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Ya wanna know who’s getting stabbed (part deux). Stabby stabby stabby. I’m normal, I swear. I get mad all the time, like, all the time. Over the years I’ve thankfully controlled my anger and stayed out of jail. What keeps me from landing a flying elbow drop on the sweet Korean lady that messed up my food? I really have no clue, it’s a swell mixture of apathy and not wanting to make a fool of myself in public. Sometimes that filter in my brain stops me gets bypassed. Sometimes someone throws the override switch and let’s it all out at once. Sometimes a situation arises in which my ‘$%@& it’ button starts getting spammed repeatedly. THE BACKGROUND I’ve been in the military a long, long time and seen hundreds of changes in our troops and resources. Every generation thinks the next generation just doesn’t have any discipline anymore. With our prospects of going back to war waning, standards tend to get relaxed and certain things start to go to the way side. I’m not a stereotype of a soldier, in fact I’m laid back and softspoken most times, I realized I don’t need to yell to get what I wanted out of people. The problem with the military is it attracts idiots who played too much call of duty in high school. Their poor bodies can’t cash the check that their thumbs and eyes talked them into writing. They mope around the post, not caring – infecting the air and waiting to leave. I feel for them, I was once a young and scared soldier. Please, just leave. Don’t make your cute jokes, don’t post on Facebook about stuff you don’t know about. Pack your things and go. THE SITUATION. At 5pm every day the flag goes off and we have to stop what we are doing and salute. Five minutes before that a warning goes off, nine times out of ten people grumble and put their cigarette out. It’s a timehonored tradition, and sometimes people forget that it’s sacred to us. I’m no Barney Fife but I respect our history and traditions. And then it happened…

Stabbed

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Page 1: Stabbed

Ya wanna know who’s getting stabbed (part deux).   Stabby stabby stabby.  I’m normal, I swear.  I get mad all the time, like, all the time.  Over the years I’ve thankfully controlled my anger and stayed out of jail.  What keeps me from landing a flying elbow drop on the sweet Korean lady that messed up my food? I really have no clue, it’s a swell mixture of apathy and not wanting to make a fool of myself in public.  Sometimes that filter in my brain stops me gets bypassed.  Sometimes someone throws the override switch and let’s it all out at once.  Sometimes a situation arises in which my ‘$%@& it’ button starts getting spammed repeatedly.  THE BACKGROUND I’ve been in the military a long, long time and seen hundreds of changes in our troops and resources.  Every generation thinks the next generation just doesn’t have any discipline anymore.  With our prospects of going back to war waning, standards tend to get relaxed and certain things start to go to the way side.  I’m not a stereotype of a soldier, in fact I’m laid back and soft­spoken most times, I realized I don’t need to yell to get what I wanted out of people.  The problem with the military is it attracts idiots who played too much call of duty in high school.  Their poor bodies can’t cash the check that their thumbs and eyes talked them into writing.  They mope around the post, not caring – infecting the air and waiting to leave.  I feel for them, I was once a young and scared soldier. Please, just leave.  Don’t make your cute jokes, don’t post on Facebook about stuff you don’t know about.  Pack your things and go.  THE SITUATION. At 5pm every day the flag goes off and we have to stop what we are doing and salute.  Five minutes before that a warning goes off, nine times out of ten people grumble and put their cigarette out.  It’s a time­honored tradition, and sometimes people forget that it’s sacred to us. I’m no Barney Fife  but I respect our history and traditions.  And then it happened… 

Page 2: Stabbed

 A young, tall male stood up and proceeded to salute like a Nazi Soldier in WWII, exchanging a casual glance and giggle with his friends.  Time stopped.  My mind took an inventory to see if I had suffered a stroke, or had a fever past 108 degrees.  My mouth went dry, and all I could think of was those Japanese kamikazes screaming nonsense as they furiously nose­dived their plane into another’s.  In my mind I imagined roaring and sprinting to straight up man­tackle this kid, and take him to the ground.  This is where sanity comes in, that little angel that perches on your shoulder and keeps you out of jail tells you it’s not worth it.  Then you think, maybe this is all my fault?  I guess no one ever told him NOT to be a disrespectful little prick, maybe I should let everyone know that.  Note to self: Let the guys know that our nation’s colors shouldn’t receive the Hitler salute.