Since I ‘Missed’ TBT this past week…

I simply MUST catch up. Below please find one of MY Personal Favorites:

“SEAL Training: Psych Evaluation”

***

While stationed at Great Mistakes (Errrr…Great Lakes) Naval Training Command, I did my due diligence and qualified for BUD/s (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training in Coronado, California)

After passing the physical physical and clearing all the other stuff (mostly based upon my ASVAB scores and my ability to swim like a dolphin), A Final Task faced me: I had to pass unblemished through an interview with a psychiatrist. Just a formality, right? (Last hurdle: “Lance, do NOT fuck this up.”)

Sailor

Sailor Lance

This should be fun,” I recall thinking as I waited for my interview.

I was eventually summoned and sat my ass down in front of a geeky, mouse-eyed shrink. He obviously had ‘issues’ of his own. This I could discern straight-away from his limp-wristed demeanor. And obviously the only SEAL he had ever met was in some vain dream fantasy.

No matter. I was there just to get my ticket punched.

After a dozen or so stupid questions about such things as how did I feel about my mother, have I ever killed anything (Uh, do frogs count?), the price of tea in China, ad nauseam, he came to his pièce de résistance:

“Seaman Marcom,” he broached, “If you were ordered by your SEAL Team Leader to go in and clear a room whilst on a mission, and you burst into this room only to discover an elderly lady in a rocking chair reading a bible, what would you do?”

I waited for my dramatic pause, then said,

“Sir, I would shoot the bible.”*

Smiling, I observed him take his rubber stamp out and stamp “Approved” on my papers.

“California Here I Come”

Right Back Where I Started From

Video Credit: L. Heitmann via YouTube

https://www.youtube.com/user/IrRrIS1l3nt

*Footnote:

In the Nav, we have bombastic bullshit ‘tellings’, euphemistically known as ‘Sea Stories’. These are always introduced with the mandatory preamble:

“Now, this is a no-shitter…”

The above telling (though completely factual) is a wonderful example of same.

It’s Memorial Day Weekend: Go find yourself a Sailor and say, “Hey Sailor, New in Town?” Then hug him/her.

 

Some Folks I know (and admire)

Throw out a “Stream of Consciousness”

Writing Challenge.

“Git on Wid It!” They Inspire, hemorrhaging inspiration. 

I do applaud this!

I find it wonderful (and inspirational)

I do never partake however, because…

Well; it just ain’t for me.

All my writing fits that ill (er, bill)

Honestly, I bathe in a stream of consciousness. (Isn’t it painfully obvious? Regarding that observation? I beg to mean: for those who actually read my stuff… It must be unerring to surmise that “Lance is crazy: He don’t even edit his own stuff. He just throws it all out there and watches where it may land.”)

Ophilia

Ophilia

Yup: Guilty.

Here is but one example (and be thee forewarned: It may be offensive–don’t really know myself, since I never read my shit after I write it and publish it–lie right there–I edit to death, but I am still in denial, so we just won’t go there, not here Dear.)

Actually “I post, then I edit” Wrong? Yes? I know, but that is just how I roll.

Anyhow, It is Memorial Day Weekend and I am cooking Ribs this afternoon, so I am immune to any and all criticism. This is the way of my (Texan) world. (Hey! And I get beer too!)

********

Okay, I know Y’all done been waiting avec baited breath for whatever story I done forgot to paste…

Here is one: I do hope it be german…germane to the topic:

If not, well, “Tomorrow is another day.”

(I do think Scarlett said it better than me, back in ’39)

Alright:

I had bookmarked my most obnoxious post to post here (in hope of generating some debate) Alas: I lost the link (and I tend to refer to myself as a computer geek: guess it all falls apart right there…)

Anyway…

Here is all I got to put this one to bed. (Yes! I know. It sucks, but hey! It cost you nothing but some time–which you cannot price–can you?)

And, believe me this:  

I do know how valuable your time is; this is why I admire and appreciate your taveling this far with me.

Cheers,

Lancer

Oh Shit! Almost Forgot! Here is the bleeding story below and there are remnants of links too, if ya be of interest in my writing style. And if not, well…not then.)

My Good Friend Russell over there at

http://russelrayphotos2.com/

Kindly commented on my Post,Street Where I Lived

Russ said,

“If you really want to have fun, go to Google Earth or Google Street View and look up all your old homes. I did it and found every place I ever lived, took a screen shot, and saved them for posterity, of which there will be none……..lol”

I smartly replied,

“That is an excellent idea.

No posterity for me either. After four marriages, still no children. Just never seemed to get around to it.

Thank you Russel for stopping by and reading.

Cheers”

Then…few days later… I said,

“OK, so I went Google Earth Trolling… Most of the places I have ever lived are toxic waste sites now, they got the Bio-hazard signs up an’ ever’thang.

I need to focus on my future, If I have one.

Laughing

(Laughing helps)

Thanks for the suggestion

(I think)”

********

Okay. Here is my point, (If’n I have one):

How many y’all Google Map your old habiliments?

Trust me on this: Do NOT do it!

Peach out, (but save the square bales for me)

 

 

 

SEAL Training: Psych Eval

While stationed at Great Mistakes (Errrr…Great Lakes) Naval Training Command, I did my due diligence and qualified for BUD/s (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training in Coronado, California)

After passing the physical physical and clearing all the other stuff (mostly based upon my ASVAB scores and my ability to swim like a dolphin), A Final Task faced me: I had to pass unblemished through an interview with a psychiatrist. Just a formality, right? (Last hurdle: “Lance, do NOT fuck this up.”)

Sailor

Sailor Lance

This should be fun,” I recall thinking as I waited for my interview.

I was eventually summoned and sat my ass down in front of a geeky, mouse-eyed shrink. He obviously had ‘issues’ of his own. This I could discern straight-away from his limp-wristed demeanor. And obviously the only SEAL he had ever met was in some vain dream fantasy.

No matter. I was there just to get my ticket punched.

After a dozen or so stupid questions about such things as how did I feel about my mother, have I ever killed anything (Uh, do frogs count?), the price of tea in China, ad nauseam, he came to his pièce de résistance:

“Seaman Marcom,” he broached, “If you were ordered by your SEAL Team Leader to go in and clear a room whilst on a mission, and you burst into this room only to discover an elderly lady in a rocking chair reading a bible, what would you do?”

I waited for my dramatic pause, then said,

“Sir, I would shoot the bible.”*

Smiling, I observed him take his rubber stamp out and stamp “Approved” on my papers.

“California Here I Come”

Right Back Where I Started From

Video Credit: L. Heitmann via YouTube

https://www.youtube.com/user/IrRrIS1l3nt

*Footnote:

In the Nav, we have bombastic bullshit ‘tellings’, euphemistically known as ‘Sea Stories’. These are always introduced with the mandatory preamble:

“Now, this is a no-shitter…”

The above telling (though completely factual) is a wonderful example of same.

It’s Memorial Day Weekend: Go find yourself a Sailor and say, “Hey Sailor, New in Town?” Then hug him/her.

 

Memorial day is coming. We need to remember the Soldiers and our family.

Please take a few moments and read this.

johncoyote

HPNX1058

We need to stop and remember the people missed. Memorial day need to be a day of remembrance and thankfulness.

Shadows of war

A Story by Coyote Poetry

"

War can catch even the cold in heart.

"

Shadows

I was a Soldier for almost 15 years. I volunteered for every dangerous mission you could be part of. The missions were to Africa, Bosnian, Central and South America and Iraq. I had no fear of death. I have seen dead enemy soldiers and the poor innocent civilians in the way of hate and war. I wasn’t effected by war. I was raised in Detroit. I saw my first dead body at four years old.  I watched my uncle died. I was raised with the Vietnam war and body counts were part of my life. My father served in the Korean war and I volunteered for Vietnam at 17 year old. I learn…

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