Monthly Archives: June 2012

Another plea for a hero … support for Sgt. 1st Class Taylor starts with us.


First things first, thanks for reading. The last 24 hours have seen more traffic here than any other period in this blogs short history. More as in thousands more. Thanks for the hits, thanks for the shares and thanks for giving. Sadly that’s where we’ve come up short badly. Today his fund has almost double yesterday’s amount but it’s still far, far short of it’s goal.

We’re talking of course about Sgt. 1st Class Walter Taylor’s legal defense fund and efforts that are underway to help him raise $35,000.

This update is all about how you can donate (hint: that’s the link) and why you should donate. There will be, sadly, none of this blogs usual shenanigans – Taylor’s situation is far too dire for jokes. I mean that, its tough for me to say, I think almost anything can be a joke. Not this time though …

The good news is that even if you live overseas and have an APO mailing address you can STILL donate. In the address line where it asks for your city type in APO AE and in the line where they ask for your state, select New York and viola, donate away!

Pretty painless really, easier than purchasing on Amazon or iTunes so please, I beg you, head there now and donate whatever you can. Also again, repost this on Facebook and twitter and where ever else you find an audience because as you know or will soon know the recipient of this money is an American hero.

Why should you donate?

In an effort to fight out what appears to be politically motivated criminal charges SFC Taylor, wisely, hired a civilian attorney. Rather than risk it with a U.S. Army appointed defense lawyer, who may or may not be up to the job, SFC Taylor in an effort to save himself, his family and his career sought out and employed a civilian attorney well versed in military law.

This is an excellent move because, as you know, he did nothing wrong on July 21, 2011.

SFC Taylor, a combat engineer, and his platoon, set out on a road-clearing patrol that day to ensure that the roads in his area of operation were free of roadside bombs. They literally went out looking for bombs that day and every other day during their tour of duty. It was their job. They found the largest roadside bomb any of them had ever had the misfortune of encountering. Seconds after the devastating blast they were engaged by small-arms fire and during the course of that fire fight a black sedan, unbelievably, drove into the middle of it all. To the seasoned vets of his platoon this alone warranted serious suspicion that the vehicle’s occupants were enemy forces. Civilian vehicles just don’t drive into an ongoing fire fight.

This bizarre twist of events, coupled with the fact that during the ‘fog of battle’ several members of the platoon reported seeing shots coming from the sedan led to some of the platoon’s vehicle mounted heavy weapons engaging the vehicle.

After the firefight Taylor and three other members of the platoon followed a wire that had been used to detonate the road-side bomb – insanely the wire seemed to lead directly to the now silent black sedan.

SFC Taylor’s Platoon leader, just moments before he started following the wire, warned him that there were reports of insurgents using vehicles as bombs. The black sedan, he and everyone else thought, was obviously another bomb intent on taking his life and the life of his men.

As he followed the wire he came as close as 10 to 25 meters from the vehicle something else inexplicable happened. A figure dressed in black exited the vehicle from the rear-passenger door and ran toward the vehicle’s trunk. Reports differ but, by all estimates, Taylor has between 3 and 10 seconds to make a decision. Was the person friend or foe?

Think about that … 3 to 10 seconds. I imagine it’s something akin to this:

1 second: The door flies open.

2 seconds: A foot emerges from the door

3 seconds: A person’s lower torso emerges

4 seconds: The person is out of the vehicle, facing you and they are covered in black

5 seconds: The person begins in your direction and toward the trunk of the car

6 seconds …

You get the idea. Fearing for his life and more importantly fearing for the lives of his Soldiers Taylor shot and killed the cloaked figure only to discover, to his horror, he’d killed an innocent person. That in and of itself is more punishment they he deserves. It’s very unfortunate that it occurred but that it occurred is neither criminal nor careless – protecting yourself and your platoon from what would to any sane mind appear to be a suicide bomber is clearly the correct thing to do.

Here’s that link again, just in case you missed it. Any little bit, $5, $20 whatever amount you feel comfortable giving will help. If it’s $30 or more they’ll send you a bumber sticker that says I support SFC Taylor, how cool is that?

This isn’t going to be the last update as you can likely guess but I hope it’s the one that pushes his defense fund over the $10,000 mark. Finally, post this, reblog this, link this far and wide.

One final thing, I feel like I need to add a disclaimer. While I am retired from the U.S. Army and am currently employed as a Department of the Army Civilian the words here and my urging you to donate in no way reflect an official position by anyone or any entity besides me. This blog, and the updates regarding this case, are my opinion and should by no means be construed as endorsment by the U.S. Army or the U.S. government.

You know just in case you were wondering.

Thanks.

Karen Klein fails to do job, gets rich. Sgt. 1st Class Taylor does job, gets screwed. We are truly a nation of idiots …


Karen Klein is rich and we’re idiots.

This is going to be a two-part update. Not two part as in I post one now and the other whenever I feel like it but rather a two part in that the first portion will be about me wondering what the fuck is wrong with America and the second part will be about me wondering what the fuck is wrong with America.

Look it’s about two different people okay.

Karen Klein, chances are by now you’ve seen the video and read about America’s outpouring of support for the grandmother who was viciously verbally assaulted by, wait for it, 12-year-olds. Some reports now put donations at over half a million dollars because ‘grandma’ didn’t do her fucking job.

That’s right, it was her job to control the 30 or so 12-year-olds. She failed and you all collectively said, “OH MY GOD THAT’S SO SAD!” and then gave her $20 a piece. You’re pathetic (assuming you gave her a dime that is) and she’s pathetic.

Look, I don’t have kids so if you want to close the browser and yell out “well he just doesn’t know’ now that’s fine. That aside I can easily think of three VERY simple things that would’ve resolved the situation quickly.

1: Kids listen up, ONE more word and this bus goes back to the school where I’ll have the principal call each and every one of your parents.

2: Hold up your own phone (don’t have one Grams? That was kind of dumb) and announce “this is all being recorded, unless this behavior stops right now I’m turning it over to (insert authority figure here).

3: Sucker punch the next 12-year-old that opens his or her mouth. Yeah, yeah that’s bad but I’d have contributed to her defense fund then because that would have been HYSTERICAL!

What fun and ham fisted that was but the point is 12-year-olds are idiots, they are. Have you listened to Justin Bieber, resolved, 12-year-olds are fucking retarded. If you can’t outsmart one of them (even after having raised your own hoard) then what the fuck are you doing on that bus?

You baby boomers make me sick. Would your parents have put up with that shit? Hell no they were the greatest generation, more concerned with killing Nazis and cranking the bombing making technology up to 11.

We collectively make me sick, instead of asking ourselves how a grown woman let that happen (they’re fucking 12 remember) we opened our hearts and wallets cause ‘those kids were mean.” There are also reports of the kids and their parents being harassed, fight bullying with bullying I guess.

And what does Karen plan to do with her half a million (besides take ‘the vacation of a lifetime’ for fuck’s sake)? She plans to keep doing the job she absolutely sucks at.

Sgt. 1st Class Taylor is poor, we’re still idiots.

Now I’d like to turn your attention to Sgt. 1st Class Walter Taylor, who had to make a life or death decision in literal seconds. While on patrol in Afghanistan, after his unit (a unit that was designed to find IEDs) encountered the worst road-side bomb of their tour, came under small-arms fire. During the ensuing fire fight a black sedan drove into the battle, something that is unheard of for a civilian vehicle. Couple that with the fact that his unit has just been briefed about the possibilities of suicide vehicle borne bombs and what happen next barely registers on my radar above the level of “unfortunate but understandable”.

After the gunfight, while following a wire used to detonate the bomb (a wire which seemed to lead up to the black sedan) Taylor came within 10 meters of the vehicle when a figure leapt from the rear passenger door and moved toward the trunk of the vehicle. Taylor did what you or I or anyone else would do in that situation, he fired his weapon but subsequently discovered he’d killed an innocent person.

So of course Taylor faces charges of negligent homicide and dereliction of duty under the uniform code of military justice because … well I don’t know the because here, I just know it’s the reality.

I’ve sat though a lot of court marshals probably 20 or so. Ninety-nine percent of the time the accused on the stand is guilty as sin. This, in my opinion, wasn’t one of them. His stellar career, really it is a stellar career, aside what did the Army want this platoon sergeant to do, die to prove a point? Had he had the time to logically think it through, say space aliens paused everyone but him, the choice was kill the civilian or let myself and my platoon members (there were three others with him) die.

When a platoon deploys to a war zone, and I know this as fact, they become family. More than family in some ways, the bond runs deeper than family, family isn’t facing death every day, every minute, every second. His platoon was in, what few would argue, the worst stretch of road in Afghanistan with orders to find all the road-side bombs and Oh, by the way, we now believe there are now suicide vehicle bombs as well so umm, good luck out there.

I’ll take she’s dies for $1,000 Alex and I’ll need that money because a civilian attorney is expensive.

Here’s the point, he hired a civilian lawyer rather than run the risk of being assigned a military one that passed the bar last night and has argued two cases. Not a dumb move by anyone’s standard.

So here’s where I ask you all to do, go to this site and donate $20, or $50 or even $100, whatever you can do. I did it, you’ll notice they’re woefully short of their humble $35,000 goal (having raised a whopping $1,180 as of this blog post) yet Karen, dear Karen gets the vacation of her dreams and half a million.

Did I mention that just a few short weeks later Taylor was hit in the face by RPG shrapnel? He’s, and I’ve met him, disfigured and blind in one eye. Yeah he’s got that going for him too.

Finally, look I love it when you all share this blog on FB or retweet it … I absolutely love it. It tickles my ‘narcissistic’ button like nothing else can. But this time I’m asking, begging, cut the part about Karen if you feel the need but repost this. Taylor deserves half a million but needs $35,000.

I’m no longer allowed to talk about sauna boners and this is not really about sauna boners


I’m on another business trip and was informed by my wife today that she ‘read the blog.’ Which was odd because when I told her I was going to start a blog phrases like “you’re an idiot”, “go mow the lawn” and “I can’t wait until dancing with the stars comes on” were tossed about.

I always suspected, but could never prove, that she had snuck a peak or two at the blog. In fact I’d even conned her into proofreading a few of the entries. So both of those updates that were generally free of spelling errors, incomplete sentences and didn’t use the work fuck five times in a row where ones she proof read*.

I knew there were a few sentences or phrases or even thoughts here that she might, question. It’s not Howard Stern circa the mid 90’s wife level of “what the hell is he doing?” But still. There’s photo after photo of cleavage shots that don’t belong to her (I’ve thought about doing an entire update about cleavage shots … look for an exciting poll regarding that topic later in this update, if I remember! Oh crap I did remeber but I put it here and not at the end, because I’m awesome), there was a discussion of vacuum cleaner sex and hell there’s Sasha, remember Sasha? I do! Hi Sasha!

Also Blitzboy76 wants me to drink more and write more. I hear and obey Blitz, I hear and obey.

So what was her comment about the blog? It was, as you’ve guessed, sauna boners.

Now I realize this blog, because of a self-fulfilling prophecy at this point, is dangerously close to becoming the “INTERNET’S NUMBER ONE STOPPING POINT FOR ALL THING NAKED SUANA”. Hell I’m considering selling “sauna boner” coffee mugs, “naked sauna” tee-shirts here and … well no I’m not.

Her point was, and she was only mildly angry, that I shouldn’t write about sauna boners because people would think I was some kind of pervert.

I would like to all of you know that I am not some kind of pervert; I’m a specific kind of pervert thank-you-very-much.

When pressed, she explained, that sauna boners were not the kind of thing I should be writing about because again, people would think I was a pervert. When pressed, as in “I used the term in a very joking manner, never once referring to an actual erection (okay there had been that ONE time but that was ages ago) so I’m not sure how you could conclude that?”** She had no answer, meaning she hadn’t read much other than the headline.

I’ve known her too long for these kinds of shenanigans damnit!

Was I a better writer, better journalist, had I ‘had a few beers’ or even just been a dick I would have grilled her about her objection to the term.

Me: What exactly is wrong with the term sauna boners?

Her: It makes you sound like a pervert!

Me: I see perhaps erections in a sauna would be better?

Her: No, no that’s not what I mean.

Me: Wood in a hot wooden sweatbox?

Her: ewww!

Me: Stiffy in a sauna, that way there are two S’s in the phrase, but we should be careful with things like SS.

Her: No that’s not what I mean!

Me: Maybe something medical sounding? “Fully aroused male subject inside of a temperature controlled enviro …

Her: Shut up!

I wish it had gone that way but alas it did not. I asked her what was wrong with that term in the context I used it.

She of course couldn’t answer that because she hadn’t read it. I knew this, of course. Back, years back, when I was an Army journalist there had been a similar fight. She was mad about something I had written and when pressed I quickly learned she hadn’t read what I’d written.

Taking the time machine back to ; ; ; three, I was a young and eager U.S. Army journalist. Oh boy, eager beaver indeed! At the time there were two kinds of enlisted journalists, those that gave a fuck and those that didn’t. A sort of Tale of Two Cites opening paragraph if you will of Army journalists, meaning it was exactly the same as today. Most of the assignments the editor handed out were of the “cover boy scout troop 1043’s race-car derby this weekend” or “Go to this housing area’s meeting and find out if they’re going to change garbage pick-up day to Thursday”.

Boring shit right?

But then there were the other assignments, the ones where you, and I’m not trying to toot my own horn, but my horn shall be tooted (which is much dirtier than sauna boners for those of you still reading this), lived in the field or worked a long weekend or even worked all night. I always took these, always. I point this out because sometimes when something real to report on (real for Army journalism) came along I got first fucking dibs. Sometimes real was covering a forest fire on base and me and another of the journalists, John Barker, tag teamed that like meth addicted prostit … oh wait that’s as bad as sauna boners, maybe worse.

But a really, really sweet assignment came up when the installation I worked for canned the head chef of the officer’s club. I don’t know how much I want to disclose … okay fuck it, it was the chef at the United States Military Academy at West Point. The fact that they just hired a new one was my story but my editor turned me on to a lot of negative, very early, internet bitching about the old chef’s fuck ups. When I interviewed the new chef I had all the bad-ass questions about how he would address the complaints of the customers and to his credit he had all the answers. It wasn’t Pulitzer but it was Army Pulitzer …

Anyway as you can predict the story ran with me saying what a douche the old dude was and what a shit-hot addition the new guy was about to be.

Moar Boobs!

Anyone that just read that deserves a look at some cleavage … here you go.

Did I mention that Dagmar worked there? Not as the head chef that just got canned but as a bartender. Some faithful ally of the old Chef’s regime had put the bug into her ear that I had called the establishment a filthy cesspool of filthy cess or something.

Basically, without doing what I just did in our imaginary back and forth at the start of this, she called and asked how I could call the place she worked at a shitty place to eat and I replied that I hadn’t, I’d said it was kicking ass these days. Yada, yada, three bags full, have you read it honey? No was the reply.

And that kids is how you write a fuck lot of words about sauna boners and never once refer to a sauna boner.

Also honey, if you’re still here, Sauna boners.

* There are a few others that proof read for me … they remain nameless as long as they keep paying me to remain nameless … July’s coming up girls!

** Look there’s plenty of retarded shit here that I would have to defend, maybe, if she ever read it. Sasha, the second helicopter (she doesn’t KNOW YET … SHHH!) and that fact that on the last night of this trip I plan to have a private candlelit ceremony where I knight my left testicle Sir Droopy

How to blast through $1,000 without ANY help from strippers


So here I sit, $1000 poorer than I was during a fateful February morning where I retardedly forgot that the quote by Hemmingway to “always do sober what you said you do drunk,” is the worst advice given since Mark Anthony told Julius Cesar he’d be fine going to the senate all by himself.

Okay no one stabbed me and to the best of my knowledge my wife isn’t contemplating starting a household civil war (best to be vigilant though!) I’m none-the-less still an idiot.

Sometime around 1991 or so a young captain in the U.S. Army talked me into pursuing a career as a helicopter pilot.   Besides that fact that I’m sure the Army has some pretty strict regulations about spilling beer in their helicopter and you can’t smoke while flying I know now I would have sucked at, or at least hated, being a pilot.   In my mind they were basically glorified bus drivers once I really thought about it.  I had a cool job as an Army journalist, one day I got to play with the infantry, the next with tankers, the next with artillery … you get the point.

The real point is that I didn’t have any interest at all in becoming a pilot.   Take off, fly around in little fart circles, land.  Yawn.   Literally I yawned typing that.

With that knowledge can any of you tell me why I thought buying that god damned toy helicopter that ‘claims’ to just cost $300 was a good idea?

Trouble started when I tried to mount a go-Pro camera on the damned thing and caused a crash of epic proportions breaking a gear and bending a shaft in the process.   Then some asshole on the internet added further insult to my injury by pointing out that I was an idiot for mounting anything on what is essentially a toy.

This is how I felt when internet bully told me I was retarded.   Also my internet Ar.Drone 2.0 forum name is Badgrl2, why are you judging?

This is how I felt when the internet bully told me I was retarded. Also my internet Ar.Drone 2.0 forum name is Badgrl2, why are you judging?

Fine mister internet forum smart guy … you were right, I was wrong.   Dick.

So off to the Ar.Parrot drone online “we’ knew you suckers would be back buying something sooner or later” store I went to buy a package of gears and shafts.

Next up the forward camera, after being introduced at high speed to a wall (or tree or bush or lord knows what) decided to break off.   Back to the on-line store for a new body structure because the only way to fix a broken forward facing camera is a new ‘body structure’ and you’re basically $80 poorer for the knowledge.

Some point before the new body structure arrived (but the retarded money pit was still flyable, just no damned camera) one of the four motors sent an encoded message back to ar.drone.com headquarters that said, “watch me fuck with this drunk idiot, this is going to be a hoot.”   Basically one motor wasn’t playing nice with all the other motors.    This drove me insane because it didn’t seem to be a motor problem at all.  These facts coupled with the fact that I have the mechanical aptitude of a monkey that’s addicted to meth made figuring out that little gem out — super-fun time.

A pack of two motors later, either because I figured if it can happen once it will happen again so order two or because they came in two packs (I don’t remember which it was), I’m starting to add shit up in my head.   Helicopter, $300.  Rotors and pins, $20, new body structure $80, Motor 2-pack $160.  Jesus fuck this … hobby is the wrong word … ‘retarded decision’ is getting expensive.

Then because the U.S. postal service is basically conspiring to fuck me the main body and the motors arrived but revealed to me that a special screw driver was needed to install them.  Ha-ha, I thought, screw you helicopter I know a full blown race car driver who has like ‘MAD tools.’  I’ll just show the screw to Ray Coley, he’ll have the tool for the job cause ‘have no fear, Ray Coley is here.”

Fourteen-million tries later Ray gave up and took me to a shop near the place we have beer-30 at and 20 euro later I had the tool in hand.  Ray commented that I had been looking visibly depressed before finally finding the tool.

He was of course correct, I was thinking of suicide.  Not my own, hell no I love

I hoped that killing the helicopter with a shotgun would be like this, only better.   I’d also cry after but they would be tears of joy and release.

I hoped that killing the helicopter with a shotgun would be like this, only better. I’d also cry after but they would be tears of joy and release.

me too much.  I was thinking of the helicopter’s suicide and that if it ever flew again how beautiful it would be to shoot it with a shotgun.   Maybe that’s murder though, I don’t know, I’ll leave that decision to history.

With the proper tool in hand I set to work.   The weather was nice, the sun was out and I spent hours in the garage, carefully disassembling and then reassembling, with the new parts, the goddamn nightmare of a helicopter.

Finally with new body assembly attached and broken motor replaced I fired up the iPad and … what the fuck, no firmware.   Seems replacing a tiny motor, leaving the thing without any power for weeks and/or I should have never bought a remote control helicopter in the first place, fucks up the firmware.

Who knew?

Firmware reinstalled the helicopter lifted off and flew around room smartly with me at the controls expertly … okay it took off to about half a foot before immediately committing an apparently suicidal back flip without any input from me at all.

Every. Single. Time.

Up 6 inches followed by a suicidal flip over thingy.  The helicopter hates me, or itself.  Maybe both.

I should add to this, even though it won’t make any sense, I’m also a black marketer.    I’m as good a black marketer as I am a remote control helicopter pilot in that I’m pretty sure my black marketing, this particular mistake aside, cost me money rather than made me money.    It would be hysterical if one of you would notify the German government of my crime so that I can pay a hefty fine … a hefty fine seems appropriate.

What the hell is this drunken idiot talking about, I can hear you asking.  Some of you are hitting the unsubscribe button and the guy considering offering me a book deal is likely crying right now.   I’m not drunk, don’t unsubscribe and look dude I still think “fear and loathing, now with beer” is a perfectly acceptable book title.

In other words, let me explain.

Somehow when Alex, visiting with Maggie, in February talked me into ordering the Ar.Drone Parrot money synch 2.0 I not only ordered the helicopter but I also put another one in my shopping cart at Amazon without realizing it.*

Fast forward to May when Dagmar’s German friend asked us to order a ‘shit-ton’ of barbeque equipment for her husband/boyfriend/dude she lives with/whatever I, like the obedient husband I am dutifully set about ordering all of it on Amazon, cause fuck German Value Added Tax and BBQ is good!

So, looking behind me to make sure no German custom’s agents were watching (they weren’t but the cat was – never trust the cat) I hit check out never realizing that a second Ar.Drone helicopter was in the cart.

Thus during my doom and despair phase, after the firmware had been updated, but while the helicopter was still doing retarded back flips shortly after takeoff, a brand new – never been flown into a wall at high speed helicopter arrived.   Dagmar was very supportive.  While she said, “What the fucking, fuck!  A second helicopter?  Are you fucking insane.” I knew she meant, “Todd I’m so happy you’ve solved your helicopter problem.  A second purchase of $300 is small price to pay for your piece of mind, go my love – go fly.”

And I did, straight into a tree so high that I had to ask the landlord for help getting my toy helicopter out.

Like this, only with more … well shit wait I can’t add anything more to this.  It’s exactly like this.

Drinking leads to things like this, only with more … well shit wait I can’t add anything more to this. It’s exactly like this.

*   Drinking can not only leads to unplanned pregnancies, herpes and surprise appearances on Girls Gone Wild but it can also lead to unwanted helicopters, that’s a pro-tip kids, write  it down .