‘Not Quite Navy Pin-Up Material’

I could get browbeaten for writing… hell even think’n about this one! I suppose maybe I need my consciousness raised!!  I’d expect after twenty three years maybe I suffer from some kinda major depression, schizophrenia, bipolar, obsessive compulsive disorder… hell who knows!?! 

One thing is for damn sure… things were much more amusing when the rooms weren’t so stuffy with the Holier than Though ‘PC’ Police at every corner! Political Correctness in the new Canoe Club ferments like a jar of mayonnaise in the heat of summer, bubble, bubble… toil & trouble!!  Sometimes it seems today’s Crackerjack Canoe Club has become nothing more than a castrated religious order!!!

 

Life could get a little boring on board at times! If you could piss somebody off, it was entertaining!! It might sound peculiar, but that was the Navy way… when Crackerjacks were pretty gauddamned simple… they lacked sophistication and didn’t always understand the world the way they ought to and simply put, some were just dumber than retarded possums!! But that’s how we liked it… and how we built comradery!!!

 

There was no subject out of bounds when we played our practical jokes! Nothing was sacred underway … not until we became neutered, made carefully inoffensive, and in general browbeaten by the ‘PC’ Police! Men swore like sailors… like standing in line at a two-dollar whorehouse!!  Men acted like sailors… making Attila the Hun look like a milk-fed pansy in lacey shorts!!!

Let’s just say Alice in Wonderland is more plausible than some of the crazy shit that went on underway…!!!

 Something had to be done to fertilize the minds of the borderline retarded!  I say that with the full brotherly affection of one Crackerjack to another!! When the hours crawled like picnic ants and you just got off the messenger watch or standing in foul weather aft lookout… hiking your way down to berthing needing massive amounts of Xanax to quell the anxiety… what better than a little bit of Rochambeau or Towel Snapp’n Sport to blow a little steam?!?

The place smelled like whales went there to die… walking past all the dipshits and dirtballs scrutinizing the same movie played on the lobotomy box night after night! Some poor unlucky soul falls asleep in the berthing lounge and with all the grab ass & horseplay you could muster in a deck division berthing… Let’s just say a fella named Maxwell could resist anything but temptation!!!

 

Another Deck Seaman we’ll refer to as Junior fell asleep at one of the crew’s lounge tables with his head cocked back and his mouth wide open! Yes… you can probably imagine what happened next!!  Max walked by as several shipmates stood about coaxing each other to stick the snotty end of a fuck stick next to Junior’s mouth!!!

Max must’ve figured… "what the hell"… and escorted the one eyed wanker out of his dungaree cell and cuddled it up to Junior’s Gobbler for one of them fabulous Unauthorized Naval Photo Ops!!  Junior apparently woke up as confused as a blind lesbian in a fish market and Max’s ‘Bone-a-Phone’ was as welcomed as a turd in a swimming pool!!

Unfortunately for Max he wasn’t photogenic enough for Navy Pin-Up material so therefore hadn’t the authorization to take such classified photos!! It did teach junior to never sleep with your mouth open so others could triumphantly exhibit their skin flutes!!!

Nevertheless, Junior decided to write a publicized tell-all to his Chain-of-Command! When the report chit was ran and got to the Skipper… he was lit up like a Roman Candle!! His temper shrieked like fingernails down a chalkboard!! All I remember was... It was funny as hell!!!

 

A few days later a young Seaman Maxwell was standing tall at the bridge-wing in immaculate summer whites ready for the Skipper, all silent and erect! I was one of the Master-At-Arms preparing for the official ceremonies at large!! Once inside and introductions & atrocities were made known…

 

“Jeezus H. Christ… Son! What the hell got into you?  Where is your gauddamned self-control and consideration for others? There are a million diversions to keep you from doing stupid shit onboard!  Why would you whip out your willy in someone’s face?”

 

“I guess out of boredom Sir!”

 "Son, I don't give a faint fucking, bleary-eyed damn about your dumb-ass boredom! I've been thirty years in this gauddamned outfit, and nothing has ever struck me quite so uninteresting as your Fucking Boredom. All I care about is ‘Good Order & Discipline!’ No ‘Good Order & Discipline’ equals no Liberty and lots of Extra Duty!"

 

… I remember standing there at attention imagining Maxwell in a pink tutu and rain boots, with sparkly non-heterosexual Elton John type sun glasses and a purple afro wig dangling his Fleshy Pogey Bait in front of ol’ Junior… nah, just my vivid imagination at work!!!

 

Maxwell got to spend the next five weeks doing the outright nastiest jobs on the ship for extra duty! I remember as Master-At-Arms assigning him to Engineering underway for bilge cleaning and to Hazmat for cleaning the paint locker which was the size of a semi-trailer laden to the hilt with loaded cans to be removed for plenty of paint scrapping so they could repaint the deck!! Okay… so the fella had a bit of vacancy on the top floor if you know what I mean!!!

 

It was a long time ago… when we were young and lived like mythical swashbuckl’n pirates in the Ol’ Canoe Club! Now do I think he got what he deserved? Absolutely… but at nineteen years old, young’ns right outta High School do stupid shit… they always have and always will!! In today’s Order of Sea Cadets and Nautical naivety I’d imagine he would get much worse!! Probably somewhere along the lines of Attempted Sodomy and Sexual Assault leading to several years in the Brig!! Makes us old bastards stand around and wonder what the hell’s going on with this new Canoe Cabaret!!!

 

 

 

 

‘You might be a Shipmate’

‘You might be a Shipmate’

Ain’t it funny how ‘Shipmate’ is only used when you're in trouble or someone is trying to get your attention? I think the original concept was for bonding together as a team… but we use it as a term of endearment like “Hey asshole.” So here is a list of ‘Shipmate’ meanings I found on another site I hope entertains you:

 

·         You might be a "Shipmate" if...

·         You scream out to the guy in front of you "Hey, Shipmate" even though his name is written across his ass

·         You scream "Hey, Shipmate!" to the guy in front of you when his name ISN'T written across his ass and proceed to shit all over him for it

·         You think you're "helping" by reporting all divisional problems to the Chief or above to receive input on how to fix said problems

·         A backpack on someone's shoulder means something to you

·         You actually READ the "All Hands" magazine rather than just grab a few for when you're out of toilet paper

·         You wear camouflage and you're in the navy

·         You think a counseling chit is a useful tool vice a punishment

·         You get offended if someone has a PAPERCLIP attached to their uniform

·         You only associate with people that have the same sized nest under their crow...or bigger

·         Whenever asked to perform some mundane task, your first impulse is to find someone with fewer stripes

·         It is more important to you to have a clean, pressed working uniform than actually soil it doing work

·         Other people do your work for you

·         You are always the first person in line for food

·         You want to be president of the First Class Association

·         You have military creases on your dungarees

·         You wear the title of "Lifer" proudly

 

 

'Tattered Skivvies'

This is something you’ll never see in today’s Canoe Club…

 

Long, Long ago in a Navy far, far away when men were men and made of steel there was a Tin Can Crackerjack of preposterous proportions with the bluster of a ‘Royal Son-of-a-Bitch!’ By look’n at the fella you could tell he needed a new paint job, maybe some tinted windows and a new set of rims!! He had a huge beer belly with enough hair for a mattress factory, always stick’n out the bottom of his dingy old yellow undershirt!! His dimensions were so out of proportion you could park a bus in the shadow of his ass!! Just look’n at him made you wonder if evolution had made some terrible mistake!!!

It was late on a Sunday afternoon onboard this tin can some time back in the mid-fifties and the ship had just pulled in for a fantastic weekend of liberty in Palm Beach, Florida! But, the day prior to the ship’s scheduled departure a pre-arranged ‘Open House’ family friendly tour began early that morning!! Meanwhile our protagonist had a hangover giving him a headache like something ugly crawled up his ear and made permanent residence!!!

Having returned sometime in the early morn’ from an all-night drinking spree, our hero had collapsed like whale flotsam all onto his rack and fallen into a deep blessed sleep! Suddenly, and all too soon, he was rudely aroused and stirred by the commotions from above!!. Angry as a hibernating grizzly bear he pulled himself from the depth of his slumber in a darkened and smelly berthing compartment… staggered across the deck to the ladder and commenced to raise some hell!! With the elegance of a bladder infection he fully intended to inflict upon his inconsiderate shipmates a tongue-lashing they would never forget!!!

He struggled up the ladder and stumbled onto the main deck, with his brain spinning like a hamster wheel! As he tottered precariously and bleary-eyed out the hatch, dressed only in his skivvies with huge tattered holes revealing his meat & veggies for all to see... it was like a Reggae Band walk’n in on a Ku Klux Klan Rally!! With the bright lights shining in his eyes and not having the sense God gave a one-eyed Dixie-fried possum…

“ Gauddamn It! Ya’ll are as noisy as a skeleton wanking himself on a tin roof… now cut out the racket before I cancel your birth certificates!”

… Our poor, hung-over star had the perceptiveness of a crawfish in a mudhole! He continued to steady himself with great effort in the doorway wince he realized all the visitors, dressed in their best Sunday dress, as they froze in awe where they were milling about!! Our hero by excruciating contrast was attired in his tattered, ancient skivvies, which consisted of a few strips of yellow stained cotton hanging from the elastic waistband like a roman loin cloth!!!

Blissfully unaware of the true impression presented by his butt nakedness and his uncontrollable rage, he started swearing, and mumbling loudly devastating obscenities at everyone on deck… 

"Knock off that fucking noise you gauddamned idiots! It’s fuck’n Sunday! How is a guy to get any fucking sleep down in that fucking hole you call a berthing with all that fucking racket going on!"

…Trouble was, the ‘fucking’ crewmen on deck on this ‘fucking’ Sunday morning were mostly young mothers and their little girls dressed up in their finest church clothes, shocked to death at the sight of this obviously still drunk, uncouth sailorman with ‘Wally the one eyed Pete’ in full view, cursing to High Heaven!! To think that those sweet, innocent little girls got a look at something they had no right to see until they had grown up and were properly married!!!

Feeling thoroughly humiliated, he dejectedly headed back to berthing! Later while sitt’n next to his locker with his chin in his hands after a good ass chewing from the Chief & figuring he’d be going to Skippy’s Mast the next day…

 "Jeez you guys, why didn't you tell me all those ladies and little girls were there, I was totally blinded by what was going on!"

…To which his unsympathetic buddies replied…

 "Come on, you fuck’n idiot… that was so disgusting! Why don’t you let the flies out of your wallet and spring for a new set of skivvies for once!"

I suppose he felt about as outta place as a pork chop in a synagogue! Well, he got no consideration from his shipmates on that day!!!

 

 

 

‘What Ima Do With A Drunken Sailor’

There was a time in the ol’ Canoe Club when we didn’t need the so called ‘Mandatory Buddy System!’ Shipmates you pulled liberty with were tighter than Siamese Twins and always had each other’s back!! With the regularity of sunrise, they’d haul your ass onboard from the local gin mill or had your ‘six’ in a pickled brawl… that’s just how we rolled!!!

 

Back when it was alright to have two beers on a liquid lunch while leaving hull numbers widdled in every bar stool from here to Shanghai! Like Cool Hand Luke, we’d take the currency from indigenous folk from around the globe while bestowing collegiate level eight-ball upon them while eat’n the barbequed monkey meat & slurp’n down San Migoos, Tiger Beers & Singhas all the while gett’n coaxed off corrugated tin roofs by Shore Patrol and the local Keystone Constable!! We got drunk on stuff they called the Mojo & the Bull Frog… the kind’a stuff that could probably qualify as weapons of mass retardation!!!

 

We cohabitated with the kind’a lady friends ‘Our Lady Of Lourdes’ would have given you the ‘double fisted kutz’ across your knuckles with an aluminum yard stick and never… ever approved of!!!

 

In those days of Yore, I had a runningmate we called ‘Smitty’ who had a Southern Accent like Karo Syrup dripping off busted china! He was a loud Happy-Go-Lucky, Jack Daniels drink’n redneck kind’a sumbitch!! He was crazy as a duffel bag full of shit throw’n monkeys but we put a lot of beers away together!!!

 

That being said, he was the kind’a fella you wanted around in case you were approached by a bunch of inbred mutant fuckups from B.F.E.! One helluva dangerous brawler with some real kind’a anger control problems!! Actually, he didn’t think he had a problem… as he was perfectly fine with slapp’n the hell outta people he thought needed it!!!

 

The man looked like a fireplug with leprosy, with moon craters a monster truck would have a hard time with! With a voice like he’d been chain smok’n Camels laced in Drano, he wasn’t pretty to look at and he never minced words!!

 

“I’ve been work’n like three donkeys on Texas Crank!”

 

… He would say, which was ironic as he was one extremely lazy sun-of-a-bitch who I don’t recall ever doing anything the least bit productive!! Of course I never said that, will deny ever say’n that, and claim that I was hauled off to a Trans-Siberian Gulag by some KGB folks look’n to yank out my dingleberries and set my testicles on fire!! Like I said… we put away a lot of beers together!!!

 

Attempting to start out on liberty at noon to have a beer in every bar within a twenty mile radius…

 

“Come on Swing, I’m look’n for a place with an infinite supply of beer that makes a sweat filled whorehouse seem like a venue of childhood innocence!”

 

“Let’s check out the sights first… we got plenty of time for drinking when the sun goes down!”

 

“Deployment is like a boner kid… long and hard! I need to wet my whistle, then wet my other whistle when that sun you talk about goes down… if ya know what I mean!”

 

“Spoken like a true alcoholic… having less judgment than bugs in a moonshine bottle!”

 

“Hell I ain’t no alcoholic… I’m a drunk! Alcoholics go to meetings!”

 

Well, he always said opinions were like assholes, everybody’s got one and they all stink! He never was taught how to behave around people who wore shoes!! I suppose I could have found one of them four eyed yeoman types to drink with but what fun would that be? Let’s face it… like a Jerry Springer show, a night on the town with this fella was hard to beat!! One thing was for gauddamned sure, you could guarantee anything from ol’ Smitty, he was never watered down!!!

 

So like barbarians on a pillage we’d cross the brow and venture the town… where ever the hell that was!

 

“We’ve walked a mile and not a drop to drink… where are all the bars, dens of sin, and hole in the wall beer joints? I’m look’n for a dirt dive with a five dollar sally in the alley!”

 

“Why don’t we find a reputable place to hang out?”

 

“LISTEN HERE… People who hang out in shit holes and back alley taverns are a helluva lot more interesting than ones that don’t!”

 

“I wonder about you sometimes!”

 

 “Well it don’t pay to wonder ‘bout things too much… life ain’t all ham hocks and home fries ya know!”

 

That’s when we’d finally found a place to toss the family fortune in the center of the table and suck up some suds! I don’t remember the name of this ‘Last Chance Saloon’ somewhere in the Singapore… but it was happening!! There were some pretty ladies and lots of music play’n and we were drink’n the local whiskey like it was water!!!

 

Smitty looked at his ‘glass-0-beer’ and noticed a long pint fluke at the bar and said he had to have one of those! I guess he thought he was Teddy Roosevelt charg’n ol’ San Juan Hill the way he took that pint glass and hollered…

 

“BOTTOMS UP!”

 

… ‘Cause he was a drunken sailor… and that’s what drunken sailors do!!!

 

I knew it was gonna be a long night the way he was carry’n on! Double fist’n one shot… two shot… three shot… four!! A devastating acquaintance would be made in the morning… but it didn’t matter… nothing mattered!!!

 

Ten shots into the night and we were well on our way! We got outside and I could tell ol’ Smitty was already shit faced!!  He could barely walk as he kept falling down the sidewalk!! I knew I was gonna have to baby-sit the son-of-a-bitch!!

 

“Look at you Smitty… Your drunk off your ass!”

 

“Gauddamn it… I ain’t drunk… I’m jessst gettt’n sertttt’d!”

 

He was the kind of fella who could hit you so hard it would realign your hair follicles! I didn’t want any unscheduled dental work… so I didn’t argue!! I’d realized we weren’t gett’n inside anymore bars with him in this shape!!!

 

We were a pretty good ways from the liberty launch, so we started walking back in that direction! He made it just a few blocks and decided to take a nap there on the curb!! I weighed my options, then hoisted this big fella over my shoulder and started for the pier!!

 

I guess in his inebriated state he was losing control of his innards! For the next few blocks he was butt burp’n every gauddamned step of the way!! I'd shift him from shoulder to shoulder and he'd fart again like he was rebuilding the ozone layer one poof at a time!!!

Another block and I was done carrying him!! Between the physical strain of carrying the big ol’ son-of-a-bitch and the stench of his gastric projection, he wasn't going over my shoulder anymore!! I was gauddamned pissed off at this point!! Using my foot, I rolled him over a few times down the way… one anal burp blaster after another!!!

 

I was done… but I couldn't leave him passed out roadside somewhere in Singapore! We had no car, I couldn't carry him anymore, and he didn't roll over curbs or sidewalks very well!! In a complete stroke of luck, a taxi passed by and asked if we needed a ride. So we hauled the big ol’ boy in the taxi and had to prop him up all ‘Weekend at Bernie's’ like…  while he was Blow’n Reveille out his ass like a bugle!!!

Before we got to the liberty launch while giving the car some extra gas he’d somehow managed to upchuck a peristaltic pyrotechnic show all over the back seat and floor of the taxi! Needless to say the taxi driver wasn’t too pleased!! We finally got to our destination and I apologized profusely as a few shipmates swarmed outta nowhere to help us out!!!

 

“Come on Smithy… You can do it… You’ve got this licked!”

 

The whole way back on the liberty boat he was feeding the fish while piss’n himself! We finally make it to the ship and he was escorted to his rack lett’n out one air biscuit after another with puke runn’n down his frontside & a big ol’ wet spot down his leg!! He was lett’n loose of so much gas he was burning a hole in his shorts!! Eventually it got so bad in berthing he couldn’t handle his own odiferous sense and was in the head doing the toilet tango in techno color once again!!!

 

I’ve spent many a night contemplating unison and harmony with the Porcelain God.. but he took the cake that night! I can still here the bastard singing some song I’d never heard before…

 

♪♪ Not so long ago on the one-eyed monster there was a girl of nineteen… so I split her guts until I ruptured her spleen… ♪♪

 

Yep… Drunken Sailors tend to form some kind’a inebriated bond… Like a special club that only us Seafaring Type are allowed to join! Some of us never learn the lesson that you never really buy beer, you just rent it!! As we found ourselves at the liberty launches at 0200 hours in the morning piss’n over the side of the liberty boat while reduced to the lowest common denominator, wreaking havoc on practically everything in our path… we were capsized drunk!!!

 

Yeah, we’d get back and get told what poor ambassadors of our country we had become! But you can guarantee one thing… shipmates would never leave you passed out in a strange alley… without cab fare or an extra few pesos for thirty minutes of euphoria!!  Thank God Employers hire old retired sailors based off what we know and not where we spent our ol’ Canoe Club years drink’n beer!!!