honor

 the honorable three…

“Mine honour is my life, both grow in one.”  this quote from Shakespeare’s Richard II gives important insight into the iraqi culture.  a man’s facial hair, specifically his mustache, is a sign of honor, dignity, and wisdom.  hence, the intrepid members of team 19 have embarked upon a quest to “grow honor”, and our varying and sometimes downright comical attempts are hereby documented.  Magnum, P.I., eat your heart out. 

 first, the standard:           note the fullness of SFC Darby’s honor, and the knowing smirk on his face, acknowledging the depth of his dignity and wisdom.

and now, as a tribute to the greatest spaghetti western of all time, the good, the bad, and the ugly, i present:

the good (as modeled by CPT Ritchie):

   this is after only two days of growth.  noteworthy only because of the short time period.

  on day four, the honor is clearly outlined, and, more importantly, shows great potential for exponential increase in honor.

 the endstate of mustache #1, showing clear definition, careful tapering to the edge of the mouth, and the dazed, sleepy look that has become the standard classroom facial expression. 

the bad (as modeled by MSG Merrell):

 to be fair, this picture was taken after only two days of not shaving, although it would turn out to be prophetic…

 after four days of growth, MSG Merrell remained the “least honorable” of our group, and things would only go downhill from there.

 final picture of MSG Merrell, before he entered a cycle of shaving his honor whenever he became discouraged by it, despite assurances from the other team members that he looked “tough” and “hard-core”.  which assurances would have been more convincing if they had not been (very thinly) disguising outright laughter.

and finally,

the ugly (as modeled by me)

  me on day 2, with fairly significant shading already apparent, but this would prove to be my most impressive growth period, and my increases in honor would approach 0 quickly as the days wore on.

 day four and, while the angle of the sunlight and lack of resolution of the camera used would be cited as mitigating factors in the relative invisibility of my honor, i am a realist, and must own up to my relative lack of wisdom (although i still blew MSG Merrell out of the water).

  me attempting to fill out my honor on day 7 with artful blowing up of cheeks.  which only had the (highly undesirable) effect of making my honor look that much more insignificant by comparison.  lesson learned. 

Update:

CPT Ritchie soon found the growing of normal honor tiresome, and has since moved to mustache #2, to be displayed soon on these pages.

MSG Merrell remains in the vicious cycle of shaving and growing, in a desperate attempt to stimulate follicle growth.  i will continue to post pictures, but any picture of MSG Merrell from age 12 on would probably serve the same purpose. 

I am undeterred by the apparent plateau i have reached, and press grimly onward.  any comments about the 13 or 14 year old you saw at the mall with a better mustache are unwelcome, and will be deleted immediately without being displayed. 

cheers.  

PFC Sassy

CPT Crowley with pickle

so i guess now is as good a time as any to let you all know that i've been cheating on you.  but don't feel bad, because i'm not cheating with any run-of-the-mill gherkin here, but a true, dixieland original hot mama sassy pickle-in-a-bag.  now, setting aside the obvious question (why the hell would you ever put a pickle in a bag of brine and sell it at the shoppette), i can tell you all that PFC (private first class) Sassy has now been with us for about a month or so, and has dutifully attended all mandatory training, with a smile on her briney, ever-murkier face.  not to be confused with the Pickelhaube, a Prussian helmet popular in the 19th century, Sassy is a high-heel wearin', purse-carryin', earring-sportin', lipstick smearin' taste of the south. (her lipstick, not mine). now, pickles in other countries can be packaged with cauliflower, onions, and other dilutions, but PFC Sassy is 100% pure-bred, grown naturally in the verdant hills of northeastern west virginia.  PFC Sassy traces her proud heritage back 4400 years to the Mesopotamians, who first epiphanized that a cucumber could be pickled.  sassy at BFT (blue force tracker) and CLS (combat lifesaver)

 having Sassy around has definitely raised a few eyebrows, but most have accepted her as one of us, and as long as no one makes her an after-lunch snack during a long day of powerpoint slide presentations (a prospect that becomes more remote in direct proportion with the ever-increasing murkiness of the brine), she will accept them as well. 

 we did survive a bit of a scare early in our relationship with Sassy, as she didn't seem to be handling the more rigorous training events with the grace and dignity we expected from a cucumber of her pedigree.  fortunately, a roll of 100 mph tape was close at hand, and after some careful reinforcement, Sassy was ready for Ft. Riley, and, dare i say it, Iraq. 

 stay tuned for more stories of five men and their pickle, and the love that threatens to tear them apart.  coming to a theater near you.