From: baw2@cunixb.cc.columbia.edu (Bruce A Weisberg)
Subject: Re: Roy.
Reply-To: baw2@cunixb.cc.columbia.edu (Bruce A Weisberg)
Organization: Columbia University
Date: Fri, 28 Aug 1992 18:48:27 GMT

In article <1992Aug27.204414.1@vax1.umkc.edu> rtiger@vax1.umkc.edu writes:
>
>I just wanted to tell you all about my years in the Navy.
>
>It all started back in 1983 when my mama threw me out of our big house up in
>Otter Haunch, Alaska.  That was in the days when Otters were cold and real men
>could stand up to wiley mooses.  The next morning (after my forced vacancy)
>when I woke up in the icy forests that surrounded our little dacha, I new
>(knew) that my destiny was large than any Otter Haunch.
>
>I decided to join the Navy.
>
>I wasn't going to go it alone.  I wanted a friend there with me.  My friend's
>name was Murdock.  He didn't have a first name.  He didn't have a last one
>either.  So I just called him Murdock.  We used to drink up the hooch together
>in our high school days.  Those were good days, but not one where I could
>unleash my manliness like I knew a service such as the US Marine...oops...Navy
>could provide.
>
>I was stationed out on the Midway.  I liked the Midway.  For those of you who
>don't know, it's a big ship in the middle of the Pacific.  Kinda shaped like an
>artificial prosthesis.  Filled with many, many men.
>
>The Navy provided me with some discipline skills.  I used to have problems
>waking up in the morning (on time...hehehe...I would eventually ALWAYS wake
>up....hehehe).  When I would oversleep, the Sarge...oops...I forgot...the
>Navy...the Rear Gunner's Mate would always have me in the kitchen peeling gobs
>and gobs of dog legs.  Actually, they weren't dog legs but that's what we
>called those greasy Irish potatoe things covered in cumlobs.
>
>Of course, the time that I spent in the Navy was not wasted time.  I knew that
>if I was going to become that special education assistant that I had always
>dreamed of becoming (you see, I have a little sister with a harelip and damned 
>if I could understand a word).  I used a mop like a madman and eventually was 
>head cleaner.  When I left the Navy, I was a lean, mean, scouring machine.  I 
>went to work immediately for Digital.  It was there that I fielded my first 
>phone call from a man named Tasset.  Mr. Tasset asked me about laser printers 
>and how the queues are not supposed to be aligned with DecPresent.  That's his
>program, you know.  I had to go on a visit of the campus facilities and met a
>nice man with a receeding hairline.  His name was Onstool or something like
>that.  It was there that I met a nice man from the Physical Plant whose name
>I can't remember, but he chewed me out when I turned on the light switch and
>he was not around.  
>
>When I came back to the office, I had forgetten to pick up Russ Woolum's 
>Electronic Kit.  It contains a lot of neat jade American-Indian art medallions
>and things like that.  I like jade.  I had to put on my DecShoes and march
>right back to UMKCDSKS to get the kit.
>
>But then there was the time when I crossed the equator for the first time. 
>Since I was one of the few sailors who had never been across the equator, they
>had to initiate me and my buddys. They put me in a big tube of garbage and I
>had to slide through it. Then when I came out the other end, there was a
>shirtless sweatty man sitting in a chair with a tattoo on his belly. The tattoo
>had a cow with it's legged cross, and it said "Barney the ball-les cow" on it.
>So I had to bury my face in it and lick. His skin was wet and salty. It
>reminded me of home, and how much I missed my sister. But that's another story. 
>So then they made us go one by one down one of those cool chutes you always
>see on the decks of sheeps. Oops, I mean ships. Like the kind Bluto stuck Olive
>in at the end of the Popeye movie. The guy in front of me screamed something
>like "I'll see you in the unholy abyss!" as he plummetted down. Then there was
>a scream. I smelled smoke. I was scared and didn't go down. They tried to make
>me, and I said no. I was a man. But then they told me I had passed initiation,
>because the in actuality the chute went into the boiler and that was how they
>weeded out the pansy pushovber sailors.
>
>Finally we came to port in Singapore. A bald man named Anshul greeted us as we
>got off the ship. There was lots of colorful culture. Some of us guys hadn't
>had any since we were last in port a month earlier, so we went to a brothel.
>They filed us all into a small room and sent in some whores. Did somebody say
>whore? Anyway, the lights went out and we all took turns. But then we started
>feeling small tickles running around out groins, and started to itch. It was
>like little bugs. "Man, I sure hope these is chiggers!" cried one of my
>buddies. Bu they weren't. They were crabs. It made me wish I was back at home
>with my feet up on the couch whacking off while watching "Evening at the Pops"
>on PBS.
>
>
>--
>RTIGER
>
>Hear me roar.
>
>The "R" is for "Roy".


	If you posted this here, you must be the kind of person who wacks off
to "evening at Pops".  Try alt.maturbation.foolishness.



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