Wednesday, June 18, 2008
An Oldie but Goodie
Last night I received a "Morale Call" at 8:47 p.m. Pacific Time. Jack intercepted said call and yapped. Jamie even chatted briefly. (Yes, they were STILL awake). Without going into too much detail, suffice-it-to-say that Sand Crab was all a'flutter at the DVD options available within the "IZ". Like a kid in an all-you-can-eat candy buffet or like Mr. Krabs (from SpongeBob SquarePants) saving a nickel.
Between that and his "I'm Going to Have Black Lung" soliloquy (today's Ramblings), I feel it is apropos to haul out a little something I wrote to him from June 1992. It is reprinted below with a few changes to make it applicable to his current locale. Remember, this was originally crafted during the heyday of The Letterman Show, people.
TOP TEN THINGS TO DO IF YOU FIND YOURSELF STUCK IN A HOT, INHABITED-BUT-FOREIGN SANDBOX
10. Get a volleyball tournament together. First, locate a volleyball, a soccer ball, a rock, or -- if it won't constitute grounds for court-martial -- a brick from a dismantled monument. Remember, sand dunes make excellent nets and conserve MWR funds for the really essential items -- like duct tape for the swimming pool lane dividers. Not only do sand dunes provide the necessary height barriers, but just imagine what the element of surprise will add to your games.
9. Think up fresh, creative ways to not alert the Halliburton folks to the fact that your roommate left the country AND left his trailer keys with you. Before you cop to the availability of a bunk, make sure to rearrange the furniture to suit your Feng Shui preferences and realign the furnishings "ownership" so that you have the better stuff when the new, hapless fellow gets assigned to you. Guessing you'll want to give him the bed by the window while you commandeer the one nearest the A/C unit.
8. Reminisce about the good ol' days in Hawaii, Fiji, Australia, Victoria, Seattle, Costa Rica, Panama, Key West, Singapore, Tokyo, and so on -- when the Navy was the NAVY, when SPF sunscreen was a recommendation - not a mandate - and when asthmatics could coexist, wheeze-free, with the resident population.
7. Due to the lack of sand castle equipment available via military requisition channels, it's probably best not to get your heart set on building sand castles. Not to mention the hoo-rah Army and Marine guys would mock you without mercy. Have an extra helping of ice cream with your next lobster/crab/steak/shrimp dinner to soothe your disappointment.
6. Marvel at how little there is to do, recreationally-speaking, in the Cradle of Civilization. Write a lot of letters home for entertainment purposes. Call home to remember how much worse COMNAVWIFEPAC has got it. I mean a smattering of sand-dust and some audible artillery fire is not so impressive compared to scabies and backtalk and $4.59/gallon gasoline.
5. Since your writing implements were probably depleted by activity in #6 (i.e., writing letters home) and by keeping score (see #10), concentrate your mental energies on getting interviewed by Armed Forces Network News or, if you want your family to actually see you on TV, better make special arrangements with ESPN or Nick, Jr. (Hint: May want to play up your tournament organization as an entree to ESPN).
4. Hold a "Great Legs in Camouflage" contest. Ahem, men only. COMNAVWIFEPAC will judge and points will be deducted accordingly for the overly hirsute and the obviously neglectful of hygiene initiative. Bonus points for beach volleyball scars. In case of dust storm, which would render photography of entry legs cumbersome and arduous, substitute with a "how-to" clinic on "The Real Battle: Maintaining Military Uniform Creases in a Hostile Environment of IBAs, Indirect Fire, Sand Fleas, Bats, Computer Glare, and Lobbed Volley-Bricks". That type of Professional Military Continuing Education would make a powerful FITREP bullet point down the road -- almost but not quite as cool as being one of Goodnight's "Lil' Cowboys".
3. Deal with the rash of concussions resulting from the unfortunate and ill-advised use of rocks and/or bricks for the tourney. (I fear that the Porcine-Triage Training Video has little applicability to this type of injury). Obviously, the availability of Navy-issue recreational equipment has its costs (recall #7).
2. In an attempt to cut down on concussion-related time-outs (#3), amend tourney rules to prohibit spiking and/or provide each team an additional player to act as "look-out". As another option, you may want to require IBA head cover for competitors. Safety first!
1. Stage a fireside social on the controversial, yet timely topic of: "Mil-Blogging Etiquette: The Decision to Broadside One's Readers with Classic Poetry & Prose and Its Impact on One's Readership". Think of the goodwill that will build among your other-service compatriots and the increasing odds that you will win the lottery for R & R during the holiday season!
Between that and his "I'm Going to Have Black Lung" soliloquy (today's Ramblings), I feel it is apropos to haul out a little something I wrote to him from June 1992. It is reprinted below with a few changes to make it applicable to his current locale. Remember, this was originally crafted during the heyday of The Letterman Show, people.
TOP TEN THINGS TO DO IF YOU FIND YOURSELF STUCK IN A HOT, INHABITED-BUT-FOREIGN SANDBOX
10. Get a volleyball tournament together. First, locate a volleyball, a soccer ball, a rock, or -- if it won't constitute grounds for court-martial -- a brick from a dismantled monument. Remember, sand dunes make excellent nets and conserve MWR funds for the really essential items -- like duct tape for the swimming pool lane dividers. Not only do sand dunes provide the necessary height barriers, but just imagine what the element of surprise will add to your games.
9. Think up fresh, creative ways to not alert the Halliburton folks to the fact that your roommate left the country AND left his trailer keys with you. Before you cop to the availability of a bunk, make sure to rearrange the furniture to suit your Feng Shui preferences and realign the furnishings "ownership" so that you have the better stuff when the new, hapless fellow gets assigned to you. Guessing you'll want to give him the bed by the window while you commandeer the one nearest the A/C unit.
8. Reminisce about the good ol' days in Hawaii, Fiji, Australia, Victoria, Seattle, Costa Rica, Panama, Key West, Singapore, Tokyo, and so on -- when the Navy was the NAVY, when SPF sunscreen was a recommendation - not a mandate - and when asthmatics could coexist, wheeze-free, with the resident population.
7. Due to the lack of sand castle equipment available via military requisition channels, it's probably best not to get your heart set on building sand castles. Not to mention the hoo-rah Army and Marine guys would mock you without mercy. Have an extra helping of ice cream with your next lobster/crab/steak/shrimp dinner to soothe your disappointment.
6. Marvel at how little there is to do, recreationally-speaking, in the Cradle of Civilization. Write a lot of letters home for entertainment purposes. Call home to remember how much worse COMNAVWIFEPAC has got it. I mean a smattering of sand-dust and some audible artillery fire is not so impressive compared to scabies and backtalk and $4.59/gallon gasoline.
5. Since your writing implements were probably depleted by activity in #6 (i.e., writing letters home) and by keeping score (see #10), concentrate your mental energies on getting interviewed by Armed Forces Network News or, if you want your family to actually see you on TV, better make special arrangements with ESPN or Nick, Jr. (Hint: May want to play up your tournament organization as an entree to ESPN).
4. Hold a "Great Legs in Camouflage" contest. Ahem, men only. COMNAVWIFEPAC will judge and points will be deducted accordingly for the overly hirsute and the obviously neglectful of hygiene initiative. Bonus points for beach volleyball scars. In case of dust storm, which would render photography of entry legs cumbersome and arduous, substitute with a "how-to" clinic on "The Real Battle: Maintaining Military Uniform Creases in a Hostile Environment of IBAs, Indirect Fire, Sand Fleas, Bats, Computer Glare, and Lobbed Volley-Bricks". That type of Professional Military Continuing Education would make a powerful FITREP bullet point down the road -- almost but not quite as cool as being one of Goodnight's "Lil' Cowboys".
3. Deal with the rash of concussions resulting from the unfortunate and ill-advised use of rocks and/or bricks for the tourney. (I fear that the Porcine-Triage Training Video has little applicability to this type of injury). Obviously, the availability of Navy-issue recreational equipment has its costs (recall #7).
2. In an attempt to cut down on concussion-related time-outs (#3), amend tourney rules to prohibit spiking and/or provide each team an additional player to act as "look-out". As another option, you may want to require IBA head cover for competitors. Safety first!
1. Stage a fireside social on the controversial, yet timely topic of: "Mil-Blogging Etiquette: The Decision to Broadside One's Readers with Classic Poetry & Prose and Its Impact on One's Readership". Think of the goodwill that will build among your other-service compatriots and the increasing odds that you will win the lottery for R & R during the holiday season!

1 comment:
Nice Top 10! Trying to think of some clever comment, but I don't watch Letterman.
But I could ask if King Crab needs me to send him a volley ball huh!
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