Tuesday, April 22, 2014

'This One's For You Boats'


An old retired Boatswain is looking for a job, but the foreman won't hire him until he passes a little math test.

“Here is your first question…”

… the foreman said…

"Without using numbers, represent the number 9."

"Without numbers?"

… the Boatswain asks…

"That’s easy."

… and proceeds to draw three trees.

"What's this?"

…the boss asks…
 "Have you got no brain? Tree and Tree and Tree make nine!"

… says the Boatswain…
 "Fair enough."

…says the boss...

"Here's your second question.  Use the same rules, but this time the number is 99."

The Boatswain stares into space for a while, then picks up the picture that he has just drawn and makes a smudge on each tree.

"There you go."
 
The boss scratches his head and says…

"How on earth do you get that to represent 99?"

"Each of da trees is dirty now. So, it's dirty tree, and dirty tree, and dirty tree. That is 99."

The boss is getting worried that he's going to actually have to hire this ol’ coot, so he says…

"All right, last question. Same rules again, but represent the number 100."

The Boatswain stares into space some more, then he picks up the picture again and makes a
little mark at the base of each tree and says…

"There you go… One hundred!"

The boss looks at the attempt…

"You must be nuts if you think that represents a hundred!"

The Boatswain leans forward and points to the marks at the base of each tree and says…
 "A little dog come along and took a shit by each tree. So now you got dirty tree and a turd, dirty tree and a turd, and dirty tree and a turd, which makes one hundred."

… The boss is just dumbstruck…

"So, when I start?"


Saturday, April 19, 2014

‘Buckaroo Banzai’


The veracity of truthfulness and authenticity ought never stand in the way of a good ‘No Shitter’ I always say! Those factors should only be weighed in  scholarly  books and records for the statisticians & historians who make way for the laws of man and rational contemplation of religion and politics… something many of us should just agree to disagree on!! Nothing that governs the swashbuckl’n souls of hardy sea going Crackerjacks should ever limit or confine our colorful minds!! Sea Stories are the hand crafted inventiveness of nautical artisans from around the world… through the dawn of history, even if they are half cooked and dowsed in the finest bullshit concocted by bottom feeders from the outer most deepest jungle native voodoo.  At a thousand miles from nowhere, standing port and report watches we deserve the right to fill your boots full of doo doo… so here goes another one for ya!!!

In the Beginning, before the top brass became devoid of testicles and shore duty living quarters were turned into Holiday Inn Suites inclusive with daycare centers and spas, we were crammed into brick buildings deficient of air condition and some of the private luxuries of today’s Canoe Club! We weren’t living in anything like those old WWII barracks that boxcar hobo like characters had become familiar with but life was definitely interesting with one head per floor and open bay showers so we could wave our tally whackers at one another while scraping the barnacles off our foreskins!! We had mosquitos cross dressing as hummingbirds that could suck a golf ball through your whole gauddamned circulatory system and rats that fornicated with wild felines out the back door when the air was just right!! It made those hot summer nights feel like you’d been sweltering with a couple-0-sexy mice in a wool sock if you know what I mean!!!

In those days our way of life was rarely associated with the kinder, gentler types of civilized society… that didn’t come until the Clinton Era! Just imagine living in a small room with a week’s worth of dirty laundry, putrefied socks resembling used sheep skin condoms and t-shirts that stood up on end like the Petrified Forest!! You didn’t dare walk barefoot or your feet would learn to mate with a dozen different sorts of exotic fungus and mildew… ringworm, jungle rot, athletes foot, or the classic jock itch and several other forms of dermatological scourge that could make your skin crawl!!!

While coping with BEQ Petty Officers and Room Inspections while poking cigarette butts out manufactured holes through the window screens and spray’n foo-foo juice to mask the smells, transporting ironing boards and steam irons up three ladder wells after checking them out from the Quarterdeck while hauling fifty pounds of laundry up and down those same ladder wells to the Laundromat on the bottom floor, life could sometimes be a real joy! Nevertheless it was a place where shipmates could hang out, listen to each other bitch, play cards, watch the six channels on the boob tube or compare the merits and shortcomings of the latest muscle cars and double D Boob sizes in the latest nudie book bought and paid for at your local Navy Exchange!!  We took up collections for food and beer runs…

“Haines… pitch in for some beer will ya?!?”

“You kidd’n me? I’m so broke I can’t even pay attention!”

It was all fine and dandy until you had a roommate that changed his underwear maybe once in a new moon! Son-of-a-bitch could smell like he'd slept with road kill for the last fifteen days... stink’n to high heaven! Many a room reeked of industrial strength foo-foo just for this reason!! Hell, before long the entire passageways would smell like the inside of a lingerie drawer in a Cat House dressing room!!!

Then there was Joe… the son-of-a-bitch would snore so loud I’d  wake up throw’n  boots, books, dirty laundry, and any other gauddamned thing else within reach…

“Gauddamn Joe… are you saw’n logs or clearing brush?!?”

 He’d just roll over and snarl a bit! Five seconds later he’d be snoring like a freight train once again!!

“How can I get any shut-eye with all that gauddamned noise?”

“Nmnmnmnm… Snnnnnnzzzzz… Nmnmnmnm!!!”

He should have been banned from drinking beer and eating hard boiled eggs due to counter productivity by direction of COMNAVSURFPAC … And all that careless unplugging of the ass gas creat’n a gauddamned lethal green cloud of pungent poop incense.... It was a hell of a lot like sleep’n in a Karachi sewege drain... somewhere during the night the trapped air bubbled up like a monster hiccup and made its' way to the top of the reservoir.... once it escaped...you’d never forget that smell!!!

There were always local establishments outside the gate for consuming that made of hops & barley as well as finding attractive females with loose panty elastic and no curfew… but some shipmates were too young to partake in such iniquitous misgivings or such as the case of Shore Patrol beating the living hell out of my inebriated ass one evening… had a ringing in my ear for days! So we’d throw porch parties in the back of the barracks!! They’d always start with just a few shippies down’n some brew and by the end of the night half the damned barrack’s personnel were there… sing’n to raunchy songs that would make your Grandma proud and making damned fools of ourselves… something we all excelled at!! Hell I remember cramming half a dozen in a cab and tipping the bastard twenty bucks just to get us to Dirty Dan’s Pure Platinum by the airport!!!

Yeah buddy, feminine inspiration was always called for when we wanted to act like we were raised by wolves! Sometimes such an arrangement beat the hell outta try’n a romantic relationship with one of them local gals whose parents, preachers, teachers, and the local constable warned them about to stay the hell away from any fellar wearing a Crackerjack Uniform because all we wanted to do was get between them and their underpants!! Many a starry night a young pretty thing would find herself with her bra undone and her panties stolen as a trophy to be hung up above some barracks locker… which coincidently led to a handgun in me nether regions one fateful morning… but that’s from another story!! I can still remember being butt nekkit with some young sweet thing I’d snuck up the fire exit smell’n like natures honey!!!

And then there was Buck… the roommate of all roommates! Now knowing in this here Canoe Club, ragging on one another as shipmates is a well-known past-time!! It’s kind’a like an I ain’t gay kiss on the lips, and never give a compliment… we don’t want to inflate each other’s egos now do we?!? Well, Buck was just one of those kind’a guys!! ‘Buck… you’re going to hell in a hand basket… never mind, the Devil don’t want noth’n to do with you!! We were always pissing against the wind, tossing pillows, blankets, beer cans, furniture… and anything else under the sun at each other!! The son-of-a-bitch once came in late at night and lit a gauddamned Marlboro cigarette between my toes just to watch me jump up and bust the hell outta my rack in a panic!! Then other times he’d sneak in and steal my blanket running down the passageway snickering and cackl’n away!!!

Anyway, I digress… ! Buck had a Z28 Camaro that traveled at Warp Speed and your ass hang’n five inches off the ground, it really gave you that ol’ pucker factor feeling deep inside!! Somewhere down the line he took his car and met this gal in North Island by the name of Sara! Sara was a sweet look’n thing… I think she was a Mexi-mix of some sorts and boy she had some pretty brown eyes!! Anyhow, between Bob Segar’s ‘Night Moves’… his pretty Z28… and all the verbal bull fertilizer that could somehow emotionally produce a bouquet of roses, he had won her heart over and she was madly in love!! I can’t figure how he did it… but she was head over heels for that sumbitch!!!

One evening I had gotten out of my ‘C’ School class a bit earlier than expected and as soon as I popped the door open and flicked on the ol’ light… Buck jumps straight outta bed like I’d caught him jerking the bologna pony leaving lil’ Sara stark ass nekkit on the bed with her legs straight up in the air giving me a clear shot of her Mexican Taco… just before Buck was able to lay the Sour Cream…

“Buckaroo Banzai…”

“What the Fuck… can’t you knock first?!?”

“Why the Fuck would I knock? It’s my room too!”

I gotta tell you, she had quite a cute set of perky tits … I didn’t know rather to check my ass or scratch my watch!! There they were gett’n busier than a two dollar hooker on nickel night!! And from there on Buck was known as Buckaroo Banzai… that’s my story and I’m stick’n to it… I don’t give two shits what Buck says!!!

Yep… we were a bunch’a rollicking happy-go-lucky sons-a-bitchs, and we lived our lives like the literary virtue of a shit house limerick on the inside partition of a shitter stall!! Sometimes we cohabitated in what smelled like a Tijuana Shithouse and we had the social skills of a bunch’a Neanderthals but we had fun and the memories are as fresh as if they were yesterday!!!




Tuesday, April 15, 2014

‘A Sailor Walks Into a Gay Bar’

A Sailor walks into a gay bar and comes to this realization.

"What the heck"

…he says…

 "I really want a drink."

When the gay waiter approaches, he says to the Sailor…

"What's the name of your penis?"

The Sailor says…

"Look, I'm not into any of that. All I want is a drink!"

The gay waiter says…

"I'm sorry but I can't serve you until you tell me the name of your penis. Mine for instance is called Nike, for the slogan ‘Just Do It.”

… the Sailor looks a bit taken back…

“That guy down at the end of the bar calls his Snickers, because 'It really Satisfies."

The Sailor looks dumbfounded so the bartender tells him he will give him a second to think it over! So the Sailor asks the man sitting to his left, who is sipping on a beer…

"Hey bud, what's the name of your penis?"

…The man looks back and says with a smile…

"TIMEX."

…The thirsty Sailor asks…

"Why Timex?"

The fella proudly replies…

"Cause it takes a lick’n and keeps on tick’n!"

A little shaken, the Sailor turns to the fella on his right, who is sipping a fruity Margarita and says…

"So, what do you call your penis?"

…The man turns to him and proudly exclaims…

"FORD, because Quality is Job ONE!!"

…Then he adds…

"Have you driven a Ford, lately?"

Even more shaken, the Sailor has to think for a moment before he comes up with a name for his penis! Finally, he turns to the bartender and exclaims…

"The name of my penis is Secret. Now give me my beer!"

The bartender begins to pour the Sailor a beer, but with a puzzled look asks…

"Why Secret?"

The Sailor exclaims…

"Because it's STRONG ENOUGH FOR A MAN, BUT MADE FOR A WOMAN!!!"

Friday, April 11, 2014

‘Crackerjack Sailors in the After Life’


Gabriel came to the Lord and said…

 "I have to talk to you. We have some Navy Sailors up here who are causing problems! They're swinging on the pearly gates, my horn is missing, breakfast SOS is all over their robes, they’re racing the chariots, and they're wearing dixie cups and piss cutters instead of their halos. They refuse to keep the ladder to heaven clean…. There are beer cans all over the place… Some of them are walking around with just one wing!"

Then the Lord sayeth…

"Crackerjacks are Sailors, Gabriel. Heaven is home to all my children. If you want to know about real problems, call the Devil!"

The Devil answered the phone…

"Hello? HOLD ON ONE MINUET!"

The Devil returned to the phone…

 "O.K., I'm back. What can I do for you?"

Gabriel replied…

"I just want to know what kind of problems you're having down there."

The Devil said…

"Hold on again. I need to check on something!"

After about 5 minutes the Devil returned to the phone and said…

"I'm back. Now what was the question?"

Gabriel said…

"What kind of problems are you having down there?"

The Devil said…

"Man, I don't believe this....Hold on."

This time the Devil was gone 15 minutes. He returned and said…

"I'm sorry Gabriel, I can't talk right now. Those damned A-Gangers have put out my fire and are trying to install a gauddamned  air conditioner!!!"





Tuesday, April 8, 2014

‘Lil Miss Diamond Tooth’


One of the rotten realities of getting older is how the availability of that laundry list of adventures which motivated us Crackerjacks when we were younger keeps getting shorter as time ticks on!! The bucket list gets half full and there ain’t no more gauddamn time or energy left to repeat some of the best parts… or chew on the tenderloins as my ‘sea daddy’ used to say!!!

Anybody remember their favorite bar on Magsaysay… or maybe it was the Teddy Bear in Barrio or Marilyn’s in Subic City!?! I had a brief Honey Koe from the Top Gun in Olongapo… she set one of me shipmates up with a cute little gal sport’n a diamond in one of her front teeth!!!

Now that gal was one hell of a looker! My buddy, who shall remain nameless, spent a fortune on ‘buy-me-drinks’ before he finally funded his bar fine over to said establishment expecting one hell of a long time girl!! Meanwhile me on my shippy headed to my gal’s humble abode only to meet up with the two Honey Koes a bit later!! When they arrived… ‘Lil Miss Diamond Tooth’ appeared shnockered to the core before my shipmate finally pulled her into the back room!!!

As the night slowly went by, I was doing my business while they were doing theirs…

“Punyeta… Anak ng Puta!! Walang hiya ka!!!”

… we jumped up and skedaddled in a hurry to see what all the fuss was about…

“Punyeta… Putang ina mo!”

… or something of the effect, my Tagalog is shitty at best…

“What the hell is all the fuss about?”

… Squirming in her seat, face as red as a baboon’s ass…

“Pagtatalik Puwit… Punyeta Puwit!!!”

… or something or rather…

Next thing I now both gals go in the other room as my Honey Koe gives me an evil eye!! You know when they do that things just ain’t right!!!

As near as I could tell my buddy did something awful and ‘Lil Miss Diamond Tooth’ wasn’t too happy about it! Finally my little Honey Koe comes stepping out pointing her finger at me and telling me we weren’t welcome there no more…

“What… What the Hell?!? What did I do?” 

Next thing I know my buddy comes outta the back room and grabs me by the elbow…

“Come on bro… we gotta  go!”

“What the hell’s the hurry?!?”

“Don’t question it… let’s just get outta here!”

We get to walk’n back towards Magsaysay and he enlightens me on the details of what just transpired in front of my uncertain eyes! Apparently ‘Lil Miss Diamond Tooth’ decided to pass out or feign passing out right in the middle of the act of hiding the salami…

“Aaaah Hell No… I wasn’t having none of that, so I went to brown town and decided to plow the ol’ backfield!”

“Say what?” 

“Yeah… right up the ol’ Hershey Highway… You should’a seen her… she was jumpier than a fart on a griddle!”

“Man you’re going to hell in every religion… that’s richer than three feet up a bull’s ass!”

“That’s alright… she was so drunk she couldn’t find her ass with both hands… about as useless as a tit on a boar hog!” 

“You wasted a bar fine!”

“Naaah, while ya’ll were in the other room listening to her carry’n on I reached in her purse and got my money back!”  

“Man you’d give a bull dog’s ass the heartburn… now I’m down one Honey Koe!”

“Don’t worry too much about it… we’re in the PI… they’re a dime a dozen… besides, if you can’t find another one you can always self-sacrifice to the God of lonely nights as I always say!”

“That’s so gauddamned wrong in ooooh sooo many ways!”

… and off to Via’s Taco stand and a few more bars we went! I know… I know… that was really fucked up, but in the moment, I was laugh’n my ass off because all I could see was that poor girl’s face and how pissed she was in all her Tagalog & Fury!! There’d been bigger assholes in the PI… like the sons-a-bitches light’n pesos red hot for one of them peso shows or what have ya… so don’t judge damn it!!!  

Besides, the joke was on us… how many lack jawed bastards stood in front of the binnacle list days after leaving ‘Fantasy Land’… how many got the shits from drink’n the water or got food poisoning from the balut, lumpia & monkey meat… lumpia & monkey meat… monkey meat… I don’t give a damned what it really is, that shit is damn good!!!

Yes those were the good ol’ days… Any man who hadn't drank his mojo... played catch the peso with a ten year old pinoy over the bridge at shit river... given away his dixie cup to a snicker’n little darling of a honey koe... or taken an early morning way past your curfew whiz in a dark alley... or slept under a corrugated tin roof with the loveliest ‘LBFM’  you’d ever laid eyes on must’a missed out on one of the greatest ol’ Canoe Club pastimes ever made available to a half lit under educated bottom feed’n Crackerjack that there ever was!!