. “How do you know? Were you there?!” Do you know that feeling like you can see the train coming, but you can’t step off the tracks. You brace for the hit, just knowing that it is going to hurt. For those who know me know that being tactful and respectful at the same exact time, is very hard. And almost impossible when I think the person is an idiot and dead wrong. But somehow I pulled it out of my ass. And all I said was, “No Sergeant, he told me.” The bellowed response, “And you believe him!?!” “Yes, we don’t lie in my squad.” Oh man, that set him off. At that moment he knew that I would not let him steamroll my guy. As soon as walked out that door I was going to face my squad. And there is no way in hell I was going to ask them to live up to a standard if I wouldn’t do it myself. I like that my soldiers will follow me out of respect, not because they have to. Ask any real soldier I have led and anyone of them would follow me today. Now the deal is that no one saw the exchange. Maybe another squad leader, but I don’t remember anyone else in the office. So I could have walked out and lied about what happened, but that isn’t my way. Shortly after we had a public moment. The battalion set up a combat lifesaver course. The Platoon Sergeant made it clear that he had already selected the names so I didn’t sweat it. Then he fucked up. In formation he told each squad leader to give him a name of who most deserved to go. Fuck, here comes that damn train again. Everyone else took a safe choice, and I had the perfect political choice, and while he was a good kid, he was new and hadn’t proven himself yet. So he didn’t most deserve to go. Who did most deserve to go? The kid the Platoon Sergeant hated. He deserved it. So I said his name. If I had to do it all over again I would have said it louder. Fuck him. I am working on my fifth row of ribbons for my uniform. They don’t mean shit. What means the most to me is that my guy whispered “thank you” He knew what it meant and why I had did it. So when I say do the right thing, that means do it all the time. That doesn’t mean I don’t slip, but when it counts, you know I will do what is right. I knew that he was going to screw me, but I wasn’t going to do the work for him. If you want to kick me out, you are going to have to do it yourself, I won’t quit. Oh and I am Briar fucking Rabbit bitch. He was only an E-7, come on at that point you really needed to be a field grade officer to mess with me. During a change of Command Ceremony a few months prior, my company commander told everyone, to include the Brigade staff that his head still hurt from me taking him on with pugil sticks. Timmy was a bad ass. So that joker thought he could mess with this guy. It took him a few months, but finally he made his move. That same Brigade CSM from before stepped in and let them know they were screwing me. He selected me to go as the representative of his Brigade to the I Corps color guard. I still have the pimp picture of me in dress blues in the Kingdome at a Mariners game. Not only did I leave the unit, but I cleared it with an e-mail from the Brigade CSM to the Battalion CSM. For the Army folk, you know that you can’t clear a unit without orders, and you are right, you can’t Briar Rabbit can! I know this is long, but I don’t care. So what about you? Have you been tested? Did you pass? Now did you really? And seriously, do you have a real regret? Whatever happened to that kid? Nothing, he had to pay some fines on the civilian side. No Army punishment at all. He kept driving on under my leadership, and when we went to Panama for JOTC, he kicked ass when I left (Red Cross message) A PFC led the team and they were the only team to not take a casualty on the field exercise. Before I left the unit that same Platoon Sergeant made me put him in for an award. That kid is not an E-6, I think he is in the reserves now, and a husband and father. He did good. All he needed was the chance.

I was planning on writing a blog about September 11. As long as I have had blogs, I have written something on this day. Normally I would take a minute to reflect about where I was when I got the news and what I was doing. But I am sure that everyone has heard the story y now, or at least the people that actually read my blogs. Mainly I thought that this isn’t something that will be forgotten anytime soon. So I took a more subdued approach to this year. That was my plan, and it was going great. Until a few minutes ago. I was flipping through the channels, and came across a show where they were asking people in LA two questions. When did the September 11th attacks happen, and what are the names of Angelina Jolie and Prad Pitt’s kids. Sadly, they could name the kids yet kept messing up the year. For those that were wondering, the attacks on 9-11 were not in 2005. Just a heads up. While I have quite a few thoughts about that, I am not going to say them. I think it is best if people this what they want about this situation. Unfortunately, I am not surprised.

Okay this really bugged me. I caught an episode of the show Army wives. It had actors I liked in it, it was a show concept that interested me, and I have a lot of time on my hands for the next couple weeks. The show really pissed me off. Some shows have low budgets, poor concepts (a show on the geico cavemen, come on) poor actors, or just don’t have anywhere for it to go. (Are you willing to watch the same guys try and break out of prison for 5 years?) This show, however, had it all. Good actors, a great concept, there are so many places you can take it, and pretty much a built in audience. If you make anything about the military, Joes will watch it. It is that simple. Take that show ‘Over There” about being in Iraq. I have never been in Iraq and I don’t claim to know what it is like, but in most of the characters you can see people you know in it. The hard ass sergeant, the book smart kid that doesn’t really fit into an infantry unit, the punk from the hood with an attitude, someone who is solid and reliable (in that show the religious kid Angel) and sadly for some, the wounded soldier. As a military member watching that show if you are not like one of those characters, you know a couple of them. The story lines were made up, and you have to give freedom to work with the subject. But they didn’t do a bad job in the couple episodes I saw. But this Army wives kinda ticked me off. I don’t look at any of them and see a single military spouse I knew. Even their military members were BS. A light colonel does not go to an E-5’s house to check up on him. And if he pulls a gun on her because of PTSD, I am going ot go ahead and say she would report that. His story of why he had PTSD made me leave the room. It was about an incident in Afghanistan (a place I have been to) and it took place in the Kandahar area (a place I am very familiar with). He was left, by his unit, in an Afghan village because he was wounded. The rest made it back, and they couldn’t get a group together to rescue him for a few days, and after they pulled him out, an LTC, SGT and two other soldiers went out in a single vehicle to bring stuff for the village to thank them. Some Taliban were punishing the village and they just watched because the commander told them they couldn’t get involved in local matters. How many things wrong with that can you find? What really got me about that is that there are literally hundreds and thousands of stories about PTSD based on real and dramatic events. Everyone is affected by being deployed. Some make it a positive, some don’t, most of fall in between. There are those few, those very few who can’t function after. Sadly, we also know one of those. Sorry, I got away from the topic. The show is supposed to be about Army wives and it only reflects the negative. The military spouse does more than just carry our children. There is a secret that the Taliban never figured out, and why that country would never prosper under their rule. Also why parts of the middle east, regardless of GNP, will never be able to rise or develop past a certain level. The big secret? Women are our quiet strength, women are our compassion. Behind every great man is a great woman. That is only partly true, to be a great man you need the support of a great woman. Women are what temper us. We have the best military in the known universe, but without the support of our women we wouldn’t be able to fight our way out of a wet paper bag. Here is something to think about; every culture that oppresses its women has a laughable Army. In a straight up fight, force on force you take an country where women can vote and are equals, and one where they can’t, the fight would be about as one sided as an adult beating up a baby. After rambling on for far too long, here is my point. The show doesn’t do justice to who it is supposed to be about, the Army wife. There are so many real stories that need to be told, they don’t need to make up the “dramatic stories” they use. You could go to an FRG meeting and pick at random women with better stories than the show craps out. I know that some people are going to like it. And that is fine with me. I hate it when people look down on someone for liking something that they don’t. I am hoping that the show pulls out and gets better. Without Army wives, we wouldn’t have an Army, without American women we wouldn’t have this great a country.

As I prepare to pack up my computer before getting on a flight out of Afghanistan I was thinking about my time over here. This time I am a contractor, I am doing what I feel is an importnat job, but I am not here in uniform. Not that I think that detracts from my work, I ust don't want to be misleading. However I have been deployed in uniform, and while soldiers get thanked a lot for thier service, those that are left behind get hugely overlooked. Despite the danger, it is very much easier being the one deployed than the one left behind. Overseas you are with your friends, and you have missions to keep your mind off how bad it can get. I have been on missions I thought were stupid, needlessly risky, or that I flat out thought I wouldn't come back from. But I knew that if I didn't go, someone would go in my place, and you don't let someone else pick up the slack you dropped. Also do I really trust someone else to keep an eye on my boys? Lets face it, no one will have Doog's back better than me. It is easier being over here than left behind. But we need the people back home to keep us grounded. Fighting GWOT is important and couldn't be done without the people back home that mean everything to us. So next time you see a profile that belongs to a soldier, if they have someone back home, make sure you thank that person. If you ever thank a military member in person, thank the people with them for supporting them, for the people bakc home had it worse. It wasn't more dangerous, but it was still worse.

1. Assuming he can get a raging hard on when it suits you. Contrary to popular belief, men can't just flip a switch and get it up because you decided to stop being a frigid bitch. Getting it hard is your job. I suggest you figure it out. 2. Thinking that kissing needs to be this sweet romantic thing all the time. Sometimes pressing your lips against your partners mouth while you get off is hot. It depends on the situation. 3. Leaving him responsible for your orgasm. You know what gets you off. Tell him. If you don't, it's your own fault when he's snoozing and you're all wound up. 4. Expecting him to cuddle. Men and women are wired differently. Sex makes most women want to talk and bond and all that shit. It makes men pass out. It's a biological thing. Stop fighting it, and stop holding it over his head, it's not his fault. 5. Expecting him to fall asleep with you in his arms. That shit is uncomfortable after awhile. A little snuggling isn't unreasonable, but when it's time to actually sleep? An arm draped over you should suffice. 6. Expecting him to always lay on the charm and romance. Sometimes, that's nice. Sometimes. But expecting him to be all roses and candles all the time is like expecting you to act like a pornstar all the time. If you're not willing to do that, don't expect him to switch for you. 7. Being selfish in bed. Regardless of the shit that Cosmo forces down our throats, sex is NOT just about us. Get over it. 8. Using random magazines as a sex bible. I dont know who comes up with half that shit, but I'm pretty sure they need counseling. 9. Whining when he pushes your head down on his cock instead of stroking your hair. Know why he's pushing, skippy? Because you aren't doing it right, and have apparently ignored the other clues he's given you. Pay attention to the signals that he's sending you. 10. Not moving at all. Missionary is not an excuse to do nothing. 11. Expecting him to undress himself with any amount of grace. He's about to get some pussy. Be glad he bothered to take his pants all the way off. If it concerns you so much, undress him yourself. 12. Not shaving your legs. Im pretty bad at this myself. But if you want your guy stubble free, you better get out the razor. 13. Allowing your crotch to resemble the amazon. Yes, waxing hurts. Yes, some people don't want to go bare. Thats fine. If you like bush, great. If you have sensitive skin and can't shave, I feel for you. But for the love of Christ, trim that shit if you want him to spend any time down there. 14. Assuming that sex means a relationship. The only relationship you have is that he has now stuck his hoo hoo dilly in your cha cha. That's as far as it goes unless otherwise noted. 15. Withholding oral sex just because you're ragging. He didn't do it. Unless you want him to withhold oral sex because he's hormonal, I suggest you get some kneepads. 16. Expecting him to figure out what you like by what noise you make. Use your words. Have you ever actually heard what you sound like while you're having sex? If you heard yourself on tape, and someone asked you to explain what was causing you to make that noise, 67% of women would respond with answers like "I stubbed my toe" "I ran up the steps" or "I was putting up drywall". 17. Leaving condoms up to him. If you're sexually active and insist that he uses a condom, I suggest buying a box and keeping it by your bed. Not all men keep them on them, and it's just as much your responsibility as it is his. If you think that makes you a slut, you shouldn't be having sex anyway. Go back to Jr High. 18. Getting your undies in a bunch when he talks dirty. A little fantasy can be fun. If he treats you with respect all the time, you shouldn't be offended when he calls you his dirty little slut. When he calls you a whore and tells you to come, its his way of showing that he cares if you get off. Stop being a sissy. 19. Refusing to be spontaneous. I know this is shocking, but sometimes sex OUTSIDE of the bedroom is fun. 20. Dissing quickies because it's not some slow sensual ordeal. Sex is a dynamic thing. Theres an awesome raw energy when you only have 20 minutes but having to have someone so bad that you do it half clothed against the wall. Readjust your thinking. 21. Being too much of a pussy to tell him what is or isn't acceptable before you start bumping uglies. Be honest. If he asks if he can poke you in the butt, and you giggle and say no like it's an invitation, don't look surprised when he "accidentally" sticks his cock in your butt. 22. Expecting him to undress you. I put a bra on almost every day. I know for a fact that getting them off isn't always easy. Help a brother out. 23. Undressing in the dark. If youre shy, dim the lights, but give the man something to see. No ripping off the clothes and diving under the covers, either. 24. Refusing to get on top. Theres no reason men should have to do all the work. 25. Getting that bored look on your face. Men are more visual than women. Give him something to look at. Get on top and arch your back a little bit. Move. Do something to indicate that you 1) are not dead and 2) didn't suffer a minor stroke rendering you unable to move. 26. Expecting him to do all the touching when you're riding him. It's your body, you're used to it. Play with your tits, rub your clit, do something to make his job easier. 27. Being too afraid to guide your partner's hand when hes touching you. Don't like the way he's doing it? Gently take his hand and show him how you like it. 28. Getting into bed, getting naked, fooling around and then deciding that you just want to cuddle, then getting offended when he doesn't. Its your choice to stop, but don't look all fucking surprised when he's confused. You got him naked in your bed, what else did you think was going to happen? 29. Refusing to let him take control. So your a feminist. Big fucking deal. Letting him call the shots doesn't make you any less of one. 30. Refusing to take control. Its ok to crawl across a bed to him on all fours, push him down and crawl on top. It's not his responsibility to start things all the time. 31. Forgetting that he has a body that likes to be touched, too. Men have things like backs and shoulders and stomachs and other parts that are fun to kiss and touch. You miss a lot of good places by concentrating solely on his penis. 32. Ignoring his balls. Seriously, they are there. Kiss them, lick them, suck on them, make a relationship with them, just don't ignore them. 33. Leaving him to his own devices. Nothing is worse than a girl who gets you most of the way off and then bolts because she doesn't want to deal with the mess. 34. Launching into some speech about not being an object for sex when he tries to titty fuck you. Jesus Christ, just push them together and enjoy yourself. You get a great view. 35. Expecting him to handle you like a porcelain doll. I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're not going to break, sister. So doing it against the wall gives you a bruise on your shoulder. Look at it later and giggle at the memory. 36. Refusing to try things in the name of "making love". You're not making anything. You are naked. With another person. Making strange faces and weird noises. Stop romanticizing it. 37. Taking things way too seriously. Sex is funny. Actually it's hilarious. Somewhere along the line, someone is going to fall off of a bed, hit their head on a lighting fixture, accidentally kick a midget or trip over a goat. It's how you deal with it that really matters. 38. Throwing a bitch fit when he asks for a 3 some. Its the American dream. (I know my ex is reading this right now, so a quick interjection. One request for a 3 some is ok. Every 5 minutes, not so much. Know the difference). 39. Continuing a blow job knowing that you have god awful cotton mouth. Really. Grab a bottle of water. 40. Nails. Its one thing tracing them up and down your partners back. Its another when you snag the goods with a claw. 41. Bitching when you get jizz on you. You're having sex. That will happen. Thats the entire point of sex. Establish where he can and cant jizz and be done with it. Remember, it tightens the pores. 42. Not making any noises at all. Moan. Scream his name. Something so he knows he's the best you've had, even if he isn't. 43. Faking orgasms. Just. Don't. By faking (IF he believes you) he thinks he's doing everything right. And if he doesn't know its not working, he's not going to change it. Starting a vicious cycle of unfulfilling sex which will eventually be very damaging to his ego. 44. Not washing before sex. I know that sex is spontaneous, this is more of a general statement. If you haven't showered that day, and things smell a little...fishy...perhaps demanding oral sex is a little ridiculous of you. 45. Anything that involves inserting anything into his body that he has not specifically approved before hand. I don't care what Cosmo says, some things are simply not pleasant surprises. 46. Refusing to use oils/whipped cream/other messy but fun things because you have 541510630 count Egyptian cotton sheets that were made by hand by the only person alive capable of sewing that pattern. They'll wash. 47. Doing all of your before bed things before sex. Yes, sleeping with makeup on is bad. Now is not the time to remove it, you can do that later. And really fucking you with your hair in a ratty scrunchie with acne cream on your nose is not all its cracked up to be. 48. Cleaning up after sex. Wiping the splooge off is one thing. But changing the sheets immediately so you can get the other ones in the washer and then sanitizing everything your naked body might have possibly passed by is not the way to do it. 49. Making a big deal out of it if he loses his hard on. This is not an interrogation, or 20 questions. It happens, he's probably mortified and you are NOT helping. Refrain from using phrases like "it happens to every guy". Just move to other activities until it gets hard again, and if it doesn't, get off another way with him. He's still capable of getting you off. Mumbling "Forget it" and rolling over are not ok. 50. Asking questions right afterwards. The woman equivalent of "was it good for you?". Now is not a good time to ask "What this means". Right now, it means he probably needs to take a drink, a leak and a nap, perhaps not in that order. I was first sent this as a MySPace bulletin, but I thought it was too good not to share. Before some people (well women) get all mad let me state a few things. First, I thought people knew I was not politically correct, so being angry will not phase me. Second I read the “40 ways guys are bad in bed” e-mail a few times and it is mean spirited. While not all of these apply to every woman, there are some good tips in there. For example, I have stated for years that faking only hurts you, and all women that follow you. If he is doing something wrong it is because someone told him it was good. Every man I have talked to about sex knows that every woman’s body is different. So we know that what worked for one doesn’t work for all. But we will still try it because sometimes what worked for one will work for another. Next #27, I was messing around with a girl a long time ago and she took my hand and moved it saying, “this is good….but THIS is better.” I will always do what is better. That is just how I roll. I thought it was great that she did that. Give me direction, I’ll do that. If you tell a guy what to do and he doesn’t do that because he thinks he knows how to please you better than you do, well I think that is a pretty good indicator what kind of person he is and why would you hang out with a person like that? Of course there is a time and place. While in the midst of our fun a chick asked me if it would freak me out if she asked me to do something to her. Now it didn’t freak me out, and I was happy to help, but if it would have that might have killed the mood. If you think it might freak someone out, you might want to bring it at a different time than while riding them. That is just my suggestion, but do what you want to do.

Okay, first let me say, the only reason why I put it in this blog is because it compliments my other one. I thought I made shit clear, if you don’t bring your “A” game you don’t get to talk to me. Recently it seems like every person who has wanted to talk or exchange ideas has been bringing me their “B” game and I am getting sick of it. Here is the deal, if I tell you that your argument is stupid, than it is. Seriously, it is that simple. If I tell you a few times over the course of dicussing several points or over the course of the night keep bringing up that your arguments are flawed, TAKE THE FUCKING HINT! That means you are an idiot. I have the accountability and objectivity that in the midst of an argument I will ask you to stop so that I can consider your point. If I think I am wrong, I will admit it, I won’t continue to debate my point in order to save face. You have to consider the other point; you can’t just listen for ways to poke holes in the other person’s argument. Allow me to explain, I have had a number of discussions with people recently, and I am sick of their weak ass arguments. I am going to say this again, if you have the answer for a complex problem in one sentence you are most likely wrong, If you can say the problem and solution in one breath, you are without a doubt wrong. I wrote a blog about the argument that at 18 you are old enough to go to war, but not old enough to drink. Last night some guy brought up that point. I said that in the Army you spend a couple months training and that if you go to war you don’t go to war unsupervised, however you are expected to drink unsupervised. His counter point? Where can you do supervised underage drinking? That isn’t a valid point. No matter how you dress it up, if you don’t have a good counter to my point, it is still stupid. No matter what I had to say about it, he couldn’t get off that 18 year olds should be able to drink. To this day, I have not found a credible argument that will convince me that 18 year olds should legally be able to drink. You can break down the amount of information a person has into a few categories. A person who has no information on the topic, someone who has heard something about the topic, a person who has a lot of working knowledge and first hand knowledge and then you have the subject matter expert. When you read a book, you get the conclusions of another person, you have to get information from a number of sources to form your own conclusions. Otherwise you are just letting other people tell you what to think. If you have read a couple articles on a topic, that does not put you on the same level as a subject matter expert. If I tell you I am a subject matter expert and am trying to pass on my knowledge, do not interrupt me to correct me with something you read on yahoo three days ago. I will have to hit you. That level of stupidity really should not go unpunished. So for the love of all that is holy, if you ever want to get into some kind of discussion or debate, bring your mother fucking “A” game. You bring some weak ass shit my way and I will make you look and feel stupid. It will be your own fault, you accept that risk by engaging me in some stupid argument. I have big boy things to do, if you waste my time I will have to punish you.

I have been inspired by recent reactions to one of my recent blogs. Okay, really I just like to hear myself talk (or write as the case may be) and honestly I was going to write some of this but thought it might drag on too long. Here are some of the stuff that does not make the news. First of all you need to see the Taliban as I see them. Looking at past enemies they are benchwarmers. During the Vietnam War the enemy was well organized, well supplied, and highly dedicated. The Tet Offensive, while a tactical failure, was a very well coordinated, well planned action. It took massive communication, coordination, and most importantly, secrecy. You had tens of thousands of Viet Cong maneuvering into position prior to the Tet holiday and attack, multiple bases without alerting the US to the large scale attacks. Obviously there were indicators, but not enough so it was still a surprise. So here is how I see the Taliban, in my eyes they are like junior high bullies. The bullies at one school do not talk to the bullies at another school, so if you go from school to school they don’t have a consistent message. One bully just picks on smaller kids, another just beats up kids for lunch money, and another just smokes in the bathroom and picks on kids who come in. That is how I see the bad guys here. You see the Taliban are basically just guys with guns. There are a few that have leadership, and supplies, but most of them don’t. The Taliban are an all male organization, and men have pride. In American you can do a number of things to be important. You can play sports, make movies, play music, and there are things that can make you important at a local level without being famous, like make the best martini in town, win all the local karaoke contests, or get the most comments on Cherry Tap. In Afghanistan they do not have those options. The only way to feel strong, powerful or important is to get an AK-47, grab a couple buddies and go terrorize other people. Let’s talk tactics. The current lot of Talibitches (it’s a new word) are not the bad ass mofos that kicked some serious Russian ass. The best fighters either fight on our side, or are already dead. At this point you had better not talk trash about Afghans. I know a local who fought the Russians, fought the Taliban, in fact he was one of the fighters who helped us take the last stronghold of the Taliban. He loves the Coalition, especially Americans. He also loves his country and wants a better life for his people. If he was not on our side, we would be screwed. So some of the best people in this country, are on our side. The terrain can be quite restrictive especially in the middle of the country with all the mountains. They were quite good at ambushing. In fact there is a pass that you have to drive through to get from one area to another, one time 88 armored Russians vehicles went in, none came out. They used to have the tactics. Now, we hand them their ass. Seems the junior high bullies aren’t ready for the big time. I was on a camp in the south when I was working as a contractor and heard gunfire one night. There were a number of things wrong with that. We were too close to a major military base, US military drives armored vehicles, they are armed with big guns on top, the attacking force did not have anything that could penetrate armor, since they were close to a US base choppers could be in the air in seconds, and they attacked at NIGHT!!! We own the night, we have night vision on all our shit. You don’t attack the US at night, unless you really want your whole night ruined. Here is your crash course in ambush, there is an area they call the “kill zone” it is called that because once you initiate the ambush, everything in the kill zone is dead. When I was a grunt they used to teach us that if you are in the kill zone to rush the ambush. You are dead no matter what you do, so might as well take some with you, it is crazy enough that it might just fucking work. I know of well placed enemy ambushes where they couldn’t even hurt the people they were ambushing. I mean that no one even bumped their head while getting out of the vehicle. If you ambush someone and can’t even hurt the people you ambush, you need to get out of the ambushing business. And my man helped them with that. We have satellites, all kinds of cool planes and electronic stuff, plus people on the ground. We can gather intel all kinds of fun ways. How do the Taliban do it? They watch CNN and act off that. The news loves to blab all our movements, and the current crop of bad guys are pretty media savvy. But truth be told, I could take any five jokers off the street and if I had a few weeks to train them I could do more damage in a day than the Taliban do in an entire month. And I am not even that bad ass. You get some people with some cool schools and tabs and they could do even better. Seriously, me a Marine and a bunch of people with no training and I could run a better war than the Talibitches. The only thing that works in their favor is that they recruit more. If I blindfolded you, put you on the 50 yard line and had ten people stand on random spots around the field. With enough tennis balls eventually you would hit somebody. And that is pretty much the Taliban strategy, throw enough “martyrs” at the infidels and odds are you will get someone some of the time. So to wrap it up, I don’t take the Taliban that seriously. (and neither should you) I don’t let my guard because one of them could get lucky. Luck is the thing you can’t count on. However fortune favors the prepared mind and my mind is prepared. If the situation arises and they are lucky, I might have a problem, but if it is skill on skill I am going to ruin their whole day.