Misanthropy 101

People just mess stuff up. I mean, sure, Afghanistan is too fucking dusty and too fucking hot but it really wouldn’t be that bad if the people weren’t always oppressing, raping and shooting each other and blowing everything up.

As a UN peacekeeper in southern (now South) Sudan many moons ago, I found the bush and climate to both be pretty decent…the people, not so much. That was the first place I found out that neither feces nor spousal abuse are considered disgusting in every culture.

Now, in the microcosm that is Kandahar Airfield, the same general rule applies. People ruin everything.

Oh, and I’ve thrown in some random food pictures that have nothing to do with the main text because pilots sometimes “read” this blog.

Didn’t see that coming.

It’s a Fucking Process

Hey, Mr. Non-Conformist, ya don’t get into the Cambridge Omelet line, place your order then wander away with your tray while the fry cook is about to serve up your omelet. The guy has a system. He knows which of the 9 omelets on the grill goes to the first guy, the second guy etc. You fucking walk away with your tray and he’s going to try and give everyone after you the wrong goddamn order. I don’t want your ridiculous egg whites (egg whites only…how bloody precious is that?) only cheese fucking omelet.

Rent a Goddamn Hall

Pretentious Gits – It’s fucking beans and wieners.

Look, if you’re gonna have an Idiot Convention, do you need to have it around the damn toaster in the Northline? Were those morons really surprised that a toaster with the elements turned down as low as possible and a conveyor going as fast as possible produced slightly above room temperature white bread? Jeez, first I had to muscle my way through the crowd of oblivious drones bellied right up to the toaster awaiting their warm bread only to be looked upon by half a dozen pairs of dead-eyes as I adjusted the heat and speed. After putting in my bread, I moved back out of the way to allow access to the toaster for the growing horde of zombies behind me only to watch the next guy just stare at the toaster, bread in hand, as if waiting for mine to come out before adding his. I cheerfully muttered “Go ahead” (it may have sounded more like “for fuck’s sake”) whilst glaring at him and he put his toast in…one at a time because figuring out the complex spatial orientation required to put them side by side was beyond his tiny reptilian brain. To hell with everyone who’s waiting, right.

My US Thanksgiving Dinner

It’s Not All About You

Gathering in an oblivious haze around a toaster is one thing, but at least nobody’s gonna get hurt by it. But riding two bikes abreast at night at 10 kph in a 20 zone is just asking for trouble. I successfully resisted both my first inclination to run them over and J’s recommendation of horn honks and light flashes….but just barely. Is that really the way you two US soldiers want to earn your purple heart?

So generous of you, Lux Dessert Guy

What is the collective noun for a motionless group of soldiers standing between rocket barriers blocking all access to a DFAC? If there isn’t already one, can I suggest “a moron of soldiers”?

Oh Poo!

Most of the indoor plumbing-challenged folks have been moved out of our building and the prevalence of random fecal deposits has greatly diminished…but not disappeared.

This is what steak looks like when it’s just given up trying.

DK reports seeing a half roll of toilet paper (yes, still on the roll) that someone had left on the floor of a stall after using it to wipe (yes, his ass). DK was quite indignant about this development but I, in my role as unit multiculturalism and tolerance officer, straightened him out. “Hey, at least he used toilet paper. That’s a major step forward right there. And, he knew enough not to plug the toilet by trying to flush it. Sometimes, you’re just too judgmental, DK.”

Sauceless Monday at Cambridge. Nothing on the slaw and nothing on the ribs.

As I was brushing my teeth a few days ago, one of our roomies finished up in the shower and slunk out the door, leaving the water running a little bit. Ever the friend of the earth, I went over to shut it off and, as I opened the shower curtain, I was met by an overwhelming stench of BO. What the hell? How does one come out of a shower smelling of sweat and bacteria? Isn’t making that stench go away the whole point? Why does he even bother? As I bitched to my wife about this on chat, she suggested that perhaps the young gentleman was just peeing in the shower rather than washing. Thanks…that made me feel a lot better about using those fetid stalls.

It’s Fucking Mexican Banana Day! – R

Yesterday morning, the washroom smelled exactly like a barn full of cows. Are they eating grass now? Really, if your shit smells like a cow’s ya oughta see a doctor. I’m not kidding.

Check the Calendar

Attention, all military pilots: Movember is over. Time to get rid of those cheesy, porn-star moustaches you’ve been sporting since you got issued your first flight suit and set of cool aviator sunglasses. Do you really want every woman on our team (that would be R), muttering “What a douche”, every time she sees you?

Bottom Line

Is it any wonder I hate everybody? Present company excepted, of course.

“I’m tired of this back-slappin’ “isn’t humanity neat” bullshit. We’re a virus with shoes.”
― Bill Hicks