Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Greetings from the DMZ

Great Reader KIM Jong Il reporting froms the DMZ here to all of you, my gloriously literate readers, and I'm haves great news! Comrade Tammi of Tammi's World got the J.O.B.!!! So preez assist me in giving big round of appause (applause) to Tammi on fighting the good fight and flooding the corporate capitalistic pig's offices with resumes! May those who did not hire her have such not-so-hot-luck that they will be forced into laboring at a McDonald's burger factory turning out chicken McNuggets for the masses.
Also on the home front...JihadGene has had two spies shipped in from South Korea the day after Christmas on 26 Dec!!!These scoundrels were sent to Gene from his brother-in-law and best friend in da ho-wide-world, Mr U Tae KIM . These spies are named Ji Na KIM and Woong Jae KIM. Both are young adults in their 20's and consume kimchee and rice. They are a brother and sister act. They have lap tops and all kinds of crap for communications with evil family in South Korea. Gene bought lap top for Yobo (wife) and has wireless hub! Woo-hoo!!! Computers all over the house!!! Where's was I? Oh yeah... Gene and family loves Jina & Jae looong time and is very busy having a very great time with them! Tomorrow...New Year's Day...JihadGene and family go to Monterey Bay and will have a wonderful time while I am stuck here in Pyongyang. Being a DickTater with nukes can have it's disadvantages. Later Gator's!

Have "Happy" not "Crappy" New Year!!!
Great Reader KIM Jong IL
On the DMZ in California

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Love American VS Korean Style #14

In the beginning...
In Part 1- I met the girl I would marry. Her name is Kim. Love at 1st sight (for me, anyway).
In Part 2- I spent what money I had to set up a birthday party that would put me with Kim.
In Part 3- Kim gets puked on by drunk Birthday Boy. Kim leaves. I am miserable.
In Part 4- Korean Grandmothers (Shaman) take pity on me. We Kamikaze in a taxi to Kim's.
In Part 5- I survive the taxi ride. The Grandmothers tell me they will fix all. I must return to base. I can't beat the midnight curfew but I damn sure try.
In Part 6- Suicide ride on a bus bumper. Crash. Injuries and more. Concussion too! Police chase. Escape & Evade.
In Part 7- Climb a telephone pole. Steal a bike with one wheel. Make my Great Escape.
In Part 8- Ride bike into a Banjo-Ditch (sewage). Another concussion. I crawl out and am captured by the ROK Army, then returned to base.
In Part 9- Medical treatment at 0130 hours. AM meeting with Military Police 1SG Black Thunder Johnson. Made an Ambassador to South Korea. Run to Motor Pool.
In Part 10- Bicycle recovered. I fall into the banjo ditch. 1SG YOON/1SG Johnson/Me and the Korean Grandfather have a Pow-wow. Intercultural relations rebuilt. Valuable lessons learned.
In Part 11- The First Sergeants have a meeting. I am cleaned up at a ROK Army wash point. We go to Kim's. I am Elvis, to the Korean Grandmothers. I SEE KIM! We are returning to base.
In Part 12- I return to Camp with the First Sergeant's, jeep, and bicycle. My squad members, the house boys, and I.... all ponder my fate. We break for chow (lunch). I opt for a nap and am awoken by my Squad leader SSG OLY. Intro to Staff Sergeant Oly (The Big "O") and the infamous Three Beeps. Time has come...I head for the orderly room.
In Part 13- I report to the orderly room. My fate is sealed until the next day when I must report back to the First Sergeant with my Squad Leader. I am re-directed to the unit supply room and meet Sergeant James Wheeler.

As we last left off...Sgt James (Wheeler-Dealer) Wheeler is taking me and the infamous one-wheeled battered banjo-ditch bicycle to to an orphanage in Pusan, South Korea. Jimmy is a handsome Amerasian who looks totally Korean when wearing sunglasses to cover up those blue eyes of his. He used the "A" word on me again....Ambassador. Well we loaded up the bike in a jeep trailer and headed out the main gate of Camp Hialeah. Driving in Korea is kinda crazy and Sgt Wheeler drives like an expert... after all, he is from Brooklyn and when he speaks English he is every bit a New Yorker. How he speaks perfect Korean without that accent, is beyond me. We're driving through several traffic circles and eventually hit a kind of industrial area. Jimmy pulls up to a junk yard. I asked what are we doing at a junk yard and Jimmy says it's for the bike. He explains to me that while the bike is useless it is still worth something and with whatever we can get for the bike we can buy stuff for the orphanage. Jimmy says, "Cool, huh"?! I said, "It makes sense to me, but what can the orphanage use?". Sgt James Wheeler just smiled at me and said, "You really don't know? You'll see." Jimmy sold the bike to a rough looking middle-aged Korean man dressed in dirty coveralls. Regardless of race, someone who owns a salvage or junk yard is always dressed for the part with strong dirty hands from hard work, crow footed eyes, a heavily lined face from working in the sun, and a cigarette in his mouth with a long ash on it. This man was all of that. Sgt Wheeler got 1,500 Won for it, about $3 US, back in 1975. We drove a few blocks over to a corner Mom & Pop grocery store. It was like a Lee Chong's Heavenly Flower Grocery in the book Cannery Row, a place where... as John Steinbeck put it... "The grocery opened at dawn and did not close until the last wandering vagrant dime had been spent or retired for the night. Not that Lee Chong was avaricious. He wasn't, but if one wanted to spend money, he was available." That pretty much sums up a Korean merchant. Hard working and never a day off. The little store was stuffed to the gills with inventory. I was amazed at all the stuff inside! They had cheap toys, pens, pencils, paper, Napa cabbage, Mi-Won (MSG), salt, long green onions, giant radishes, candies, ice cream, cuttle fish flavored snacks, candles, matches, pots & pans, crushed red peppers, blankets, little outdoor cook stoves with butane bottles, shower sandals, soaps, false eye lashes (?), cigarettes, beer, wine, soda, nasty Korean booze called Jinro and Soju, and Samyang ramen. The place had it all! The grocery store Pop was sittin' on the floor watching a little black & white GoldstarTV set that had sports on. He smiled broadly and rose as Jimmy and I entered. His little boy, a four or five year old who sat with him jumped up, pointed at me, and exclaimed "Me Kuk Saw-rahm"! The little boy was cute as a button and he kept pointing at me saying "American person" (Me Kuk Saw-rahm). I guess they didn't get many, if any, GI's out this way. I was pretty much a space alien in this part of Pusan, South Korea. The little boy's mouth hung wide-open when I spoke Korean to him. This Ambassador stuff could be cool. Sgt Wheeler bought a bunch of stuff. More than 10 recycled bicycles could ever buy. Amerasian James Wheeler glowed as he whipped out about $40 in Korean funny-money, as GI's called it. Purchases made and off we went.
As we pulled up to the cold gray cement walls of the orphanage Jimmy hit the siren on the jeep. A "hue and cry" of pure excitement and joy went up behind those walls like I'd never heard before. I could hear children's voices yelling happily "Jim Eee...Jim Eee"...and into the orphanage we went. In there I saw Tiny Tim's and Tiny Kim's of ages 5 thru 12 maybe. Now I knew, for absolute certain, why Jimmy Wheeler glowed on the outside. Call it a higher power or maybe the forces of good but James Wheeler had love for those kids in his heart. There was no hiding it! I don't know what Jimmy's story is or how he came to be this Saint Nicholas of the Pusan Orphanage, but this guy was Santa. A real life Santa Claus of a Christian who didn't talk all bible and God stuff, like so many Christians but he spoke of love, sprinkled with a guy named Jesus. He was a sower of seed, he was. James walked the walk like none-other I have met. I saw some shy and sad-case kids there in that orphanage, but they too glowed when held in the loving arms of Sgt Wheeler. Good begets good...this I know. The Buddhists know this too...
Not to do any evil, to cultivate good, to purify one's mind--this is the
teaching of the Buddhas.

Buddhism. Dhammapada 183
Merry Christmas to all! JG & Family

Monday, December 22, 2008

The Rest of the Story

Moron (more on ) STOOOPID. Seems our Valued Customer "was" out on parole. Imagine that? Our "Person of Interest" has 2 prior felony convictions, one of which is for robbery. The other probably for just being felony ugly in public. I made a really nice CD of "Santa's Helper" recorded on our store's cameras. The cops loved it and told me the D.A. will too. I wonder what they'll be serving up in the state prison for Christmas dinner? Will it be corn dogs... or the weiner? Merry Christmas!

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Merry Christmas STOOOPID!!!

That's right folks... Santa came early this year to our Mom 'n Pop Gangbanger & Urbanwear Clothing Store in the form of about 5 black & whites (cop cars) and 6 bored Police Officers. In our town the one time you do not want to steal anything out of our store is on a Sunday at 12 noon. You see, the local Cops are really bored on the Sunday day-shift because most of the punk-ass criminals (some of which are my highly valued customers) who were up to no good on Saturday night/early Sunday morning are already in jail...or in the hospital, or still asleep, or are found dead in some orchard or vineyard. That's how I see it, anyway. What I'm saying here is that the Police Officers in our town have a slow shift on Sundays until it gets dark, if even then.
So into our lovely mercantile (ghetto store) walks a valued customer, also known as a piece of shit, who has previously stolen some clothing from us, and he runs out the door with another bargain. The wife and I are off on Sunday and have good employee's who take care of things when we're gone. Sooo...Mr Valued Customer walks in for some last-weekend-before-Christmas-shoplifting, grabs an Oakland Raider Jacket (stinkin' Raider's), valued at $165 retail, and commences to run out the door almost trampling over one of our clerks. Mr Valued customer is 18 or 19 years of age and is in good "running shape" as he has no car, nor a bicycle, nor even a skateboard to make his get-away on...the poor soul. Now, not only do you "not" want to steal stuff on any given Sunday from my store, in my town, but you damn sure don't want to do it at around 12 noon on a Sunday if you live across the railroad tracks from the place where you just stole the shit from. Seems that at noon on Sunday's there's always a good and long Southern Pacific freight train that runs by our store about then, just like clock-work. I used to hate those trains until now. I don't know, call it dumb luck or Murphy's law, or perhaps our valued customer (thief) was not aware of the time... but as he makes his run for home, the freight train is making it's run, headed towards Bakersfield. My employees see that our valued customer (dirt bag) and "penny-wise shopper" has run parallel to the train tracks (now occupied by the train) and he seems a bit discouraged. Aww...sweet youth... he runs on! Yes, he runs on, on, and ON! He runs on right past a police car at the nearby train station, just when the Officer in the car is receiving the call from Dispatch about the theft. The thief runs. The Officer wisely gives chase in his police car and promptly radio's for other bored police officer's in the area (happily most just so happen to be on this side of the tracks) to assist in the apprehension of our valued customer, now known in main stream media circles as... "A Person of Interest". Our valued customer and "bargain hunter" is throwing off pieces of clothing to "change his appearance" but hangs on to the highly prized Oakland Raider's Official NFL jacket. He jumps over a back yard fence, and another fence, and yet another fence, until he finds himself alone in the back yard of a "a lover of large dog's". Apparently our valued customer is no lover of Rottweiler's and was about to be eatin' alive. Ooooh, sweet youth. Our valued customer-turned-athlete hurdled a six foot fence with my store's Oakland jacket into the waiting arms of the police. Gee I wonder if he will get to see the Raider's VS Houston game in jail this afternoon? Thanks Santa!!! (Cops too!!!)

Did You Miss This?

It's no secret that JihadGene and Son love LOOONG time WWE wrestling. It's something that drive's the wife ape-shit, but we LOVE it! WWE's Tribute to the Troops was on last night. Remember our troops and their families this Christmas season. Thank them any way you can. You'll be blessed. Here's a clip from last night's presentation...

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Glowball Warming and KIM Jong Il

Here's a cold-blast from the past (December 2007) via Black Five's own "Kev" and "Uncle Jimbo". Preez see video before reading further. I odor you!

Now preez read Great Reader's take on the video...

Meanwhile somewhere north of the DMZ, in the Land 'O Frozen Koon-Dingies, we find DPRK's Great Reader, KIM JONG IL, making an astute observation...

KIM- Hey, General Wang!

WANG- What up, Bigg BlossMan?

KIM- Check out "Cousin Kev's" bideo on glow-ball warning!

KIM & WANG- BWAAHahahahahaha!

WANG- Dat good one all light!

KIM- Own-ree one ting I'm doo

WANG- What dat, Most Meteorological One?

KIM- I'm put NBSeize "Today Show" star reporter, Michelle Kosinski, rowing by in a fluckin canoe!

WANG & KIM- BWAHAHahaha!!!

KIM- Wang, put a-nudder clopy of Al Goes book
"An Inclunvienient Troof" on da fire...ass of Great Reader colder than the body tempatyour of Harry Reid.

WANG- Does that flucker even have a pulse?

Great Reader KIM Jong IL Surfaces

After an extended Tank's-giving vacation on the DMZ, Great and Glorious Reader, KIM Jong IL is back to work and firing like a Chevy Vega station's wagon on all 2 & 1/2 cylinders! Those Souf Koreans, the lowly lackey's of the not-so-great Satan, George W. Bloosh, have dismissed the DPRK's latest photographic evidence of Norf Korea's Great Reader as "boo shit" and "not even real"! The audacity displayed by the Souf Koreans who long for a home in Crawford, Texass will not go unnoticed by our Dear and Healthy Great Reader, KIM Jong IL! Pictured is the Great Reader playing with his "new and improved" and "nuclear-enhanced" Norf Korean Mastiff named "Fluffy".

Friday, December 19, 2008

"W" and KIM Jong IL Xmas Special

Shiiiit! Well...tis the season for "bail out's" and crap...
Bush Christmas Special: Special Guest Kim Jong Il

It's Friday! Let's Dance!!!

JihadGene here...well what with the MSM still showing the Iraqi "Winger 'O Wingtips".... Yes, that "Thrower of Tony Llamas"....the "Flinger of Flagg Brothers"...I have been inspired to play a song by KC and the Sunshine Band. Enjoy, cause it's Friday! Let's dance with the GREAT READER!!!

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Praise Allah! It's a Fisher Price Doll

Hello, my most consumer-wise Infidels. It is I, Baghdad Bob's son...Abdul-Jalil, here. I am late to the Rodeo on this but "Tis the Season". Though you are considered as unclean as any politician to have ever come out of that stinking onion called Chicago, I will have a little mercy on you pigs, none-the-less. We, in the land of Saddam Obamadam Hussein (see, I can use his middle name now) send courteous holiday shoppers greetings to you jewel-encrusted swine! It has come to my attention (Praise be to Allah) that our "Allies in Jihad" at Fisher-Price Toys has made the perfect holiday gift for little girls worldwide or confused little boys. It is a doll-baby approved by none other than my main-man Saddamma Obamma Hussein! He has officially named the doll Dirka-Dirka. The doll-baby says such adorable things! There are three tracks programmed into this Dirka Dirka doll. The first is baby banter. Oh, I love banter, don't you? The second is baby banter with flatulence and "mommy" sounds mixed in. Farting at women?Praise all that is Holy! I love it!!! The third is a longer track that ends abruptly, has two or three seconds of silence, and then the "Islam is the Light" sound comes through, as part of the third track. Does this not make you unbelievers want to trample over the dead remains of the clerks at your local Walmart or what? You bargain hunting zealots! Now if we can only get the doll to throw her shoes. Perhaps next year. I must go now. On to victory... against the Great Satan's of this world! Merry Christmas and remember that the lubing of a zillion camels begins with a single hose down!
*hat tip Sherri (ya Diva you!)

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Baghdad Bob's Person of the Year

Season's Greetings, you infidels! First off, praise Allah, this is not Time magazine and I have never heard of them, so only I, Baghdad Bob, do this Person of the Year shtick! Islamically
pork-munching-puppet's-of-Satan..there is but one, and only one choice, who is Allah approved and doing "His" work in Middle-Eastern journalism. So without further adieu, I give you Iraq's very own "winger of Wingtip's"... that "Nike knuckle-baller" of the Green Zone...Muntadhar al-Zeidi. It was also Muntadhar al-Zeidi who muttered the immortal words...when tossing the Dr Scholls, "This is a farewell kiss, you dog"!
*I know I should have picked Saddam Hussein again this year but the MSM has been really pushing hard for this dude and besides...I don't hang much with Saddam these days.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Tuesday, Witches, and the Hairy Eyeball

My friend Maeve, a Witch, speaks of giving the Hairy Eyeball to a few students she works with at times. Now, while I have never seen the Hairy Eyeball, I have heard about it. I believe it to be about a good 8 foot in diameter with hair all around it...but not covering the eyeball's view or it's horrible looking blood shottyness. A 5 gallon bucket of Visine wouldn't get that red out...or so I've heard. If the Hairy Eyeball wore contacts they would have to be as big as a cowboy's belt buckle , or a garbage can lid, whichever is larger. Woe unto those "tester's of teacher's"...those who try to "train the trainer's", when dealing with Maeve. Maeve once gave me the Hairy Eyeball in the comments section of her blog. For that, our entire Central Valley was enveloped in fog for a whole frickin week (as usual, this time of year). I'm sure that even now as I post this, there are Flyin' Monkeys coming over the I-5 grapevine headed northbound for my blasphemous big white ass. I would type more but I just spilled hot coffee, heated to the old (pre-burn court case) McDonalds temperature of 20,000 degrees Fahrenheit, all over my crotch! Damn it, Jim! I've had enough of this crap (fog & piss poor luck) ! Maeve, bring on those monkey's. I'm dealin' them punks out'ta the game with some double-ought monkey butt shot! In the name of Remington 12 gauges...Die you Monkies! Die! TAKE THAT!...That's right, that's how we do it in my neighborhood, bitches! And take Microsoft and Kim Komando with you!!! was your day? I got to get ready for work. C ya!

Monday, December 15, 2008

Store E Tales

Sometimes shit happens that is just too good to be made up. So's... I'm working at our Mom 'n Pop gang-banger/urbanwear clothing store when two African-American girls walk in. I am axed (asked) where's the Obama T shirts for girls? Yes, I sell them...and for guys too. No, I didn't vote for the guy but I will make some $ off him if I can before he gets it all back in tax dollars. Anyway...I show the girls several to choose from. They like 'em fine till they see one style of T shirt I have pictured with Barack and his wife, Michele Obama, on it. Upon seeing Michele's picture on the shirt one of the girls exclaims, "What's that bitch's mugg doin' on there"?! I never tried so hard in all my life to keep from laughing! Retailing in da's a living. JG ;)

Bite Me B.J.!

PRAISE ALLAH and get 'em while they're hot (or not)! But it is FREE! That means GRATIS for you non Engrish speaking Mexicans out there! K-Tel Records & 8 Track Tapes proudly presents Billy Joel's (B.J.'s) very own sure-to-be-a-bomb/HIT-PIECE on the US military, titled "CHRISTMAS IN FALLUJAH"! Did I tell ya it's FREE! Free?...Right there speaks volumes. Hey, I may be a lowly goat herder but I know enough to know when someone's beggin'. Here's some of his lyrics...




*And the same SPIRIT OF GOODWILL... please rise and sing to washed up has-been Billy Joel, with GREAT READER and JIHADGENE, an old U.S. Armed Forces Hymn.....


(softly) Him

(louder, now) HIM


**Praise be to Greyhawk for his piece on BJ's song.

Friday, December 12, 2008

It's Friday! Let's Dance!!!

Do you need a bail-out? Hell, everyone does. It's a "The Year" 2,000 + eight, kinda thang. No need to feel bad just because the Congress and Senate aren't gonna do a darn thing for you. Sooo... Think good things! Think good things like "OTHER DOG". I RUV'S LOOONG TIME my Other Dog! He came to us from Korea via my niece (on the wife's side 'o the familia). He's a SHIT-ZU! I know the proper name and spelling. Yes... and that they are a Chinese breed, but Other Dog came to me via S.Korea and poops... so deal with it, please. Anyway the Niece moved into an apartment up near San Francisco and Other Dog was miserable. He missed Booger Butt (my Westie). Other Dog was a pup and Booger Butt was middle-aged in people years, back then. I guess even old Booger Butt kind'a missed him when she wasn't busy napping. While Booger Butt sleeps and dreams of the Gulf Coast, gumbo, crayfish, and the bayou.... me and Other Dog are dancin' up a storm to some Cajun music. Now pick up your pup... or a human... or a stuffed animal... and dance with us to some Horace Trahan doing the "Poor Man 2 Step"! It's Friday..Let's dance!!!

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Merry Christmas to Our Valued Customers!

The wife is in L.A. buying more inventory for our Mom 'n Pop Gang-Banger Clothing Store.... Do you want a RED or BLUE rag with that? Merry Christmas to all you little Nortenos XIV and Surenos XIII out there. Got mostly (on the African-American side) CRIPS here, since we are closer to L.A. and the state prisons, so blue rags for those Homies this Holiday Season. Merry Christmas to many of my good customers who I haven't seen for a while (in lock-up) ! May you parole and spend your "gate money" here, with Kim & JihadGene! Tis the season! Hoe, Hoe, Hoe! It's a living.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Nancy Pelosi and Advice From My Dad

House Speaker Nancy Pelosi , D-Ca ... "We call this a barber shop: everyone's getting a hair cut".

*My Dad always told me to steer clear of clip joints. My Dad's advice lives on. JG

Monday, December 8, 2008

Great Reader KIM Jong IL's Request for a Bail-Out

FRUMS:KIM Jong IL, Great Reader of Norf Korea

DATE: Fruckin Monday


Merry Chipmunks (Christmas) to all! Dat's white! It is me, Great Reader...KIM Jong IL. Exciting as being on Oprah...huh? U knows it! Anyways, I'm hurtin like a homeless person without $, moo-lah, dinero, won, yen, deutsche marks, etc., for booze, smokes, or a fix out here in Norf Korea! Howze about kickin down with sum foldin' money for Great Reader KIM Jong IL? Don't be a bunch of SCREWED YA's (Scrooges)!!! I need cash money for my new line 'O autos-mobile! Check out my newest line of fine rides,like the All-New SCUD F-150 Megla-Ton, "FLOORED EXPLODER"! This baybee comes comprete with a windshield and pillow! For any Democratic patriot/stupid ass, who watches Oprah, or anyone who has ever owned a Ford Pinto, KIM Jong IL will throw in the rear windshield absolutely free! That's GRATIS for you mexican speakers of Engrish!It's PIMP CITY! Now I knows that HIP-HOP RAPPER dude LUDACRIS ruv's OBAMA long time, so I's have named a special model after him, we call it the "PIECE OF CRIS"! Redesigned after the trusty oil-leaking Dodge Neon (Piece of Shit) it will be a sure-fire (or sure to catch-fire) hit in North America! I talked to some Homies/Terrorists in OPEC and they ruved it looong time! In South Korea they have a brand of tires called HanKook but I'm haves you know that in the most glorious land of Norf Korea we have loaded this baby up with a complete set of 8 inch (or 20cm) quality KIM-HOE tires! That's right! KIM HOE'S, BABY!!! Guaranteed for 100,000 miles or 2km (whichever cums first)! Yeah I know, but they still beat the shit out of General tires, Firestone's, or Goodyear's any day of the weak (yeah...weak)!!!

Give Generously...your tax dollars to:
Great Reader KIM Jong IL and the PAAW-U (People's Asshole Auto Workers-Union).

Friday, December 5, 2008

It's Friday! Let's Dance!!!

Did you know the Army-Navy game is tomorrow? Well in honor of the Great Reader's reader, Deltabravo (Navy), and superior blogger Eric (Marine), I have a song...and not just any song to dance to... this fine Friday. Oooh nooO! It's a sailor's song with dance preformed by Marines! So in the spirit of good sportsmanship I give you my version of "The Navy Hymn". Now get up from those chairs and dance a hearty sea-farin' jig with the Great Reader! It's Friday! Let's dance!!!JG ;)

Thursday, December 4, 2008

And Now...A Cat Tale

Sometimes someone posts a comment that is too good just to be left behind in the comments section. Lady's and Gentlemen, Great Reader gives you...

A Cat Tale (or this ain't Felix) by deltabravo

Pets are great. We had a cat once. He was a golden striped long-haired Maine Coon. Proto-cat. There was never a cat better. He could hunt and catch and skin a squirrel. He'd leave their pelts at our doorstep as gifts. He would ride around on our shoulders like a golden parrot. He was people.

Cats didn't get much better than him. So being young and foolish, I thought all yellow striped cats were good. So I went to a pet store and picked a stripey yellow kitten out of the basket. (Note, it turns out yellow striped cats are the sociopaths of the cat world. They are the cat most likely to have to be pulled out of a tree by firemen. They could climb down themselves, but it's more fun to make the big red truck come out and inconvenience everyone.)

Long story short, this cat was a nutburger. It would steal stuffed animals off of sister's bed and drag it under the bed like a kill, making growly noises all the way. Just because.

A couple years later my youngest sister brought home another yellow stripey kitten. It was her gift from her boyfriend. Mom cried. Now I know why. She knew that boyfriend and daughter would be long gone and she'd still have CrazyAss StripeyCat tearing away at her antique sofa and walls and running inside the front door and demanding to be let out the back door 20 times a day for years after. One day about 13 years later the vet told my mom the cat was insane and gave her permission to put it out of its misery.

To this day I refuse to let teenagers in my house bring small furry things home. My crazy cat and moron dog are enough.

Well, back to Nutburger. For hobbies, he'd take down CrazyAss StripeyCat several times a day, wrestling him to the ground like a lion takes down a wildebeest. Just because.

He'd yowl for no reason. He was unpleasant and lacked the affection gene. And he never died. We began to refer to him as Methuseleh.

The grandkids came along over the years, arriving long after he should have died. They knew to fear him. Babies would go to pet him and get scratched. Just because.

They called him "That Mean Scary Cat" and "That Icky Old Cat." Eventually he looked like Bill the Cat, but without the necktie or the sense of humor.

He'd disappear at night and not eat his food. Mom grew hopeful that he might be dying. Nope. After several months, a neighbor came over to complain. Seems she finally traced his path back to the old homestead. He had been going over to her house down the street and letting himself in the pet door and eating her cat's food. Probably drinking the old man's beer and using their cat box too.

How do you tell Methuseleh he's not welcome to let himself into the neighbor's home and eat their cat food?

And what kind of wimp cats did they have that they couldn't kick a 15 year old cat's rickety ass?

He'd probably take them down like a wildebeest.

Yeah, eventually he died. Just because.

So that's my story of pets who let themselves into neighbors' houses.


Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Booger Butt and the Wong's

We live in a nice neighborhood. Quiet...peaceful.Meet our neighbors across the street. Jerry and Susan Wong. They are restaurateurs. Very well known and respected in town. Their people founded the town. Chinese people who built the railroads. They are salt of the earth. Susan was Miss Hong Kong 1950 or 60 something. Jerry is older by 15 or more years. They have been married many years. They have no kids. No pets. They are highly respectable and prominent people. They have art works from Paris, some of which are of more value than their lovely home. They are a refined couple. One would never put their elbows on the table if eating at the Wong's.
Etiquette is the Gospel in their home and rightly so. One's home is one's castle. Everything has it's place. If nowhere else in the world, Feng Shui is found in this house.
I have a dog, a West Highland Terrier, called Booger Butt. She is 8 people-years old now, though she has slowed down as of late, she once was a rebel. A rebel with a zeal for life and high adventure! She's a spirited dog. A real independent thinker-stinker of a dog.
Let's go back to the year 2000 and Booger Butt is 6 months old. Booger Butt is full-on into her growing puppy status and is developing quickly. If she can get out the front door, she will bolt. It's her thing. Then she runs down the street having a great time, doing whatever the hell she wants, refusing to come back to me, and no matter how sweetly I call her...she ain't buyin' it. It took a while but I figured her out. I finally figured out that if I scolded her by saying stuff like "Ya heathenistic flea bitten rotten dog! Ya pointy-eared Science Diet munching pig! You're gonna burn in a lake O' fire if you don't get your AKC registered booty home right now! You're gonna burn in hell alright...rubbing your butt on the Devil's carpet tryin to put your smoking ass out like a cigarette in an ashtray! Oh... I guess I could of just said, "Bad dog", and she'd a come running for home, but that ain't me. Oh well, one early morning my wife (Kim) opens the front door and Booger Butt bails. She runs across the street to the Wong's. Now why-oh-why did Jerry Wong have to come out of his front door at that particular time to get his morning newspaper... I'll never know. Maybe it was just Chinese joss (luck) or perhaps Booger Butt was a Chinese Foo Dog in a previous life. Regardless, Booger Butt had turned-and-burned like a little doggie jet fighter headed directly between the legs of the elderly Jerry who was bent- over, about to pick up the paper. Kim too was running , in hot pursuit of Booger Butt, and heard Jerry GASP! Now Booger Butt had compromised the safety and security of the Wong's pet & kid free zoned home. I don't know how she did it, but quicker than a Korean can count to 4 (one Mrs Shippy...two Mrs Shippy...etc) Booger Butt found Susan Wong's bed in that big old house, with Susan fast asleep in it. Booger Butt then jumped up on the bed and began licking Susan Wong's face. Before Jerry Wong and Kim even entered that puppy-penetrated doorway, Susan began to scream! YAAAAAAAAA! And then I think she began saying some kind of Chinese curse words between yelling YAAAAAAAAA! at the top of her lungs. Poor Susan. I think she had never uttered a bad word in her life until that cold nosed and pink tongued morning. Kim apologized profusely and Susan Wong, classy lady that she was, quickly pulled herself together and said, "You have a very friendly dog".

Message to Wall Street

What? Need I say more? Okay. I will.
Jump and take the Congress and Senate with you! JG
Thanks to Liquid Illuzion for the photo I ripped it from.
Liquid is AWESOME!

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

You Learn Something New Everyday

According to the Dissident Frogman... urine from a male (only) acts as a repellent for bears. Back in early 1995 the wife got me a "Made in Mexico" leather Jacket and I don't recall being attacked by any bears... while wearing it. So I, JihadGene, have reached a logical conclusion. My jacket must contain a Mexican male urine-based tanning solution! It is a wonderful jacket but whatever you do... do not wear it in the rain. JG ;)

Author's note- Don't tell the wife I clowned her or I'll come over to your house and protect you from bears!

Monday, December 1, 2008

God Love Him, CPT Rob Yllescas

I'm so sorry but this news completely sucks, and if you don't know, then I'll tell you...
Cpt Rob Yllescas has died today, Monday, 1 December 2008. Our prayers continue. Our sorrow genuine. Prayers needed. No comments are allowed on this post. Messages of support should go here. Thanks-JG

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Love American VS Korean Style#13

In the beginning...
In Part 1- I met the girl I would marry. Her name is Kim. Love at 1st sight (for me, anyway).
In Part 2- I spent what money I had to set up a birthday party that would put me with Kim.
In Part 3- Kim gets puked on by drunk Birthday Boy. Kim leaves. I am miserable.
In Part 4- Korean Grandmothers (Shaman) take pity on me. We Kamikaze in a taxi to Kim's.
In Part 5- I survive the taxi ride. The Grandmothers tell me they will fix all. I must return to base. I can't beat the midnight curfew but I damn sure try.
In Part 6- Suicide ride on a bus bumper. Crash. Injuries and more. Concussion too! Police chase. Escape & Evade.
In Part 7- Climb a telephone pole. Steal a bike with one wheel. Make my Great Escape.
In Part 8- Ride bike into a Banjo-Ditch (sewage). Another concussion. I crawl out and am captured by the ROK Army, then returned to base.
In Part 9- Medical treatment at 0130 hours. AM meeting with Military Police 1SG Black Thunder Johnson. Made an Ambassador to South Korea. Run to Motor Pool.
In Part 10- Bicycle recovered. I fall into the banjo ditch. 1SG YOON/1SG Johnson/Me and the Korean Grandfather have a Pow-wow. Intercultural relations rebuilt. Valuable lessons learned.
In Part 11- The First Sergeants have a meeting. I am cleaned up at a ROK Army wash point. We go to Kim's. I am Elvis, to the Korean Grandmothers. I SEE KIM! We are returning to base.
In Part 12- I return to Camp with the First Sergeant's, jeep, and bicycle. My squad members, the house boys, and I.... all ponder my fate. We break for chow (lunch). I opt for a nap and am awoken by my Squad leader SSG OLY. Intro to Staff Sergeant Oly (The Big "O") and the infamous Three Beeps. Time has come...I head for the orderly room.

With a fresh crisp uniform on and newly shined boots I walk into my M.P. company orderly room. I feel like shit but my uniform looks good. My forehead has three stitches but at least the bumps on my head have gone down. My ankle only throbs a little compared to my head. I think of the girl I've gone through all this for and do a re-evaluation of my actions. I am 20 years old and Kim is the prettiest girl I've ever seen...just as I'd thought...SHE WAS WORTH ALL OF THIS! I was told to take a seat and wait for the First Sergeant to see me. All eyes of the orderly room clerks were on me. They typed, worked quietly, and watched me closely. I would catch them looking at me and they would quickly snap their heads away from my eyes. I was a dead man. I knew it. No one smiled at me or talked to me, though we all knew each other rather well. Then the C.O. entered the building and someone yelled "ATTENTION"! I rose quickly and assumed the position of attention. I still looked sharp and greatly respected my company commander, CPT Royce "Nash" Rambler. He was a West Point grad, an Airborne qualified Infantry Platoon Leader who served in Vietnam, and he was a fine man. Like First Sergeant B. T. (Black Thunder) Johnson, he was a professional soldier who cared about his troops. A man's man. If he wasn't a natural born leader then there was none. Inside, I felt a bit ashamed that I had let him down. It's like letting down your Dad, if ya know what I mean. That's how it was with my C.O. and my First Sergeant. You didn't want to let them down. Cpt Rambler called "at ease" and life went on back to normal in the orderly room. Then Cpt Rambler approached me, looked me dead in the eye and said, "Jihad, was she worth it"? I answered she was. He smiled slightly and said to me, "I can tell you believe that. That's good." He turned and walked away. Someone called my name. I was told by a clerk in the office that the First Sergeant had just called and would see me with my Squad Leader, Staff Sergeant Oly, at 1400hrs (2 PM) , tomorrow. That was two hours before I was to work my shift (swing shift 1600-2400) with my squad, lead by SSG Oly as M.P. Patrol Supervisor. In the meantime I was told to see to the unit Supply Sergeant about the bicycle.

I entered the supply room and there is Sgt Wheeler going over supply documents. Sgt Wheeler is Amerasian and known as "Wheeler-Dealer". He is as sharp as any operating room scalpel and he looks Korean, except for a pair of handsome blue eyes that I wish I would of had. Sgt Wheeler worked with the Army CID up north in Seoul making many a drug bust and was now laying down low, here in Pusan, for the time being. The guy spoke fluent Korean (like his Mom) and when he spoke English, he did it with a Brooklyn accent (like his Dad). It was something truly to behold. The guy had his shit together and was on the fast track to making Staff Sergeant. He was a natural at anything he did. I think in Korea he worked harder than anyone I had ever see, the Korean people were not nice to Amerasians. They were made fun of and scorned, because they looked different. When they were babies they were cute, but as they developed and their western features became more apparent, they were ridiculed and shamed the families they came from. Many ended up in orphanages or on the street. It sucks. It may not be so bad now, but it was that way then, back in March 1975. I think it's because of guys like Sgt James Wheeler that the tide has turned in Korea and Amerasians are no longer looked down upon. Sporting a pair of dark sunglasses, Sgt Wheeler could look and act like a Korean's Korean but once you talked with him you knew he was as much of an American as any New York Mets or Yankees fan. He was a class act who could, and would, do whatever it took to get the job done. Like my 1SG and Captain, Sgt Wheeler was a role model. We talked. I helped dust shelves and moved inventory. Sgt Wheeler laughed with me at my story and about the bicycle. He seemed truly concerned for my well-being as I was favoring my ribs and sprained ankle. He was a good listener and not one to mock others. Call it his beside manner, I'll just call him a wonderful human being. The Doctor Phil's of this world could learn much from James Wheeler, Brooklyn accent and all. Sgt Wheeler asked if I was going to marry the girl I had gone thru Hell for? I said, "Hell, I can't even get a date with her." Jimmy asked me if I knew why I was sent here to the supply room. I said, "Well, the bike's I guess it must be about the bicycle, huh"? Jimmy told me it was not all about the bicycle but also about being a good citizen. A good Ambasador. "Oh shit, Sergeant! You've been talking Top.", I said. Jimmy smiled and shook his head yes. It was about the bicycle and more. Seems we were taking a little jeep ride with the battered bicycle. Our destination... a South Korean orphanage. (To Be Continued)

Friday, November 28, 2008

It's Friday! Let's Dance!

It's Black Friday folks! So let those fools rush into Wal Marts across the USA! Let's dance!!!

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

KIM Jong IL on Turkeys

KIMMYNEWZ- (Norf Korea)
The starving and glorious People's Army Dietician Corps have once again made an amazing discovery! Dr. Mee Hung Gree, has found that American grown Tom turkeys are loaded in caloric brain power. It is rumored that turkey is even more revered by the Great Reader than Chihuahua on a stick or the infamous Korean Kimchee soup. Great Reader KIM Jong IL stated "If that's true... then as of tomorrow afternoon I'll be a Foo-king wocket scientologist! Just make sure doze birds are frums the states and not China. Lousy Chinese blastards!

Ruv You Looong Time!!! JG

Monday, November 24, 2008

KIM Jong IL's Thanksgiving Message to the Masses

ATTENTION! The guy who this brogg (blog) is all about, is jealous, and has not been heard from lately. It is therefore necessary to hear the following message from the GREAT READER, his own self, and have JihadGene step away from the keyboard for this special holiday message:

Deer Massive Amounts of Readers,
As you know I am one busy "Wild & Crazy Guy" here in the Pyongyang Convalescent Hospital and NORKO Uranium Enrichment Plant #7, but I too must paws in my busy schedule and give honor to the "Great One" for the blessings bestowed upon me, GREAT READER, KIM Jong IL. Though it has been a rough year for me, what with the strokes, then being taken off Georgie DoubleWoo Bushies Axes of Evil List and all... still I'm takes heart in the fact that soon I'ms will be dealing with the US Secretary of State Hillree Clintone! So I'm must give thanks on this most auspicious of American holidays, that you call "Thanksgiving", to all the millions of you, my very own Axes of Evil members and readers of my brog, GREAT READER. I'm can't tanks you enuff!

In the words of the great statesman from Tupilo, Mississippi ( ELVIS ).....
Thank you. Thank you very much!

Great Reader, KIM Jong IL

Friday, November 21, 2008

It's Friday! Let's Dance!

Great Reader, KIM Jong IL wants to party with these guys LOOONG time! Ladies and Gent's I give you (drum roll please)......... Sam the Sham and his wonderful Pharaohs!
It's Friday...let's dance!!!!

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Thanksgiving is Daily

JihadGene here. See the title? It's true. It's true even on days when you are not feeling so hot-to-trot. I'm even thankful for this nutty-assed blog, so I can get some things off my chest, or rant, or rave, or do my keyboard imitation of Great Reader KIM Jong IL. It helps. Yes, I pray. Some of you don't. If you can wish a person well..... burn sage....or if you're a Wickin, Don't be a Chicken...and think good thoughts for these folks and their families. They need our support, our thanks, and our love. JG

PFC Hunter Levine
Cpt Rob Yllescas
LTC Ty Edwards

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Love American VS Korean Style #12

In the beginning...
In Part 1- I met the girl I would marry. Her name is Kim. Love at 1st sight (for me, anyway).
In Part 2- I spent what money I had to set up a birthday party that would put me with Kim.
In Part 3- Kim gets puked on by drunk Birthday Boy. Kim leaves. I am miserable.
In Part 4- Korean Grandmothers (Shaman) take pity on me. We Kamikaze in a taxi to Kim's.
In Part 5- I survive the taxi ride. The Grandmothers tell me they will fix all. I must return to base. I can't beat the midnight curfew but I damn sure try.
In Part 6- Suicide ride on a bus bumper. Crash. Injuries and more. Concussion too! Police chase. Escape & Evade.
In Part 7- Climb a telephone pole. Steal a bike with one wheel. Make my Great Escape.
In Part 8- Ride bike into a Banjo-Ditch (sewage). Another concussion. I crawl out and am captured by the ROK Army, then returned to base.
In Part 9- Medical treatment at 0130 hours. AM meeting with Military Police 1SG Black Thunder Johnson. Made an Ambassador to South Korea. Run to Motor Pool.
In Part 10- Bicycle recovered. I fall into the banjo ditch. 1SG YOON/1SG Johnson/Me and the Korean Grandfather have a Pow-wow. Intercultural relations rebuilt. Valuable lessons learned.
In Part 11- The First Sergeants have a meeting. I am cleaned up at a ROK Army wash point. We go to Kim's. I am Elvis, to the Korean Grandmothers. I SEE KIM! We are returning to base.

So....It's in mid March of 1975. It's kinda cold and I am a wet 20 year old male soldier who has fallen in love with the pretty Korean girl named KIM. I am wet because I slipped and fell into a Korean banjo-ditch and had to be hosed off/cleaned up. I'm driving an M151A1 (Jeep) with 1SG B.T. (Black Thunder) Johnson in the front passengers seat and 1SG Yoon, K.Y. (Kill You) is in the back. The infamous one wheeled bicycle is in the trailer we are towing. We drive on in Gate#1 (main gate) of Camp Hialeah, located in the southern port city of Pusan, S. Korea. My fellow MP's at the gate wave us in while searching my face for a clue as to what would be my fate. I had no idea. 1SG Johnson told me to drop him, the bicycle, and 1SG Yoon off at the Orderly Room, turn in the jeep, change into dry fatigues, and report back to him after chow (lunch). "Roger that", I said... while wondering what he was going to do with me and the bicycle. Everyone in the company orderly room came out to see the bicycle. I drove off, headed for the motor pool. All heads and eyes followed me as I departed the company area. Was I gonna get an Article 15? Oh shit, I hoped not. Was I gonna get some kind'a fine and maybe reduction in rank? Was I gonna get to spend the rest of my Army days cleaning out the grease traps in the mess hall or worse...were they gonna change my MOS (job skill) to a damned cook in the mess hall? At that time most cooks in the mess hall were the guys too stupid to qualify to be truck drivers (no offense to truck drivers). Ooooh crap. All these thoughts were going through my battered brain and the gang back at the orderly room were all asking these same questions themselves. The First Sergeants went in to see my Company Commander. The bike was left in the supply room. My fate to be decided after lunch.

I turned in the jeep and trailer. The Motor Pool Sergeant said nothing...but he did keep looking at me like I was some kind of a circus side-show act. The sergeant held his fire, so to speak. I returned to the barracks. My fellow squad members (Katusa'a and G.I.'s) known as the Mod Squad and the house boys saw the bicycle and all agreed that it was not worth salvaging. Bent frame and handlebars. Rear rim badly damaged and many missing spokes. The one tire on it was really shot-out too. But why would the First Sergeant's bring the bike back to the Company area? Did they not know what a wasted mess it was? Maybe Black Thunder, since he was American, didn't know so much of bicycles...but surely the Katusa First Sergeant Yoon knew the difference between something worth saving and a piece of trash?! Now everyone was surrounding me asking me these things, these questions of which I had no answer for. The house boys, my fellow squad members, and I... all shook our heads in puzzlement. Screw chow (lunch)...I took a nap.

I would have woken up feeling refreshed however my Squad Leader, Staff Sergeant OLY, from the great state of Maine was shaking me awake after about 10 minutes of snooze time and saying in a loud and panicked voice, "What in the name of Satan have you done, Spc4 (Specialist 4th Class) Jihad"?! Now SSG Oly or "The Big O", as we called him, was only the 2nd person I had ever met from the state of Maine and just like the first guy I'd met from the state of Maine he was no exception...he was a complete asshole. SSG OLY was a big man in size...taller than me by one inch...he was 6'4", and outweighed me (then) by 40 lbs at 250. Those mother's in Maine must feed their mutated vaginal discharges (babies) yellow snow or moose milk, or something...whatever. So OLY is panicked, like always. Scared for his own ass in some way, shape, or form. Perhaps he is a US Senator now , or lives in the woods. Anyways, he says he heard about my curfew violation while at the PX with his Korean wife (the poor thing) and he demanded to know what happened. I told him an abbreviated version as to how I was late returning to base and broke curfew. He told me I was really doomed and deserved to be placed in Fort Leavenworth for such a horrendous crime and that HE would take absolutely no heat over this! I reassured him that he had nothing to do with this and that it was all my fault. OLY and our squad were on days off when I broke curfew. I told Oly the First Sergeant probably didn't want to bug him until he returned to duty/work tomorrow. It was now time for me to go see the First Sergeant and I told SSG Oly this. Like a scared rabbit, he split. I remembered six months previously when I was brand new to Korea and on MP patrol duties with him...

I was assigned to SSG Oly's squad and new in Korea. Pusan is a big city of 2 million people. It's a major port city. Many ships, sailors, and Marines drop by often to partake of al-key-hall (alcohol) and hookers. As an MP it is heaven on earth! We get to patrol the Red Light Districts! Bar fights and all kinds of shit! Great place for a young man to figure out how things work (I'll leave it at that). It is September 1974 and I am on patrol with SSG Oly. We are on the graveyard shift (midnight-8AM). MP's usually patrol/do a drive-by of these bar& red-light districts right after curfew (midnight). There are two "comfort" areas we check on a regular basis...Texas Street and Green Street. Big O tells me to go to Green Street and gives me directions there as we drive. He seems pleased that I don't know where it is. I was new in country and I'm still scared from all those VD briefings they gave us. It was basically gross slide-shows of guys peckers or possibly broccoli or cauliflower, that's covered with katsup. It wasn't pretty and for a new guy it would usually last for about 2-4 weeks until the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) wore off. For guys from Tennessee or North Carolina their new-found celibacy would last about 2 to 4 hours, if sober and it's a Sunday. Where was I? Oh...well we go to the red light district of Green Street. I pull up to a place that Big O tells me to go to, and he tells me to honk the horn three times. I give three quick beeps on the horn and out the door comes a plain looking Korean girl of maybe 20-25 years old. That means she could'a been 35 easily. Big O asks if she's busy and she shakes her head no. I have just seen THREE BEEPS! Big O thinks I don't know who she is. Big O is an idiot. 3 BEEPS...or the most infamous BJ queen of the Orient! Even a newbee like me had already heard of her. She never used her hands...Bill Clinton should have been in the Army...she was... and in my mind, is still a legend. Some say she was a technical advisor for the movie Deepthroat. SSG OLY must think I live in Fresno or something...he tells me, "Jihad, I'm going in to take a SOFA (Status of Forces Agreement) complaint. So stay in the jeep and if you need me just honk". I say, "OK Sarge" like a good soldier. So I'm sitting in the M151 (jeep) waiting, like I don't know what the hell my Staff Sergeant is up to, when along comes a cutie. A Korean hooker. We talk but I really don't know much Korean and her English isn't so hot. I am sitting in the jeep behind the wheel. She cocks her ass sideways, sits on my lap, puts her arms around me, and sticks her tongue in my ear. I admitt it...I'm excited...but I'm scared. She wants me to kiss her but all I can think of is what BEEPS does for a living and what my tongue would look like if I made out with her. She immediately pegs me...."You cherry boy!" Well of course I say no. I lie and say I am married. She kind of respects that while grinding her butt in my crotch. She then begins pointing at the instrument panel on the jeep and says things like gas...speed...and battery. While I'm all into this English lesson/crotch grinding she suddenly begins to honk the horn. Beep! Beeeeep! At first I just smile and then I quickly grab her hand away from the horn and say no. It's too late. Out the door comes SSG Oly with pants and pistol belt down around his ankles, boxer shorts half way on and trying to get to the jeep asking where the problem is. The girl is still on my lap laughing and saying beep-beep! Big O tells me to get rid of the girl and not to touch the fu*king horn. He goes back inside. 5 minutes later he comes back out apparently unsatisfied and pissed off. Seems I had broken his train of thought while conducting the investigation. I chuckled inside. Asshole.

After the BEEPS flashback... I began putting on my jump boots and tried to imagine what it was I had possibly waiting for me in the First Sergeant's office. It wasn't good, but what was it? I was sort of uptight so to speak but I had been 100 per cent honest with Black Thunder. He seemed to understand. He showed some humor in it all. Took interest in my story, so much so that he even went out to investigate the incident for himself. My First Sergeant wanted me to be a good Ambassador and I did just that. I just didn't want to end up as a good Samurai falling on his sword. I had already thrown myself at the mercy of the court, so to speak. My gut rumbled...I had to take a crap. I took care of business then headed to the orderly room wondering if I would be given a blindfold and last cigarette? (To Be Continued)

Friday, November 14, 2008

The Wife's Beanie Baby Collection

I just want a place to dump or otherwise bury all my wife’s STOOOPID Beanie Baby collection. I’ve secretly been culling them off for years. One month at a time, I see to it that my dog, the West Highland White Terrorist (Booger Butt) gets one fed to her...each and every month. I take her to a Vet who hates those Beanie-Headed-Bastards as much as I do. He says all that fiber is good for her and the fuzzy stuff acts as a floss for her colon. Cool! She chews the crap out of them…I love it! I hide the evidence down deep in the garbage that even a Progressive wouldn’t touch. I hope my secret is safe with you. I’ll go to my grave knowing I did my best as a Husband but those Beanie Babys SUCK MASSIVELY! May they all rot in Hell with my 401K!
*Special thanks to Pam for the inspiration and Beanie Baby photo!

It's Friday! Let's Dance!

Hold Him or Her really close, now...and dance slowly to my Elder Sister Carol's favorite singer...Johnny Mathis. Carol, you are truly Wonderful...Wonderful! So have a Happy Friday and more Korean Love/Horror stories to come up this weekend! JG ;)

Thursday, November 13, 2008

It's PFC Hunter Levine's Birthday!

Happy 21st Birthday Hunter! I guess you're in Houston, Texas...God's country...some say.

Here's a place to send him your birthday wishes at Hunter's website .

Here's a birthday card funny! Am I goin' to hell for posting this?

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Happy Veteran's Day, Dad!

My favorite Veteran! My Dad. This is my Mom and Dad, engaged in August 1942.
Both are gone now but not forgotten.


It's Veteran's Day. Thank a Vet, and keep our troops and their families prayed up. That's an order. Ruv you all looong time! Great Reader

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Love American VS Korean Style #11

Part 1- I met the girl I would marry. Her name is Kim. Love at 1st sight (for me, anyway).
In Part 2- I spent what money I had to set up a birthday party that would put me with Kim.
In Part 3- Kim gets puked on by drunk Birthday Boy. Kim leaves. I am miserable.
In Part 4- Korean Grandmothers (Shamen) take pity on me. We Kamikazee in a taxi to Kim's.
In Part 5- I survive the taxi ride. The Grandmothers tell me they will fix all. I must return to base.
In Part 6- Suicide ride on a bus bumper. Crash. Injuries and more. Police chase. Escape & Evade.
In Part 7- Climb a telephone pole. Steal a bike with one wheel. Make my Great Escape.
In Part 8- Ride bike into a Banjo-Ditch (sewage). Another concussion. I crawl out and am captured by the ROK Army, then returned to base.
In Part 9- Medical treatment at 0130 hours. AM meeting with Military Police 1SG Black Thunder Johnson. Made an Ambassador to South Korea. Run to Motor Pool.
In Part 10- Bicycle recovered. I fall into the banjo ditch. 1SG YOON/1SG Johnson/Me and the Korean Grandfather have a Pow-wow. Intercultural relations rebuilt. Valuable lessons learned.

And now, Dear Readers, Part 11-
We continue our story of love and misfortune between the love-struck G.I., JihadGene, and a beautiful Korean girl named Kim. It is 0930 hours, March 1975 in Pusan, South Korea. Gene is 20 years old. Kim is 21. Let the good times roll! (I wished)

Well I am told by 1SG B.T. Johnson (Black Thunder) to get in the back of the jeep trailer with the bicycle. Upon hearing this I dropped my head immediately, like a pup who got caught poopin' where he wasn't supposed to, and head for the trailer. We (the bike, the rope, and me) are all crap-covered from the banjo ditch recovery mission. I do not smell so good. The Korean First Sergeant told me to stop right there. I looked up as he began quietly talking to First Sergeant Johnson and, like the sharpest of traffic cops on duty, put his hand up in a crisp Korean Military Police motion for me to stop right where I was. I stopped. Well, due to all the head wounds I had received the previous night, I couldn't hear so good but I tried to. 1SG Johnson and 1SG YOON, Kil Yoo were having a Korean and American First Sergeant's meetin' right there on the side of the road. It seems that 1SG Yoon had been impressed with my demeanor and sincerity. He made it clear that I had done well to overcome the obstacles of stupidity I had placed in front my own pathway...and besides....who was this pretty girl that would make me go all Gah-Gah and suffer such injuries and humiliation for anyway? He had to have a look. First Sergeant Johnson, a hulk of a black American male with zero body fat, had his hands on his hips, and just stared back towards me, while the handsome and fit Korean Charles Bronson, 1SG Yoon, K.Y. talked . Black Thunder rocked heel-to-toe in his highly shined jump boots, every inch of him a professional soldier in the US Army. First Sergeant Yoon, his feet spread shoulder width apart, the epitomy of what a tough Korean soldier should be like, nodded in the affirmative to Johnson and both were looking at me. Their faces seemed blank, unreadable. I was told to get in the trailer and to duck down low so I would not be seen. They were gonna take me and get me cleaned up before we returned to the Army camp. I did as told and all kinds of wierd thoughts raced through my battered skull as 1SG Yoon placed the trailer tarp over, the rope, and the bike.

We took a short ride and nearby was a wash point for the ROK (Republic of Korea) Army where I was hosed down with high pressure cold water and cleaned up. So was the bicycle with one wheel and the jeep trailer, tarp, and rope. Jeeez it was cold! Well, it was either that or ride in the trailer and wave at all the Koreans laughing at me on parade/display. "Spray me" I said...and that they did. A nearby M113 ROK armored personnel carrier crew just looked my way in disbelief. Maybe they thought it was some form of punishment that American and Katusa First Sergeants used on troops in the US Army who f*cked up! I'll never know. They offered some rags to dry me off with, God bless them. I hopped in the drivers seat. Clean, cold, and slightly soggy. I fired up the M151A2. Camp Hialeah, here we come! Well, almost.

As the driver, I was about to turn in the direction of the camp when 1SG Yoon, sitting behind me, tapped me on the shoulder and said "We go to the ladie's house". I looked at my First Sergeant who smiled ever-so-slightly and said, "Take us to Miss Kim's. We want to do some follow up investigation before I decide what I'm gonna do with you, Specialist Jihad. Got that"? 10-4, I said. Smiling but confused, I drove us to Kim's place. In spite of all the crap I had been through, and the disciplinary actions and options I could face, I was optimistic as to my fate. I drove us to Kim's. Once there I was told to stay in the jeep while they continued the investigation. Awww crap. They were treating me just like the Korean Grandmothers/Good Witches. I heard 1SG Yoon yell a greeting at the metal gate then they entered. Outside I raised the hood of the jeep and acted like I was a good soldier checking it for any sign of mechanical malfunction or defect. All the while I was straining to hear or see anything I could. Hoping to see or hear my lovely Kim. For 10 looong minutes I heard nothing. I checked my sludge smeared Timex...yep... it was 10 minutes but seemed more like 2 hours. Finally I hear a door sliding open and Korean GrandMa's cackling. The gate, in need of oil, screeches open. The First Sergeants approach with the Grandmothers. I bow to the ladies and they squeal like a bunch of school girls who just saw Elvis! They clap their hands together, smiles on all faces, bow and giggle at me in return. I look beyond them for Kim. No Kim. More talk (in Korean). More looks (Korean). More smiles (Korean). The warmth these ladies generated (Korean) ! 1SG Johnson looked at me and said, "Jihad...You are one lucky young man". Meanwhile the Grandmothers removed my cap and examined the stitches on my forehead. They fussed over me and I began to turn that beet-red-in-the-face color again. The Grandmothers ate it up even more and pointed at my embarrassed face. Yep, for one moment in time...I "WAS" ELVIS! But I was an Elvis without his Priscilla. 1SG Yoon explained, with 1SG Johnson's direction, that it would not be proper for Kim to see me at this time. 1SG Johnson said, "It's better that way. Besides... I've got to figure out what to do with you, Troop. You did violate curfew and you know that MP's set the example." I mumbled a yes to my First Sergeant. We then bowed our goodbyes. I bowed deeply....the Grandmother's squealed with delight...I was safe, for now, at least with them, anyway. 1SG Yoon smiled at me. I was not only Elvis, I was a good Ambassador. We got in the jeep and I started it. I looked at the gate one last time...THERE SHE WAS! IT WAS HER! IT WAS HER! IT WAS HER! AND SHE SMILED AT ME! AT ME-ME-MEEEEEE!!! I let the clutch out too fast and killed the engine. Black Thunder slapped me on the shoulder and loudly said, "HOME, SOLDIER"! I re-focused, restarted, and off we went. The Grandmothers waved goodbye and I bowed once more from behind the steering wheel. The Korean Grandmothers were jumping for joy! I looked for Kim in the rear view mirror, but... like the Zombies song...she's not there. She went inside. (To Be Continued)

PFC Hunter Levine Update & Stuff

Hunter has been moved to Texas and thats a good thing. He is super close to home now! His birthday is right around the corner Nov 13th so how about sending him a card to let him know we are still with him? I knew you would! Here's the info I got from my very own ROCK STAR blogger, friend (Tammy) at Army Household6...

Hunter was moved from Palo Alto to (I believe the Michael E. Debakey VA Medical Center ) in Houston. I'll let you know more details once I know for sure.

Also, if anyone would like to send Hunter letters of encouragement or donate to Hearts for Hunter, they can be sent to:

Hearts for Hunter
395 Sawdust Rd.
The Woodlands Tx, 77380

(we are holding off on care packages for Hunter right now, till we know what he needs specifically)

JihadGene here again...
We need to get on this quickly people or we'll have to send Hunter one of those belated birthday greeting cards. No packages at this time. Just a card. Hunter really requests nothing from us but you and I know that a card just thinking of him can be worth more money than those damn Democrats and Republicans can print up for Wall Street. Let's do it! Here's the Hearts for Hunter website. Thanks to all who have already helped and please continue with prayer and good Ju-Ju, good Mo-Jo, and Go Dogs Go ( a little Dr Seuss there) !

STUFF- I got a call from Tammy (Army Household6) about 10 days ago and you talk about a nuclear powered person...that gal can talk, type, and take care of her family all at the same time. In short she's a super person and I am proud to have cyber-veered into her path. She's in the process of moving from the Washington DC area to Colorado Springs. So let's send her some good vibes and prayers for her family's move. They truly are an exceptional military family! Got some cool e-mail from Chromed Curses and I thank her for her observations. While I'm at it.... I want to say that Eric and his wonderful wife put on the dog for some bloggers at their home in Tennessee. Guests included my Jewish blog Mother Erica, and a gang of others. The reviews of those who attended were awesome! Your southern hospitality has touched even the NORTHERN Yankee-killin' dog heart of the GREAT READER! Love American VS Korean Style will continue tonight. And one more time.....GET A CARD MAILED OFF TO HUNTER (please)!
Ruv You Looong Time!!! JG ;)

Friday, November 7, 2008

It's Friday! Let's Dance!!!

Ruff week? Feeling and looking like somethin' the cat's dragged in? Well take heart, it's a Friday after all. I'm gonna cheat on the wife this Friday. Yep, I'm pickin' up a babe and I'm dancing with her today. She calls me Ralph... I call her Booger Butt. Now pick up a pooch (or a damned cat, if you can find it) and dance!!!

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Election Coverage, West Highland White Terriers, Dreams, and the Army

*I dedicate this to Pam who is owned by a wonderful dog named Bree.

Meanwhile back in Pyongyang East (California) JihadGene has fallen asleep on the sofa with his somewhat faithful K-9 companion, Booger Butt, his sort'a trusty West Highland White Terrier...

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz......JihadGene is dreaming....zzzzz...he's back in the Army ....alone and surrounded by the enemy... his only chance for help is by military radio.... on the other end, is his dog...zzzzZZzzz....

JihadGene to Booger Butt! JihadGene to Booger Butt!! Come in Booger Butt, over!!!

B. Butt to Gene...woof...WhaSup?! Over.

JihadGene to Booger Butt!...I made a big tactical, error. Over!

Booger Butt-
B. Butt to Gene, woof...say wot? Over.

JihadGene to Booger Butt!...I made a big mistake! I'm surrounded by a bunch of LIBTARDS! McCain and my Dallas Cowboys are loser's! I really screwed the pooch on this one!!! Over!

Booger Butt-
B. Butt to Gene...woof...Watch your talk on the FM radio frequencies or we will have the FCC all over our asses! In reference to McCain, I told ya so! Now...woof... Give me a SIT-REP (situation report)... Over.

JihadGene to Booger Butt...A Sit-Rep? Yeah, okay Booger. I'll do my best. At 0340 hours Zulu time (7:40 PM PST) I turned on the TV and it was...FOO KING HORRIBLE! I was watching CNN and JOHN McCAIN was losing I tell ya...HE WAS LOSING!!! How copy, over?

Booger Butt to Gene...woof...Roger that shit! So OBAMA is ahead, huh?

JihadGene to Booger Butt...You know it!! Any advice?! Over!

Booger Butt-
Booger Butt to Gene...woof...Go to bed. Over.

JihadGene to Booger Butt...But it's too early for bed! Over.

Booger Butt-
Boog's to Gene...woof...then take a nap, damn it!!! Now leave me alone. I gotta go wipe my ass on the living room carpet. BOOGER BUTT, OUT!

10-4 and Roger that, Boog's. Takin' your advice. JIHADGENE OUT.