Tuesday, January 11, 2022

Acting 1SG Lawes reads the morning formation annoucements

 Comp-ney, Atten-shun!

At ease.

Okay just one thing today, so listen up.

Bretheren. Fellow sinners.

I come to you this morning with a tale of the deepest and weightiest eschatology, a parable of the righteous and the unrighteous, and, also, of Private Black, who stands amongst you like the sheep amongst the goats.

Brother Black...may I call you brother, Private Black? Thenk-yew. Brother Black came to me, when I was indwelling in my studies which is to say I was reviewing the S-4 requests your various platoon sergeants have provided to me and, no, AT Platoon, you are not getting a fucking Reaper drone, not just no but fuck no, so don't even try that shit again. 

And thereupon rousing me from my orisons Brother Black informed me that he had received "direct divine instruction" that he need not perform the extra duty imposed upon him by the Company Commander the previous Wednesday due to a certain incident at the Flaming Mug involving a bottle of Wesson Oil and three Cambodian sisters.

Now my brothers...my heart was troubled by this.

I was cast into the keelson-deep despair by the thought of my brother Black finding that his Lord and Savior found fault with his buffing the dayroom floor to a sort of crystalline perfection that I, too, suddenly found myself in the presence of the Almighty.

"I am but a sinner, oh Lord," I said, "but if Thou shalt enlighten me then I shall be exalted by your wisdom."

"A sinner thou art" The Creator replied, "But not as big a fucking liar as young Mister Black here, who just wants to ditch his extra duty so he and his yobo can go to the pushbutton and get drunk and screw."

"Then what shall I do, oh Lord?" I asked, and the Lord replied; "Fucking smite his young ass as hard as it will bear, and spare not the rod or spoil the private."

So, my brothers, you will see young Private Black communing with the spirits of Johnson Paste Wax and the dayroom floor all the rest of this week, and it is with a full and contrite heart I come to you saying; try. 

Just fucking try. 

That shit on me.  

And thou shalt find thyselves face-down on my desk and I will apply the rod of the UCMJ to your young asses, and in full measure shall you learn wisdom from the smiting. For sayeth the FM: the ears of a private are in his ass, and hearing cometh from a good solid kicking.

I have BEEN to the mountaintop, oh my brothers, and you do NOT want to fuck with me and find out what I found there.

Thus endeth the lesson.

Any questions?

I didn't think so.

Comp-ney, Atten-shun!

Platoon sergeants, take charge.


 

2 comments:

mike said...

Why do I get the feeling that the Parable of Private Black alludes to a sh1tbird of a different color?

FDChief said...

The genesis of this one was at the link in the post; some Trumpkin federal judge let a bunch of Navy SOF guys off the vaccine hook for "religious" reasons, and one of the four was if they had gotten "direct, divine instruction" not to get vaxxed.

All I could think of was "Shit! Why didn't I think of that?!?" when 1SG Smith informed me that I needed to clean every single one of my platoon's .45s by COB Monday.

So no particular shitbird there, just a bunch of them pretending that Jay-zus doesn't want them to get the jab. Fuck that noise. But in passing...WTF is with the SEALs? I mean, between getting regularly waxed everywhere from Punta Patilla to Afghanistan, war criminals, now this?

I think we need to figure out what's going on there...