Thursday, June 30, 2005

More Women are Getting Sh** Faced Than Men

Ripped off the headlines and straight to your monitor, women have decided to get sh** faced for the sake of beauty. "We're putting feces on our face," professor Elizabeth Brooks said. "Not a fun thing to do." It seems a necessary one though for some woman. Does it seem too much to ask for women to put a little pooh on their face to look beautiful? I guess not as the industry has announced a new line of pooh products just for these women that feel that feces makes them look better and younger.
Est De Crappy was the first to incorporate the excrement into their line with MudSlide Beauty Mask. After the success with the mask next came the Dookie Daily Moisturizing Crème, then the latest, the Brown-Eye Liner. It seems the only draw back to the Est De Crappy line is that it seems to attract an inordinate amount of gay men.
Now when dads tell their high school girls to wipe that sh** off their face and yell at their wife to hurry up and just slap that sh** on so we can go, they can smile at the irony.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Reminiscing (A Phat History Lesson)

B-Cack called me this morning and we began reminiscing about the glory days. B-Cack graciously reminded me that there are military stories that start off with something other than “There I was, no sh**”. So here is one of those stories.

We were drinking one night, because of a great idea of mine to buy a bottle of Jack and see if 3 soldiers could empty it in enough time to still go out that evening and have some fun. It was me, Expletive Delph, and “Soldier That Will Remain Nameless”(For rest of story just Will) drinking that night. Shortly into our drinking, I realized that I didn’t really like Jack that much, which in turn has given Will a reason to blame me for the rest of the events that happened that evening because I didn’t drink my share of Jack.

After the bottle was finished, it was time to pick our destination and descend on it like barbaric hordes. Our target, Hard Rock 1. Hard Rock 1 was a Hard Rock Café knock off there in Darmstadt. Already being more than half lit, we bellied up to the bar and ordered the first round of beer. Expletive Delph took about one sip of his beer then got up to go to the latrine (army talk for toilet), which left me and Will at the bar guarding his beer. It’s during this time that I noticed a young frau down the bar from us. (Note: there is an abundance of women in Germany between the ages of 18-21 since they conscript all able body males into the army, plus German men are pansies.) Now, having consumed enough liquid courage, I decided to strike up some conversation with this woman. Will had become pretty consumed with trying to find the bottom of his liter beer and wasn’t very talkative and I was always on the look out for some Euro hospitality.
I thought for a second about the angle that I would use to approach this woman and decided that since she was smoking, I could ask her for a cigarette and that would get the ball rolling(note: all Euros smoke, even the non-smokers smoke socially). I turned to Will, since he spoke Deutcher talk, and asked him how to say, “Can I have a cigarette please.”
Will responded, “Haben sie ein cigaretten fur mich, bitte?”(my apologies to all people who can actually spell German words)
I said, “wait a second…one more time” It’s strange how the ears and mind don’t work together well after a few rounds.
Will repeated it for me and I practiced it a few times to myself to get it down.
Now normally being a drunk guy is quite attractive for the fairer sex. Stop laughing! I figured being as inebriated as I was that I was going to score for sure.
I turned to the woman, focused, she turned and made eye contact, then I let her have a piece of my amazing grasp on the German language.
“You got a cigarette for me…..bitte?”
I turned to Will, gave him the thumbs up for helping me out with the German and then refocused on the lady.
O.k. Don Juan I am not, but she did give me a cigarette and then quickly relocated her self some where far away from me. The lesbian! Oh well, at least I didn’t waste money on buying her a drink.
More happened that night, but I will save it for another post.

Reminiscing Part 2 (A Phat History Lesson)
For more Phat History:
A Phat History Lesson (Part 1)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 2)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 3)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 4)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 5)

Gay Pride is….Well Gay


How did what you like to have sex with become a basis for pride? There was a time that pride cam from an accomplishment and parades were reserved for heroes and thanksgiving. Now all you have to do is be a grown man sodomizing another grown man and “presto”; here is your parade, have a fabulous time. Yes, Gay Pride obviously means that there are people that are proud to wear leather gimp outfits, diapers and cross dress, because that’s seems to be the majority of the people marching in their parade. How does being overweight and wearing a leotard with a too-too show that you’re proud.

I doubt that a hetero pride parade would draw a large crowd, not too mention that most heteros don’t think that it’s a big accomplishment to be hetero. I don’t think I ever stopped to tell people, ”hey I like sex with women and am very proud of it. Don’t forget to come to the parade.” I guess I’m just not used to flaunting my private life in the streets while wearing stupid clothing. I think if they changed the name from “Gay Pride Parade” to “Yeah Sodomy Parade” I could at least respect them for being honest. So JimmyB please add gay pride parades on your gay list. Besides being completely gay for being…well gay, its also gay to have a parade about your sexuality.

Also on a side note a Honda Del Sol is mega gay.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Completely Insensitive Jokes for Michael Jackson

You’ve waited a little to hear the next edition of Insensitive Jokes, so here are some more for Michael Jackson. Remember to vote on next week’s target of this blatant insensitivity in the comment section.

Q: How does Michael Jackson pick his nose?
A: From a catalogue.

Q: Have you heard about Michael Jackson's New Book?
A: It's called "The In's and Out's of Child Rearing”.

Q: How do you know Michael Jackson is having a party?
A: There is a bunch of tricycles in front of his house.

Q: Why was Michael Jackson spotted at K-Mart?
A: He heard boys' pants were half-off!

Q: When is it bed time at Michael Jackson’s house?
A: When the big hand is on the little hand!

Q: What do Michael Jackson and a jockey have in common?
A: They both ride three-year-olds.

Q: What's the worst stain to try and remove from a little boy's underpants?
A: Michael Jackson's makeup.

Q: What did the lady at the beach say to Michael Jackson?
A: I believe you’re in my son.

Q: What's the difference between Michael Jackson and a grocery bag?
A: One is plastic and harmful to children, the other is used to carry groceries.

Q: What does Michael Jackson consider a perfect 10?
A: Two 5 year olds.

Q: What do Michael Jackson and a Big Mac have in common?
A: They're both 44-year-old meat between 10-year-old buns!

Q: Why did Michael Jackson place a phone call to Boyz-2-Men?
A: He thought it was a delivery service.

Q: Why are Michael Jackson's pants so small?
A: Because they aren't his!

Q: How did Michael Jackson get in trouble?
A: He was feeling a little Randy.

Q: How do we know Michael Jackson is guilty?
A: Several children have fingered him.

Q: What is the difference between zits and Michael Jackson?
A: Zits wait till puberty to spurt white stuff on your face.

Michael Jackson asked his wife's doctor how soon after the birth could they have
sex. The doctor told him he should wait until the kid is at least 12 or 13 years
old.

Close-to-complete Ideology and Religion Sh** List

• Taoism: Sh** happens.
• Confucianism: Confucius say, "Sh** happens."
• Buddhism: If sh** happens, it isn't really sh**.
• Zen Buddhism: Sh** is, and is not.
• Zen Buddhism #2: What is the sound of sh** happening?
• Hinduism: This sh** has happened before.
• Islam: If sh** happens, it is the will of Allah.
• Islam #2: If sh** happens, kill the person responsible.
• Islam #3: If sh** happens, blame Israel.
• Catholicism: If sh** happens, you deserve it.
• Protestantism: Let sh** happen to someone else.
• Presbyterian: This sh** was bound to happen.
• Episcopalian: It's not so bad if sh** happens, as long as you serve the right wine with it.
• Methodist: It's not so bad if sh** happens, as long as you serve grape juice with it.
• Congregationalist: Sh** that happens to one person is just as good as sh** that happens to another.
• Unitarian: Sh** that happens to one person is just as bad as sh** that happens to another.
• Lutheran: If sh** happens, don't talk about it.
• Fundamentalism: If sh** happens, you will go to hell, unless you are born again. (Amen!)
• Fundamentalism #2: If sh** happens to a televangelist, it's okay.
• Fundamentalism #3: Sh** must be born again.
• Judaism: Why does this sh** always happen to us?
• Calvinism: Sh** happens because you don't work.
• Seventh Day Adventism: No sh** shall happen on Saturday.
• Creationism: God made all sh**.
• Secular Humanism: Sh** evolves.
• Christian Science: When sh** happens, don't call a doctor - pray!
• Christian Science #2: Sh** happening is all in your mind.
• Unitarianism: Come let us reason together about this sh**.
• Quakers: Let us not fight over this sh**.
• Utopianism: This sh** does not stink.
• Darwinism: This sh** was once food.
• Capitalism: That's MY sh**.
• Communism: It's everybody's sh**.
• Feminism: Men are sh**.
• Chauvinism: We may be sh**, but you can't live without us...
• Commercialism: Let's package this sh**.
• Impressionism: From a distance, sh** looks like a garden.
• Idolism: Let's bronze this sh**.
• Existentialism: Sh** doesn't happen; sh** IS.
• Existentialism #2: What is sh**, anyway?
• Stoicism: This sh** is good for me.
• Hedonism: There is nothing like a good sh** happening!
• Mormonism: God sent us this sh**.
• Mormonism #2: This sh** is going to happen again.
• Wicca: An it harm none, let sh** happen.
• Scientology: If sh** happens, see "Dianetics", p.157.
• Jehovah's Witnesses: “Knock Knock” Sh** happens.
• Jehovah's Witnesses #2: May we have a moment of your time to show you some of our sh**?
• Jehovah's Witnesses #3: Sh** has been prophesied and is imminent; only the righteous shall survive its happening.
• Moonies: Only really happy sh** happens.
• Hare Krishna: Sh** happens, rama rama.
• Rastafarianism: Let's smoke this sh**!
• Zoroastrianism: Sh** happens half on the time.
• Church of Sub Genius: BoB sh**s.
• Practical: Deal with sh** one day at a time.
• Agnostic: Sh** might have happened; then again, maybe not.
• Agnostic #2: Did someone sh**?
• Agnostic #3: What is this sh**?
• Satanism: SNEPPAH TIHS.
• Atheism: What sh**?
• Atheism #2: I can't believe this sh**!
• Nihilism: No sh**.

Hat Tip to the ever popular B-Cack

Monday, June 27, 2005

Hippies Gone Wild

B-Cack sent me a pic of an anti war protest with a bunch of hippies. Normally I would just make fun of their smelliness and socialist ways. Then I noticed something. Those hippies sure know how to recruit men to the anti war movement.

Ladies, sorry but men in general are pigs and college men more so than average work-a-day men are. Sure we might mature a little, but it doesn’t take much to distract us. My wife definitely knows how to get her way around the house. (Go ahead lay in with the p-whipped jokes; any married man will tell you that marriage is full of compromise, usually on our side.) So you got a gaggle of hippy women, converting college man after college man to join their crusade and for what; a chance to score that’s what.
Think what kind of crowd the conservative movement could draw if we had our non-smelly women exposing themselves at our rally; that and free beer. O.K. so it goes against some of the conservative movement’s values, and we don’t want to start tailoring our message to increase membership at the expense of our values. Of course if you don’t know that men lose their resolve quickly in the face of naked women, then your grasp on reality is loose at best. It doesn’t matter what the women are preaching, if there are a lot of them and there is a chance to see some boobies, men will be there cheering them on.
So for the sake of the conservative movement, please ladies, show more conservative boobies.

The Seventh Sign

Lock your doors, read your bibles, and spread lambs blood on the door frame; the end of the world is near. At Billy Graham’s last sermon he, in front of 80 thousand people, mentioned that Hillary Clinton should run the country. Taken from the news at yahoo.com Graham called the Clintons “wonderful friends” and “a great couple,” quipping that the former president should become an evangelist and allow “his wife to run the country.” Shortly after this statement the temple’s foundation cracked and baby Jesus cried.
While we’re at it Reverend Graham, lets let Marylin Manson be the next pope and clone Al Capone so that we can make him the director of the FBI. Perhaps we can let Binladen head the CIA, and make Jane Fonda Secretary of Defense. If we’re going to put evil in charge we should go all the way.
I guess we should blame Graham’s failing health as the reason that such statements were made. He might have skipped his morning dose of Geritol. Unfortunately the damage has been done so all good people will need to combat this by saying a little prayer.
“God, please don’t let Hillary win her reelection bid for the senate and strike down her campaign manager and spin doctor with righteous vengeance, Amen.”

Sunday, June 26, 2005

What Is Torture?

In the last few weeks, my thoughts about what torture is have come under scrutiny by a lot of different people. So I thought if I made a list and asked my readers which ones they thought were torture I would have a better idea of what the consensus is when it comes to identifying torture. I’ve numbered them so that you can write in the comment section on which ones you find the most torturous.

1. Being forced to sleep outside in sub-zero weather without shelter
2. Being forced to sleep outside in 100 degree weather without shelter
3. Being forced to sleep next to a generator
4. Being forced to listen to loud offensive music
5. Being forced in to stress positions for hours at a time in a 100 degree weather
6. Sleep depravation
7. Food depravation
8. Forced marches with 80 + pounds on your back
9. Being hit with an open hand
10. Having pins being pounded into your chest
11. Being kept in a kennel overnight to keep you from sleeping
12. Having some one threaten you with physical violence
13. Having someone draw their weapon, point it at you and squeeze the trigger without there being rounds in said weapon
14. Not being allowed to go to religious service because you were forced to be outside in the elements
15. Being put into a steel box that did not give you enough room to stand up completely or lay down completely
16. Having rounds being fired over your head
17. Being forced to breath CS gas in a closed room

I’ll stop there because by now you are thinking that having all those things being done to you would be hell. I can tell you at times it was. All these things were experienced by me, or my Army buddies, during our time in the Army. It was called training. Combat is a stressful and demanding exercise. The only way you can make it through such a stressful and demanding excersise is to be able to draw from past experiences and say, “I made it through that; I can make it through this.” Some of things I listed were just things done to me or my buddies as jokes, like the weapon being drawn and pointed at me, others were parts of SERE school, and the rest was just regular field excersises. I know that you probably didn’t find it funny, but most civilians don’t have the same sense of humor combat arms soldiers do. Believe me when I say that the person that did that to me was one of the best soldiers I’ve ever met and I was glad to have him on my side. You see the Army trains it's soldiers to be tough. That means give them as much stress as possible in a controlled atmosphere to toughen them up, so when they are in battle they can draw on those experiences for strength to get them through it. I think that the people that feel we are torturing the terrorists being held at Gitmo, have probably never been through anything mentally or physically challenging. That’s why they feel its torture, because they know that they could never survive it. To those people I say this, “Stop being such a pansy. These people at Gitmo are willing to blow themselves up, live in caves, starve, and dehydrate themselves to kill Americans. Their life is not that tough at Gitmo compared to their life as a terrorist.”

Saturday, June 25, 2005

The Minority Report

Despite what most people think about it, Alabama is a diverse state; as long as you think diverse means being either white or black. I’ve notice a drop in comments and rise in visits in the last week, so I’ve decided to reach out to the other half here in Alabama by letting some of my minority friends post on my blog. I was a minority in my high school and am privileged enough to have two friends that can give the black perspective of current events. I introduce to you Al’ Shabaz X and Gangsta Petey with the Minority Report:

Al’ Shabaz X: “ This week there was outrage in the Racist Republican Party because some white senator said that some white government was torturing black men in Gitmo. The real outrage is that this is just another example of the white man oppressing the black man.”

Gangsta Petey: “They aint black, yo. They’s like a tan. Black men don’t where towels and dresses. Why you called Al’ Shabaz anyway, and what’s with the dashiki?”

Al’ Shabaz X: “I threw off the chains of my racist slave name when I came to realize that I need to represent my true culture and heritage.”

Gangsta Petey: “Man, you from Northwest H-ville yo. Yo mama’s name is Sylvia. You just perpetrating.”

Al’ Shabaz X: “It’s uneducated brothers like you that will keep the black man from ever being respected. Moving on. There is a movement within the Nazi Republicans to make burning the flag unconstitutional. Now the white supremacists will stifle our lawful protest of their racist war.”

Gangsta Petey: “Hold up, G. The only brothas I know burning the flag are them Arabs and those tie die wearin Mutha F**kas. As hot as it is over in the desert, they shouldn’t be burnin nothin, and those tie die wearing Mutha Fu**kas smell like wet dog and chronic, thems guys should be washin something, not burnin nothin.”

Al’ Shabaz X: “Aren’t you late to your drive by and drug deal?.... In Aruba, a freaky deaky Dutch man raped an Alabama girl, killed her and ditched the body, but notice they have two brothers locked up for a white on white crime. Racism international all over the news. If it was a black girl from Alabama it wouldn’t have made the local paper."

Gangsta Petey: “Damn you seen this ho’s picture. That b**ch is fine, dog. What a waste of a perfectly good white girl. You know two brothas weren’t gonna let that white bread chicken sh** have all the fun yo. They probably waxed that a$$ to. The black brothas wouldn’t have capped her doe, can't pimp a dead ho.”

Al’ Shabaz X: “You’re so ghetto.”

Gangsta Petey: “Sheeit, you just a little Farakahn. Man, I’m audi G."

Al’ Shabaz X: “Be here next week for more examples of the racist government suppressing the black man.”

Friday, June 24, 2005

Things That I Was Not Allowed to do in The Army

Reading the Carnival of Comedy today I read a post about a soldier who documented things that he was either told not to do or witnessed other soldier being told not to do. I have to say that it was the funniest thing I read today. After seeing this list I realized I had been told by officers and NCOs (and witnessed other soldiers being told) not to do a lot of things, of course always after I had done them. So here are a few choice lawful commands given in bullet form:

• You are not allowed to call your weapon a “gat”.
• You are not allowed to hold your weapon “gangsta” style.
• You are not allowed to beat a car with a baseball bat in the barracks parking lot. Even if it’s your car.
• You are not allowed to pull fire watch in LBE, gas mask, flip-flops, and nothing else.
• You are not allowed to display your liquor bottle collection like trophies.
• 1 case of beer and 1 bottle of liquor per barracks room, does not mean one of each per person, for everyone who happens to be in your room.
• You are not allowed to give the first sergeant the “finger”.
• You are not allowed to use a spotter scope to hunt down officers to salute.
• You are not allowed to put naked pictures of men in the lieutenant’s equipment.
• You are not allowed to make a “special” box of MREs, filled with nothing but chicken stew, to give to Ranger Mac.
• You are not allowed to pretend to be SF to get a ride across Camp Bondsteel.
• You are not allowed to tell a new private to “go to commo and get the PRC (pronounced prick) E-7, but don’t get the black one; it doesn’t work”.
• It is not appropriate, during a urine test, to take a dump.
• You are not allowed to curse during a brief back to an officer, even if you are using the word as an adjective and adverb.
• You are not allowed to place bets on who can stay in the gas chamber the longest with out their gas mask.
• In conjunction with last order, you are not allowed to fight in the gas chamber to make the other soldier lose.
• You are not allowed to let Albanian children wrestle for MREs.
• You are not allowed to throw white pepper at Albanians.
• You are not allowed to write “Joe Porter runs sh** around here.” on any wildlife.
• You are not allowed to write “Joe porter runs sh** around here.” on anything anymore.
• In a SITREP report, for the weather conditions, you are not allowed to write “..partly cloudy with a 100% chance of suck a$$”.
• You are not allowed to say “Halt oder Ich sheisse!” on QRF patrol in germany, no matter how funny it is. (yes sheisse means sh**)

Welcome to Town Carnival of Comedy #9, (Try not to knock up any of the townsfolk)

It only took space monkey 1 whole day to number the entries for the Carnival of Comedy (he has small hands….and smells like cabbage). We should honor this achievement by going there to look at the funny. (plus they posted one of mine again) Hurry to the Carnival of Comedy before all the carnies get drunk and pass out.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Stupid Questions and Accusations Response Team

A precision guided
humor assignment


There is a saying in the Army that holds true for most of the accusations that moon-batty senators sling at our soldiers and country. That saying is “admit nothing, deny everything, and make counter-accusations”. This is the way we should treat all ass-hat questions at a press conference caused by some wacky leftist’s remarks. For example:

NY Times reporter: “What do you have to say about Sen. Durbin’s comparison of Gitmo to Nazis, Communist regimes, and Pol Pot.?”
Response Team: “Sen. Durbin rapes goats in an attempt to breed the perfect Democrat candidate. He can not be trusted to give opinions on anything but on the best way to corner a goat. Next question.”

Washington Post reporter: “Is there any validity to what Congressman Maurice Hinchey said about Karl Rove being the cause of the memos used by Dan Rather?”
Response Team: “Congressman Hinchey and Dan Rather are lovers and are trying to pull attention away from the fact that their love child was put up for adoption years ago.”
Washington Post reporter: “Aren’t they both men?”
Response Team: “How sexist of you to think that only a man and a woman can have a child. Stupid homophobe. Next question.”

L.A. Times reporter: “What is the white house’s response to Rosie O’Donnel saying that President Bush should be tried at Hague for war crimes?”
Response Team: “Rosie is secretly adopting children so that she can eat them. This would explain her ability to remain as large and bloated as she does.”

That should be the way those kinds of questions are answered. Also to give our Response Team an air of authority, we will have three of them. One will be dressed as a general, another like a priest, and the last like a doctor. They can take turns answering questions depending on the style and silliness.

New Army Slogans

Everyone knows how gay the “Army of One” slogan is. The slogan is probably why recruiting is down. I was speaking to B-Cack about this and he said it was a good idea to go ahead and start thinking of new slogans to help the Army get its message across and inspire people to join. Here are a few suggestions for the generals over there at the Department of Defense, in bullet form.
• “Shoot ‘em in the Face.” This one is more of a battle cry than a slogan I guess.
• “Only you can prevent terrorist fire.”
• “Chicks dig scars and guys with guns” probably increase the amount of true killers to join.
• “…Bringing freedom since 1776.”
• “Flush a Q’uran, smack a jihadist, and listen to some rap music, in the Army.” Probably go over real well in our more urban areas.
• “Don’t be a hippie, join the Army.”
• “All who join will be able to spit on Jane Fonda without legal repercussions.” I’m not sure why that one makes my mouth water.
• “We don’t eat as well as terrorists, but we shoot a lot better.”

It still early so I’ll add more if I think of them. Leave your ideas in the comment section.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

An Explanation for Expletive Delph

For those who are not my regular readers and who have not read “A Phat History Lesson (Part 2)”, Expletive Delph is an Army buddy of mine. Delph had gone through RIP (Ranger Indoctrination Program) with me and it turned out we were sent to the same unit in Germany, where we ended up being roommates. Now the relationship between us was more like being brothers, seeing as how we always ended up together; even if we really didn’t want it that way. For any one that knows Delph, they know there is only so much Expletive Delph one can handle before you kill him. Yes, Delph would get wound up, announce”Delph is on baby” and then at like an ADD bastard child that got into a case of snickers bars.
I couldn’t get rid of him. We even ended up being roommates when we were both sent to ILRS (International Long Range Surveillance) school. By the way, the chose who would room with each other by initial test scores and because we had both been prepped the same, we both made about the same on the test, and hence being roomed together again. This is where I first learned that Delph had a bad habit of locking doors. Ya, at the German barracks we were staying at during the school, the doors locked and unlocked with a key only, form inside and outside. We had 1 key for the two of us. One morning he asked if I was going to breakfast. I told him I was going to get some more rack time instead. He left and locked me in the room without my knowledge. Needless to say when I woke up to get a shower, shave and get dressed for class, I couldn’t leave our 10 x 10 room. I ended up, banging on the door and cursing at a Royal Marine Commando by accident thinking it was Delph. It was about 5 minutes before class, while I was contemplating jumping out of the 2nd story window, when Delph showed up.
This was not the last time Delph had screwed me over with door keys. We both went on a single soldiers retreat (no not to meet women it was sponsored by the chaplain for something, it was really just a good way to get a three day weekend) to Bavaria. We were staying at the AFEES hotel, again with only one key between us, and the first night he locked me out of the room. He decided that he was going to stay at the hotel bar and drink (did I mention he was a lush), and I decided to go out on the town and drink with the locals. I wasn’t going to hang out at the hotel bar; it was like a sausage fest there. So I came back to the room about 2 am, knocked on the door to be let in and….nothing. If you wanted to see one pissed off Phat Tony, you could have walked down the hall of the hotel and seen me cursing Delph as loud as could, while giving the hotel door a sound beating. (Ok, so I had a few chardonnays what of it?) I eventually had to walk a few blocks to the front desk (the hotel was split into two different sections almost a half mile apart) and get a spare key. So I walk into the room, see Expletive Delph passed out on the bed, curse him a few more times, take his meal tickets for the free food, and lay down on my bed to get some rack.
Does it stop there? No. later that very night I’m woke up by the sound of rain, and realize that the window was open. I sit up and was ready to jump out of bed to keep our whole room from getting soaked, and instead of rain coming in from the window; I see Delph standing in front of the TV relieving himself. I say, “What the F**k are you doing?” He replies, “Delph is on!” and then moves over to the window so he can continue urinating hoping to keep it off of the carpet. If he wasn’t so drunk, he might have realized that there was a screen on the window, and while some of it was making outside some was splashing back on him. (I did say he was a lush right?)
Aaah the Army life. It’s like a frat house with weapons.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

FrankJ's Worse Nightmare

So after seing Jimmyb and others being linked on IMAO today, the ugliness that is jealousy rose like bile from my belly and into my fingertips to unleash FrankJ's worse nightmare onto the blogododecahedron. Take a look at my minions and post me FrankJ.

These attack monkeys will easily subdue your ninja cat and ride it like a $2 hooker. They will wreak havoc on you, biting, clawing, cutting you to ribbons with their tiny swords.(Not to mention they throw poo.) Just know, FrankJ, that these attack monkeys will not rest until I'm linked on IMAO; or at least blogrolled.

A Phat History Lesson (Part 5)

A Phat History Lesson (Part 1)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 2)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 3)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 4)


No sh**, there I was, down one Muslim from the team and back at the bottom of the ladder. SSg Wrinkle Grommet Wasn’t in the best of moods but still didn’t bother me too much. Of course, I didn’t help things much by making jokes about how he needs to treat the new guy, Spc CID, to keep him from offing himself. Look, that’s the way the army is, you make a bunch of insensitive jokes.
So Spc CID comes to the team about 3 weeks after Mohammed meets the train. He was an MI Weenie but decided to join the Infantry to help gain rank. It’s easy to make rank in the Infantry and a lot of people in other MOS’s switch over to make NCO then go back to their pogue ways after getting the collar weight. Now Spc CID wasn’t much of a soldier, he was MI for Pete’s sake, and SSg Wrinkle Grommet had taken upon himself to make Spc CID a steely eyed killer. (Like ME)
He explained to Spc CID that he needed to toughen up and show some motivation, the Infantry wasn’t for the timid. I guess Spc CID wasn’t buying it. Maybe AIT (primary school for soldiers where you get your specialized training) just didn’t motivate him to kill enough. He was kind of fun to have around though. It turns out Spc CID hadn’t been put through all the army jokes at his old MI unit. We had him running around the whole company one day looking for a 9mm blank adapter (doesn’t exist) until he finally got sent to FSgt D-Bol who looked at him then said “What is wrong with you?”
Any way things were pretty much back to normal, then about 3 months after Spc CID had arrived all hell broke loose for SSg Wrinkle Grommet. We were standing in morning formation and SSg Wrinkle Grommet noticed the absence of Spc CID, so he sent his assistant team leader over to Spc CID’s apartment. The assistant team leader cam back with the dreaded news, Spc CID was gone. That’s right; he upped and got the heck out of dodge. Cleaned his apartment, packed his family up, took his wife and kid and hopped a plane back to the states.
Now the rumors start about Spc CID being a CID (criminal investigation division) special agent, there to investigate SSg Wrinkle Grommet about the whole ‘Mohammed catching a train’ thing. This pisses SSg Wrinkle Grommet off to no end and decides to take out his frustration on me, the lowest man on the ladder, AGAIN! I guess I didn’t help much with my ‘don’t kill a private today jokes’ during the time that Spc CID was there on our team, but still it was hell for me. Room inspections every day, smoke sessions (forced exercise until muscle failure) for hours, and all the crap jobs had become a daily routine. It came to a head one day after the regular daily room inspection when I was told that I didn’t vacuum my carpet. I did by the way, the carpet was as old as I was, and looked like crap. I was told to pack all my stuff up and move out into the hallway. Now I had been around long enough to have accumulated a lot of stuff. So to get over on the system I sold everything I couldn’t fit into my duffle bags to my roommate, Expletive Delph, to keep from having to move it. All though SSg Wrinkle Grommet couldn’t say much about that move, since I obeyed the letter of the law, he said it took me to long and the smoke session began. It got to the point that day where I couldn’t even move my arms. So after smoking me for 2 hours he then asked me if I wanted to go to the wood line (basically going to the wood line is settling your differences by doing some hand to hand combat training) I was mad enough to go but unfortunately my arms weren’t working well enough to swing with any sort of velocity. It would have been a slaughter and there is no point in being tired and beat up.
The worse 4 months of my life because of a Muslim and a MI weenie. SSg Wrinkle Grommet moved to a different unit just short of me losing my cool and going off in a way that would have landed me in a gulag. So here is to you SSg Wrinkle Grommet, I hope you catch a venereal disease.

Monday, June 20, 2005

Train to Torture Terrorists

Don’t have the time to go to Gitmo and flush a Q’uran? Don’t have the money to go to Gitmo and fool with the AC? Well don’t worry, now you can help torture terrorists from the comfort of your home. Terrorist Torturer 2.0 can help you make rap music that would offend any Muslim’s ears.



Just point, clicks, and produce music that makes even the most hardened jihadist squirm. Customize your very own rap hit that is sure to oppress the killers that reside at Club Gitmo. So come on all you evil conservatives, let’s show those terrorists how we run a gulag.

The New IMAO Podcast

Get your coffee and settle down for some funny. The new podcast rocks so take a listen.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Rosie Rants on George’s Stance

So Rosie O'Fat Lesbian is spouting off at the pie hole again, this time to Geraldo on fox news. First she equates her and her fish-eating friend getting married to the civil rights marches in Selma. News flash Rosie, black people don't get to decide what color they are. That's right I said it. Gay people make a decision to be gay. No body forces people to sodomize each other. You know what the difference between best friends who are the same sex and a gay couple are? The best friends don't have sex with each other. Too many people equate love with sex these days. What are they animals that can't control when they have sex and with who? Whatever.

Rosie doesn't stop there though. Next she says that war is wrong and that Jane Fonda is her hero for standing up against the war in Vietnam. Well if war is wrong, then I guess killing jooos, slavery, natzism, fascism, and mass murder is right. I'm pretty sure that war was the reason that those things were brought to an end. Also, if Jane Fonda is Rosie's hero, then I think everyone can tell what a blathering, "Hate America First", idiot Rosie is. Only a moron would call a traitor to our country a hero.

So how could Rosie top off her wacko leftist views? Say that G W is a war criminal and should be tried at Hague, that's how. She says that he invaded a sovereign nation without UN approval. So Fricken what! Since when does the UN have America's interest at heart? They're to busy bashing jooos, appeasing dictators, and grifting money from the Oil for Food program to actually enforce a resolution that they passed. If there was anything that America should pull out of it would be the UN. What a worthless organization. That fact remains that Iraq(u), broke the cease fire agreement many times, didn't follow the UN resolution imposed on them, and completely sucked at the whole war thing. Not America's problem for them not being able to follow instructions.

So in closing, Rosie please be a quiet lesbian that I might be able to respect in stead of a loud, obnoxious, fat, left wing lunatic. Nuff said.

Editor's note: I couldn't find Rosie's email to send her my piece, her web site is filled with poems by 5 year olds or something. Rechecked her web site it's not poems she just doesn't know how to fix the margins, everything looks like it was wrote in prose. She did further the lie that some one planted the documents that ended Dan (Courage) Rather's career, what a mental giant that one.

Thanks to My Dad on Father’s Day

There comes a time every year when most of us take time out of our day to thank our dads for putting up with us for as long as they have. Today is that day and time. I’ve decided to use my blog to thank my dad for a few things in bullet form.

  • Thank you dad for not being a liberal hippie democrat and telling mom to abort me, you’ve strengthened the conservative movement just by refraining from killing me.
  • Thank you dad for teaching me to shoot a firearm at such a young age. You’ve equipped me with a skill that is quite useful to combat socialists that want to take my wealth and give it to lazy people.
  • Thank you dad for making me watch Monty Python’s Holy Grail. I’m now able to use silly quotes and also have seen the "violence inherit in the system" and well never let my self "be repressed".
  • Thank you dad for being so handy. It’s unfortunate that I never picked up that quality of being able to fix anything, please for the love of God don’t die until I can afford to hire people to fix things.
  • Thank you dad for giving me siblings. Next to them, I can do no wrong.
  • Thank you dad for your service to our country. Despite you being a pogue (a non-combat arms soldier), you still get all my army jokes and that’s one more person that understands my silliness.
  • Thank you dad for not making a lot of money when you had the chance. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if you would have invested your money into Wal Mart, Apple, Sony, IBM, and all those other companies that went from 2$ a share to $80. Yeah, thanks a lot!

So thank you dad for all that you do and all that I’m sure you will do in the future, I love ya. Oh by the way, the dishwasher is on the fritz can you come by? Also I want to thank FrankJ's dad for knocking up his mom, my day wouldn't be as funny haha (not funny queer) without FrankJ.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Completely Insensitive A$$ Spelunker Jokes

O.k. boys and girls, time for some more insensitive jokes. Thanks to Jimmyb’s one vote it’s going to be for all the Pillow biters out there. Remember to vote in the comment section for next weeks target of insensitive jokes, enjoy.

Question: How do you fit 4 gay men on a barstool?

Answer: Turn the barstool upside down.

Question: What’s the favorite pick up line in a gay bar?

Answer: May I push your stool in?

Question: Did you hear about the three gays who attacked a woman?

Answer: Two held her down while the third did her hair.

Question: Is it better to be born black or gay?

Answer: Black - because you don't have to tell your folks.

Question: What do you call a gay milkman?

Answer: A dairy queen.

Question: Why do gays make lousy Santa’s?

Answer: Instead of filling stockings, they try them on.

A young man walked up and sat down at the bar. "What can I get you?" the bartender inquired.
"I want 6 shots of Jagermeister," responded the young man.
"6 shots?!? Are you celebrating something?"
"Yeah, my first bl**job," the man answered.
"Well, in that case, let me give you a 7th on the house."
"No offense, sir. But if 6 shots won't get rid of the taste, nothing will."

Three gay guys are sitting in a bar. The first one farts and it doesn't make a sound. The second one farts and it doesn't make a sound. The third one farts and it's really loud. The other two say "Ooh, a virgin."

Question: What does a gold medal, a silver medal, and two hairy balls have in common?

Answer: They've all been on Greg Luganis's chest!

Question: What's the difference between a microwave and a gay guy?

Answer: The microwave won't brown your meat.

Question: What happened when the gay guy put a nicotine patch on his d**k?

Answer: He went down to two butts a day.

Question: How can you make a gay man scream twice ?

Answer: Screw him real hard. Then wipe yourself off on his curtains.

Question: What does a gay man and an ambulance have in common?

Answer: They both get loaded from the back and go whoo-whoo.

Friday, June 17, 2005

A Phat History Lesson (Part 4)

A Phat History Lesson (Part 1)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 2)
A Phat History Lesson (Part 3)

So there I was, no sh**, minding my own business when a muslim and MI weenie wrecked 6 months of my army career. Before I continue I will need to introduce three more characters. First Pvt. Mohammed (the muslim, an Albanian to be more precise), second Spc. CID, and last SSg. Wrinkle Grommet (my team leader, notice the capitalized SS). All names except mine have been changed

I’ve now been in the army long enough to not be the new guy, and have been gaining respect from SSg Wrinkle Grommet and the rest of my teammates. What’s even better is there is now a new guy, Pvt. Mohammed, that is going through the LRS (long range surveillance) indoctrination class and will be assigned to my team. This is great news to me. Now I will no longer be the lowest rank, and I will move up the chain as far as seniority. Basically, I won’t have to carry all the heavy stuff anymore and will be able to off load it to the new guy. Unfortunately, Pvt. Mohammed is one of the few that slips under the radar in basic and airborne school. You see, to be a soldier (much less a combat arms soldier), you must be mentally fit and emotionally strong as well as physically able. Pvt. Mohammed was only physically able, and lacked the other two characteristics that make a good combat soldier. He was slow to learn and because he didn’t drink, smoke, womanize, or fight (all the things that combat soldiers like to do) he didn’t fit in real well either. Now, I’m not saying that he had to do all those things to fit in, I’m saying that he didn’t make himself available to go with soldiers that did those things. Nobody I’ve ever met minded if some one hung out with them but decided not to humiliate themselves. Hey everybody loves the designated driver. So he was one lonely soldier, and it showed. I began to worry about him because he would ask me stupid questions like, "If I gave myself an IV of bleach, would I die?" No joke, he asked me that in formation one day. I did the right thing and told my team leader SSg Wrinkle Grommet. He had a talk with him and everything was to be o.k. I knew it wasn’t though. I had been coming back to my room for a few weeks tell my roommate, Expletive Delph, that the kid was going to lose it. So the night that my teammate came to my room and told me that we needed to go to the MP station I said, "What Mohammed killed himself?" The answer was yes, at least to me.

They did a long investigation and ruled it an accident. I know that there was no way to get down to the train tracks where he was hit unless he was meaning to get down to the train tracks to get hit. It wasn’t like he was crossing a road. He had to climb down an 8-foot slope to get to the tracks. (Warning insensitive part) Now this upsets me a lot for a few reasons. I was mad because I knew that he was ready to break. He just couldn’t get things right and although SSg. Wrinkle Grommet was being way nicer to him when he messed up then if I were to mess up, he still couldn’t pull it together. Also I’m back at the bottom of the ladder again. To top that off I have a team leader that’s worried that he didn’t do something right and that he’ll be investigated for the death of one of his subordinates. So army life had gotten more complicated and then MI Weenie showed up……

I was going to finish the story but it’s gotten to long and complicated for one post stop by tomorrow for the conclusion.


A Phat History Lesson (Part 5)

Welcome Carnival of Comedy #8 Readers

O.k. so I'm not Evil Glenn, and chances are the "excellent 7" (what I call my readers) probably have already read the Carnival of Comedy, but I'm going to post a link to get to them anyhow.
Yes, of course welcome all Comedy of Carnival readers.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

A Softer Side of Phat

I was going to give you the 4th episode of A Phat History Lesson, but something struck me (no not my wife) this evening and I wanted to share. I was watching the NBA playoffs, and realized something. I love this country. You know, two things happen every time I hear our national anthem. One, I feel like killing bad guys, i.e. terrorists, dictators, doctors that eat babies, hippies, liberals and war protestors. Two, it really does get me all choked up to know that I served a country that is this great.

I wonder if liberal hippie democrats get choked up when they hear the national anthem, or does it just fill them with rage. I think that the national anthem for them is just another symbol of an oppressive capitalist society. How sad it must be to feel like they do. So, to remedy this, every time you hear the national anthem choke a liberal hippie democrat until they cry.

‘Nuff said.

Democrat Abortionists Eat Babies

(warning completely insensitive)

It turns out there are better things to do with an aborted fetus then use them for stem cell research. Krishna Rajanna has found that they make a good smoothie also. After an inspection by officials, which was brought on by complaints about theft, they interviewed Dr. Rajanna and suspession grew. During the interview the police investigator noticed that the Dr.’s breath smelled faintly of baby powder. When closer inspected the police investigator realized that the Dr. was using a small femur to pick his teeth. It turns out that Dr. Rajanna had been using the aborted fetus to spice up his daily cuisine. When asked, “How could you eat a human fetus?”. He replied, ”Over easy with a little hot sauce”.


Liberals will stop at nothing to become as disgusting as possible. Indeed.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

How Old I’ve Become

So I was just called by classmates from high school. This is unusual because I haven’t spoke with anyone from my high school since graduating, even though I live in the same city. I’ve seen former classmates before but one: couldn’t remember their name, or two: had no interest in talking to them anyway. Oh, sure I’ve been cornered by that one weirdo that remembers everyone’s name and every embarrassing story, but I’ve always countered with “I remember you, weren’t you gay?” and it usually stopped the conversation cold.
All right, so these two classmates first question was, “Do you remember us?” “I…um..sure, I think you were on the dance team right?” Then one of them had the wonderful idea to limit the amount of people I could think about. She said “We’re black.” Now for some of you this might have helped you remember, and maybe made you put a face with a name. Not for me. Not that I think all black people look a like. (I’m not that kind of Alabama resident) It’s just that there were 1100 students at my high school, 1000 black students, 90 white students, and 10 not from either of those two. I could probably name all the white kids, not because I knew them, but because there were only 90. Spotting me at school was easy. See the white kid; pretty good chance it was me.
Let me get back on subject. They wanted to know how I felt about going to a 10-year high school reunion next year. That’s right, next year! It dawned on me right then, that I have gotten old. I know some of you older people are saying “wow you’re still so young” but you probably drive a Buick and think that Eminem can only be offensive if you’re allergic to peanuts, and in that case just stick to the plain. No really the music is starting to get loud and I’m beginning to yell at the neighborhood kids for being stupid. I’m not compassionate any more, and feel that people should stop complaining about what’s fair and get a job. I’m all respectable now, and never take a risk that could wind up costing too much money. I have more responsibility than I’ve ever wanted and there is no end in sight for it. As a matter of fact, it looks like it will continue to be heaped on in the upcoming years. I guess that’s why there are hippies. Instead of growing up and becoming responsible, they just get dirty, smelly, and communist.
Well I guess I would rather be old than a hippie. Ya, screw you hippies, grow up already, and get a job.

Who’s Next in Line for Some Wup A$$

With all the countries that are irrationally daring us to invade them and open up a case, who should we beat down next? There are so many countries to choose from where do you begin? Maybe we should go to N. Korea and lay a smack down on the poofy haired dictator Kim Jong Il. We could go to Iran and beat down some clerics; it seems like the young people over there are about ready to revolt anyway. Plus, they keep talking about nuclear weapons program and that’s as good a reason as any to jack ‘em up. Can we declare war on the U.N? That would be too sweet. Raid the building and bring all the corrupt bureaucrats to justice, after they spent some time in an un-air-conditioned cell that is. I know, we’ll take out France. Not so much that they’re evil, but because most other countries have. We wouldn’t want the U.S. to fall behind other countries now, would we? I know we can do a better job at razing France than the moors. They were just muslims on horses with white women* and we got some kick a$$ weapons now. So, line up wackos, take a number and put a bid in now for a down home curb stomp.



*Could not for the life of me find a picture of a moor soldier but when I saw this, in the context I was writing I almost lost it.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Phat F.A.Q.s.

I have a lot of training in being interrogated (both army and being married) so I have decided to show you how it works.

FAQ: Tony why did you start blogging?

Dr. Phat Tony: I have a bad memory and thoughts fly through my skull all the time. I figured I should write them down so I wouldn’t forget them.

FAQ: Wouldn’t a pen and paper be easier?

Dr. Phat Tony: What’s a pen? Isn’t that some ancient tool for mothers to compare their children’s room to?

FAQ: Never mind. Do you think you’re funny?

Dr. Phat Tony: People have been laughing at me a long time. I just assume that I am.

FAQ: Laughing at you, or what you say?

Dr. Phat Tony: Next question.

FAQ: Is B-Cack real, or did you just make him up? Are any of the things you speak about real, or are you just one big liar?

Dr. Phat Tony: Wait, that was more than one question.

FAQ: Just answer it, jerky.

Dr. Phat Tony: B-Cack is real. The army stories are real, for the most part. I left a lot of stuff out that seemed inappropriate for people with common decency. I’m trying to keep it semi classy around this joint.

FAQ: What was the worse day ever for you?

Dr. Phat Tony: There I was, no sh**..….I laid in poison ivy for 4 days on a mission once. I didn’t realize it until I started walking to the extraction site and by the time I had gotten there, I had sweat through my BDUs. I had a rash from my neck all the way down to my…..um, yep that was the worse day.

FAQ: What was the best day ever for you?

Dr. Phat Tony: Jeez, I hope you don’t ask me stupid questions like, "If you were a pie, what kind of pie would you be?" Besides getting married, (standard answer for all married men, only exception is if you have kids then getting married is the second best day) I would have to say the first time I left a high performance aircraft without said aircraft being on the ground.

FAQ: What’s with the advertisements on the side of your web site? Did you sell out and go big corporation?

Dr. Phat Tony: Hardly. I’m trying to cash in like any capitalist. If people use the ads and buy something they wanted, mission accomplished. If a reader decides to throw me a buck, God bless ‘em. I’m the only employee around this place I have no one to oppress, so I know I wont get any filthy hippies protesting me.

FAQ: Think it will work?

Dr. Phat Tony: I doubt it, but my goal is small. First goal: get enough revenue to pay for stamp to send cable bill. Second goal: get enough revenue to pay for cable bill.

FAQ: If some one donates a million dollars to you will you keep blogging?

Dr. Phat Tony: Only if the donor wants me to.

FAQ: Any advise to the readers before we wrap this thing up.

Dr. Phat Tony: No, just a self plug. Tell everyone you know to read my stuff. 'Nuff said.

A Phat History Lesson (Part 3)

(A Phat History Lesson Part 2)

(A Phat History Lesson Part 1)

So, there I was, no sh**, finally at my unit doing my job….sort of. The first 3 months were a bit hazy, as there was a lot of drinking involved. What can I say, soldiers like to drink, womanize, and fight. What did you expect a bunch of Boy Scout like killers?

There were some real killers at my unit. My first sergeant (we'll call him FSGT. D-Bol) was a true killer. Beside that fact that he looked like he ate raw meat, he was also just a hair on the crazy side(I say hair in jest, 'cause he was bald). First sergeant D-Bol was just truly an intimidating man. He had been at Grenada and Panama, and really wanted to get back to his life’s work, which was killing. I remember the second time I met him. (I say the second time because the first time was in processing and he just laid out the rules to me.) We were practicing tying knots, when he walked up to me, read my name tape and said, “Hey Tony, that’s my middle name. You better go get another name or (at this time he was holding a rope tied in an end of line boland. This produces a large loop on the rope) or your a** hole is going to be this big around.”

I simply responded, “Roger that First Sergeant.” That’s sort of the catch all phrase in the army. It’s like saying whatever, I understand, yes, and bite me all with one phrase. This is the same first sergeant D-Bol that once told the company, “If it wasn’t for my d*m* wife and kids, I would join the French foreign legion to do some more killing.”

He is also the first sergeant D-Bol that used to come into the operations office point his M-9 9mm at my head and squeeze the trigger about 5 times, then curse the army for not giving him ammo. Then, he would apologize for possibly hurting my feelings a little later. Yes first sergeant was a bit whacked out.

Things went smoothly for a while. I stayed out of trouble, and things were going generally well. Then, thanks to a Muslim and a MI weenie my life went to sh**.

To be continued in part 4

A Phat History Lesson (Part 4)


A Phat History Lesson (Part 5)

Monday, June 13, 2005

If I Were Rich and Famous

I wonder what kind of crime I would commit if I were a rich and famous minority? It definitely wouldn’t be fondling little boys that’s just gross(and gay). Hmm what about murder? No, I probably wouldn’t do that one either. Everyone that I would even contemplate murdering is a celebrity or politician, and there is no leniency for killing other rich and famous people. Oh, I know. Insider trading, I heard that was a pretty lucrative crime. Wait, no, they would convict me on that. Let’s face it, that crime is just too white to get away from, no matter how rich, famous, or minority(ty, I’m not sure how to use that as a adjective.) I am. Maybe I could be a traitor….wait scratch that. No matter how rich, or famous I am, I love my country. Well, I guess I’ll just let other people worry about it. At the moment I’m neither rich, famous, or minor.

Fat Terrorists Are Easier to Run Down

It turns out the tax payers of the U.S. are helping the military fatten up the terrorists. Seems that military's secret plan to make terrorist too obese to be efficient killers is well under way. Soon Al Qaeda will be filled with fat hate mongers like Michael Moore and be no more dangerous than he is. Way to go Gitmo, and tell those terrorists to eat an abreviated rooster and make them listen to some more Christina Aguilera Music.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

A Phat History Lesson (Part 2)

A Phat History Lesson (Part 1)

So there I was, no sh**, On my way to Germany to join my unit. I arrived in Frankfurt early enough to go down town to have a bier (Germans spell things funny, and I was only 19 years old so I wanted to know what it was like to buy a bier legally). This was my first impression of Europe. I have to say that I never had been to a place that smelled like urine, vomit, and KY jelly before. It just so happens that outside of the main train station in Frankfurt is where the red light district is. This was also the first time I had ever seen anyone shoot up heroine ( in the middle of the sidewalk, at 2pm in the afternoon, while bleeding all over said sidewalk) What a great place. So I was one of the few chosen to go to the LRS company in Darmstadt. Turns out there are only two LRS companies left in the Army, one at Ft Brag and one in Darmstadt.

Now I wanted to let you in on how I got the incredibly stupid nick name but feel I must introduce you to the cast of characters that I would befriend during my time in the Army to give reference on why the Army is the home of the stupid nick name.

The cast:

B-Cack: I had known B-Cack when I was in RIP. His last name, taken to the shortest form is, B-Cack. Real name bald-weenie (I sh** you not that’s how it’s pronounced not how it is spelled.)

Puffy: Had nothing to do with his real name but he was put on an inhaler when he got pneumonia. We sure know how to treat the sick.

Expletive Delph: My (un)hated roommate. It seemed that there was nothing he couldn’t use the oh so famous f-bomb to describe. Whether he needed an adjective or an adverb he could always trust on the ever so faithful f-bomb to make his sentence eloquent.

Skinny Pimp: A commo guy that was way cooler than most of the commo guys. So what if he was a dirty leg commo f**k. He was like 6’6" and weighed in at an intimidating 165lbs. (almost looked 2 dimensional, we joked that if ever we were fired on he could just turn sideways and it would be like trying to shoot a playing card.)

Wookie Sap: He was an E-7 that people picked on relentlessly. He wasn’t the brightest bulb but a p t stud. Unfortunately when being joked on by other NCOs he would usually just state they were stupid and gay and make unintelligible sounds.

At last Phat Tony: My nickname wasn’t as clever. We were sitting my room watching the Simpson (the episode that Bart was a bartender for the mob) and since my last name shortened is Tony they all thought that having someone named Phat Tony would be cool. I’m sure that it was Fat at one time but the name was modified after people saw the caliber of women that I dated. The Dr. was added after seeing the weirdo Dr. Kenny's comments on IMAO saying he was a Dr. of some miniscule scope of science. I added it to spite him.

Son now you know a little more of the epic which is me. The story will continue in part 3.

A Phat History Lesson (Part 3)

A Phat History Lesson (Part 4)


A Phat History Lesson (Part 5)

Saturday, June 11, 2005

B-Cack Goes Postal

(I will introduce my former LRS team mate B-Cack. He is still serving our nation as a high speed AH-64 pilot. I don't mind him cursing, 'cause I haven't put the reactive armor on my house yet and he has my address, and like I said he's still serving so I guess he gets to have some leaway. enjoy Dr. Phat Tony)

So no sh** there I am minding my own f**king business standing in line to buy some stamps when all of a sudden I remember there are the vending machines in the lobby. I f**king hate to wait in lines, and I do whatever I can to avoid this whenever possible. So I cut out of line to get over on some blue hairs that have nothing better to do, and make my way over to the stamp-o-matic machines. Of course all I have is a twenty dollar bill and was a little hesitant to put it in the slot, I have been ripped off by enough godd**n coke machines for one dollar to know that by putting in something that large is only asking for trouble. Being the dumb**s that I am, I slide Mr. Jackson right into the slot, and proceed to purchase my book of stamps.

Now, I don't know if you have ever used these before, but they give you change back in the form of the Sacagawea Dollar, which is kind of cool. Ok stamps are bought, the book comes out and I am good to go.... here is where the fun starts ... ha ha ha... So I hit the "done" button and look down for my change... and what do I see start to fill the slot but NICKLES... yeah no sh**... NICKLES.... Of course all of the blue hairs in the lobby start to salivate at the sound of a nickel hitting the bottom of a change tray... they think I have hit the triple double out at the Indian Casino or something. I thought it was kind of funny at first..... but when the pennies started to fall and the change tray was nearly full, I started to get a little pissed off....... What the f**k am I going to do with $12.30 in pennies and nickels? Yeah so I had a pocketful of change, it weighed quite a bit, but was producing a bulge that would be the envy of any porn star... what the f**k.. only me.. I felt like throwing it all in the lobby and watching the old people fight for it.... or the postal workers scurry to clean it up.. but then I remembered that I WAS in the post office and that there would be no rush to clean it up... F**k it... maybe I will drink a Natural Lite and throw some nickels down at the Casino...

B-Cack out

A Rosie Dream

Rosie O’Fat Lesbian commented on the view the other day to Sean Hannity, that her head would explode if Condi Rice became president. For the sake of all adopted children everywhere and normal people that aren’t insane, we still hope, pray, and dream for her nightmare to become reality.

A Phat History Lesson (part 1)

O.k., there I was, no sh**, (how all army stories begin) laying on the couch dreading going to work. It was September 1997, and I was going no where at the speed of a racing slug. I decided that my job was crap and was debating whether I wanted to continue working there. I turned on the tube and an Army commercial came on. One of those high speed "Be all that you can be" ones, not the gay "Army of one" commercials. I looked at the paratroopers jumping, high speed soldiers fast roping, and some rangers practicing small boat tactics, and said "I want to shoot some one."(or something to that effect) So, I called my job said: "I quit! Oh by the way I’m joining the army."

Called the recruiter, signed a whole bunch of papers and went to Nashville so some near sighted, old doctor could take a look at the brown eye.(It made me quite nervous when he told me to bend over and spread my cheeks then said: "you work out, huh?". He must be an expert in rears to be able to tell ones habits by looking at that.) So I scored well on my ASVAB, like a 96% correct.(for Army guys that’s a 126 GT score.) They asked me what I wanted to do in the Army, ‘cause my score was good enough to do anything I wanted. I simply asked what the hardest thing there was in the army. He showed me a film about airborne rangers that totally motivated me to kill.

Breezed through basic and airborne school. Then went to Ranger Indoctrination Program. I have to tell you I didn’t pass. Went through the course twice, and it just turned out that they didn’t want me there. It happens that way in the Army some times and I’m not bitter, I was sent to a much more elite unit anyway. (But if I see Sgt Blum anytime soon I’ll poke him with a sharp stick and run away.)

The story will continue in part 2.

A Phat History Lesson (Part 2)

A Phat History Lesson (Part 3)

A Phat History Lesson (Part 4)


A Phat History Lesson (Part 5)

Friday, June 10, 2005

Completely Insensitive Dumb, Deaf, & Blind Jokes

So I'm hanging out at the house and my pizo comes over and starts with the insesitivity. I guess he can't help it, but what do I care, I have all of my senses.

  • Why did Helen Keller's dog commit suicide? You would too if your name was auouaugh. (sorry don't know how to spell grunts and moans)
  • How did Helen Keller's parents punish her when she was bad? Sent her to a circular room to stand in the corner; put a plunger end up in the toilet; put doorknobs on the walls, gave her a basketball to read; rearranged the furniture; etc
  • Why was Helen Keller's leg yellow? Her dog was blind too.
  • Why couldn't Helen Keller scream when she fell off the cliff? She had mittens on.
  • Why couldn't Helen Keller drive? 'Cause she was a woman. ( I almost cried when I heard that one)
  • How did Helen Keller Drive? One hand on the wheel, one hand on the road.
  • How did Helen Keller break her arm? Trying to read a stop sign at 55 mph.
  • Have you ever seen Helen Keller's house? Don't feel bad; niether has she.
  • Why did Helen Keller cross the road? Doesn't matter she didn't know where she was.

Next on the list of insesitivity will be women jokes. I'll try to spread the funny around to all to show no bias, but if I don't sue me.

So It Begins….

How do you start a Blog? I suppose I could tell you something about myself, or tell you why I started blogging, but that just seems trivial now that you are actually here reading. This is my one chance to grab some attention from strangers and find a few people that can stand my rants long enough for me to gain pleasure from it. We’ll call this the courting period between me (the blogger) and you (the reader), and no you wont get to first base with me (much less second). It’s a figure of speech the whole courting thing, get your mind out of the gutter pervert.

I will make a few promises to the few that decide to periodically check in on my posts to see what the hell I’m talking about.

  • I will not be PC. If I offend you, then what I said is probably true. If what I said is not true, then grow a sense of humor and stop whining.
  • I will call myself Dr., not because I have a degree, but because it makes what I say more important than when I call myself Mr....and everything I say is important.
  • I am the standard for normality. If you are not like me; you are abnormal. Sorry, a standard had to be set. I set it. Stop crying and conform.
  • I will always think that hybrid cars are gay .
  • I will not take up your time with intolerable, long essays.
  • I will not blend puppies for nourishment like Evil Glenn.

This is just the beginning, more to come.