Thursday, July 30, 2009

From Beyond the Grave, Part 3

Billy in Heaven, of course!

We know it seems a little early to be bothering Billy so soon after his untimely passing, but honestly, we didn’t think anyone else could have a snowball’s chance in Hell of hawking these products. We caught Billy on a busy Sunday afternoon of blowing out discounted souls in Heaven (3 for 1! No hidden shipping charges! Guaranteed to work or a full refund!) and he agreed to help us out. We really appreciate Billy taking the time to come back and put his classic sales spin on these products. He assured us it was no problem, and that “Heaven Can Wait.” Ha Ha! Good one, Billy! Man, we miss this guy.

Thanks for coming in Billy, take it away!:

Chia Obama

“Hi folks! Billy Mays here! Have you been finding yourself feeling a little down lately!? Did some sort of affirmative action loving terrorist bust up your favourite lawn jockey!? Can’t seem to find a way to display your latent racism in a public fashion without some bleeding heart taking you to task for it!? You need the Chia Obama! The Chia Obama fits safely on a windowsill inside your home, out of the reach of liberal vandals, and yet still allows you to show the world that you’re not shy to display creepily racist tokens that seem like artifacts from some bygone era!”

“Imagine the hours of fun you can have with your Chia Obama! You can practice giving him different haircuts or let that sucker grow out until it will hold a pick! Imagine snickering to yourself as you sit him down on the coffee table and force him to watch Bill O’Reilly with you! If you act now, we’ll send you not one, not two, not three, but fifteen Chia Obamas for one low price of $5.99! That’s right, fifteen for the price of one! We’ve got truckloads of these things that aren’t moving, so act now, before you’re the only white supremacist on the block without one! As a final special incentive, if you order before noon today, we’ll send along a voucher for a free Limited Edition Chia Michael Bolton, due to be released as soon as the fine folks at Chia figure out how to get one to grow Shredded Wheat for hair! Don’t delay, folks, order today!”

Wow, nice work, Billy! We’ve just got one more product for you:

Mr Happy Hand

“You’re shitting me, right? Oh, well, here goes nothing. Hey, folks, Billy Mays here again! Have you ever found yourself wishing you had an extra hand to help with those everyday tasks around the house!? Ever tried to put the condiments on your hot dog bun, but didn’t have anyone around to hold your wiener while you were doing it!? The Mr. Happy Hand is there for you! Not only will it hold your wiener, when you start up it’s patented Stroke Action ©, it will actually use the awesome power of friction to keep your wiener hot until it’s ready to be put in the bun. Just make sure you don’t start the Stroke Action © motor too soon, because you might find your wiener worn out and limp before it even gets in the bun! It’s that powerful!”

“Use the Mr. Happy Hand to help in the garden, too! It’s patented Stroke Action © is guaranteed to make your hose spray evenly and predictably every time, and unlike your own hands, it will never succumb to carpal tunnel syndrome or bothersome hair growth. Use it around the house to shake the TV remote so you can get those last few clicks out of the batteries! Need both hands to type on your blog!? Use the Mr. Happy Hand to hold onto your kielbasa until it’s lunchtime! The Mr. Happy Hand helps you concentrate on the important tasks at hand, without using your own hands! Order today before midnight and we’ll throw in a free bottle of disinfectant, perfect for cleaning your Mr. Happy Hand after it has completed its various stroking tasks! So order quickly folks, these babies are going fast, some are even going off early, and you sure don’t want to be left holding your own wiener!”

Gee, thanks, Billy! That was great! Say hello to God for us when you get back, I’m sure you guys hang out all the time. Boy, there goes one classy guy. Why do they only take the good ones so young?

Thursday, July 23, 2009

B’s Almost True Hollywood Stories, Part 2

Episode 2: The Day the Music, and Everyone Who Made It, Died.

There have been many feuds in Hollywood over the years. Some of those feuds are well known, such as Brangelina vs. JenJohnandVaughn, and Mel Gibson vs. The Jews Who Run Everything And Are Out To Get Him. It was always thought that the world of children’s television, while a consistent cash cow, was immune to the problems plaguing the mainstream entertainment industry. Through in depth research, guesstimation, and a not-too-unliberal amount of fabrication, we here at B’s Almost True Hollywood Stories have uncovered a chilling tale of the behind-the-scenes gang wars that plagued “Toddlerwood” in the 1990’s heyday of tot TV.

The year is 1998. Bill Clinton is President, and he is busy redefining the meaning of the word “blowjob” to the American public. Before the year is out, he will face impeachment, and friends and neighbours around the country will embrace the new “eatin’ ain’t cheatin’” zeitgeist gripping the nation. In this tumultuous climate of consequence-free handjobs and muff-diving between coworkers and random aquaintances, a war is silently raging in the background, all but unnoticed: the gang-war to end all gang-wars.

Barney's Gang

After taking to the nation’s television screens in 1992, Barney and his Gang had become an almost overnight sensation, delighting scores of children around the nation with their goofy voices, baby talk, and heartwarming songs about love, family, and getting along. It didn’t take long until the pleasantly pudgy purple dinosaur became the go-to-guy for moms all across America that needed a spare moment or two to pay the plumber with a blowjob (Hooray Clinton Economy!) for fixing a leaky sink or snaking a turd-plugged toilet. Children would sit transfixed for hours, watching Barney and his friends do their thing, and singing along with the gang’s inane, yet values-filled simple songs. Everything was coming up roses for Barney and Friends, but a dark cloud loomed on the horizon.

Teletubbies Rap Across the pond in Merry Olde Englishville, competition was brewing. The Teletubbies had been formed from a talent search that had exhaustively combed through thousands of contestants in order to put together a so-called Supergroup of toddler-pleasing talent, led by a tough-talking former East End Enforcer, T(inky) Winky. Boy-band impresario and future convict Lou Perlman was even rumoured to have been retained as a consultant in the selection process. The Teletubbies mission was clear: total and utter domination of the the toddler television market and its lucrative merchandise market. When the Teletubbies first appeared on American television screens, they were an instant success, and immediately grabbed a large audience away from the purpler, more coherent, and almost understandable Barney.

In trouble again

As Barney’s ratings began to drop, his behaviour, always a concern for the show’s producers, began to become more erratic and violent. He is shown here in a police mugshot taken after a routine traffic stop for a broken taillight led to a drunken melee with police officers. Barney was left bloody and bruised after a serious night-sticking and his fellow cast member Riff (known as “Spliff” to show insiders) was shot seventeen times in the incident. It is assumed the duo’s fame was responsible for the LAPD showing such restraint in the situation. It was around this period that Barney began uttering threats in the Teletubbies’ direction, both publicly and privately. In one recently released email, he is quoted as telling Teletubby leader Tinky Winky that if the Tubbies didn’t leave town, Winky would find himself “packing your own head around in that fucking man-purse you flounce around with.”

A little tense on the set

Never one to back down from a fight, hard luck London East Ender and former Yardie Tinky Winky fanned the flames of war with his own proclamation, on his best-selling rap album, “T Winky Gettin’ Kinky.” In the song “Die, You Purple Dinosaur Fuck,” Winky raps of his disdain for an unknown “Purple Dinosaur Fuck” (assumed now to be Barney) and threatens to “disembowel you with my razor sharp vowel use” before “popping a cap in yo big fuckin’ yap.” In the picture at left, taken by an unknown crew member, the Tubbies are shown in an argument with the producer of the show over demands in their contract rider. This conflict was said to have arisen over the fact that the bitches supplied to wash the Tubbies’ Hummer with their titties were “Crackers,” instead of the rider-specified “Latina Hos” and “Nubian Princesses.” This photo was the last anyone saw of the producer, however T Winky later rapped that the unfortunate fellow could be “found by the pound, all around town, nomasayin?”

In Spring of 2000, things came to a grisly head. After months of private and public mudslinging, the stage had been set for a final confrontation. Barney, always susceptible to the siren call of hard drugs, had reportedly been on a crystal meth binge for over a week, when he and his posse entered the studio where the Teletubbies filmed their show. In what was described later by the sole surviving crewman as being “like that elevator scene from The Shining,” Barney and his dinosaur friends embarked on a blood soaked killing spree that would leave everyone involved with the show in pieces of gore-soaked foam. The surviving crew member, speaking of the incident (on the condition of anonymity) told us: “What the fuck did the Tubbies expect? Did they honestly think a bunch of fat little mental patients with TV screens in their stomachs were any match for a fuckin’ T-Rex?!” The only picture from the day’s events, recovered from a screenshot of Winky’s tummy television, shows a small snapshot of the day’s carnage:

Barney at work Somehow, an eye patch makes decapitation even scarier, if that’s possible.

Although the truth is now known about the fateful events of that day, an adequate explanation of the Teletubbies’ disappearance was never offered at the time. The studio head of the day, Michael Eisner, flanked by Barney at a press conference, merely announced that the Teletubbies “had probably gone home, stupid limeys.” He refused to offer further explanation at the time, but upon review of the tape of the press conference, Barney’s clap on Eisner’s shoulder and knowing nod as they leave together speaks volumes about the conspiracy of silence around the issue.

Join us next time when B’s Almost True Hollywood Stories examines the rumours surrounding Gilligan’s Island. With two hot chicks on the island, why was Gilligan always sucking up to the Captain? Perhaps he had found a taste for seamen?

Monday, July 20, 2009

You’ve sold your house! Yay!…Aw crap.

Sold!

Enjoy hammering this sign into the ground. It will be the last time you don’t feel homicidally angry for a long while…a real long while.

I’ve been away from the blog-lar system for the last week because I have been busy participating in that most utterly enjoyable of activities: moving out of our old house and into our new (to us) house. It took almost a year to sell our old house, and it didn’t happen a minute too soon. If I heard one more idiot present a lowball offer with some list of “reasons” why it was so low, I think I was going to fucking lose it. Why in the name of Christ would I care why they thought they should offer less than our asking price? Doesn’t the phrase “sold as is” mean anything any more? We know the driveway isn’t paved, morons, so don’t tell us that’s why you knocked five grand off the price. It wasn’t paved when we put it up for sale either, duh!

The most wonderful part of the selling, however, had to be the mad panic to make the house look like it leapt off of the pages of Better Homes and Gardens magazine for every viewing by a prospective buyer. There is nothing quite as wonderful as walking in the door at five o’clock at night, after having gotten up at three in the morning to hear “Showing tomorrow at ten, could you vacuum?” or spending your entire Sunday cleaning to pretty up the house for a showing on Monday morning. Just once, when someone came to look at the house I wanted to be sitting on the couch in my underwear in front of the TV, watching a football game, chunks of pretzels all over my belly, and a half empty beer helmet on my head, emblazoned with a “Go Raiders!” sticker on the side. I would look up when they came in, and spitting my beer straw out of my mouth, I would say: “What? This is what you’re going to be doing here once you own it!” I am sure the wife would be mortified, but the husband, he’d understand it. You goddamn right he would.

Once the sale has happened, things get nasty quick. First, it is decided by the powers that be (not you, if you are the husband) that everyone should go through everything they own and separate it into items to keep, items to donate to charity, items to throw out, and items to go into the “Going-to-pay-for-the-new–stuff-at-the-new-house-garage-sale.” Garbage Garage Sale. Even writing the words just now is causing me to break out into a cold sweat. What an epically colossal waste of fucking time. As it so happens, no one comes to a Garbage Garage Sale intending to spend over ten dollars, and they plan to leave with no less than five items for that ten dollars. They are all also hoping to one day appear on Antiques Roadshow and tell the host: “I found this at a garage sale. I bought it off the moron for like, two bucks!” And the haggling, oh the haggling. Sample exchange between a prospective customer and myself:

Customer: “This Sony Vaio laptop says two dollars on the price tag. Will you take a dollar for it?”

Me: “How about I smash the laptop over your head and pry the two dollars out of your hand to cover the damages?” and then out loud: “I have to ask my wife.”

Customer: “I changed my mind, I wasn’t planning on spending that much for a top of the line laptop.”

Me: “Fuck you.” and then out loud: “ Thank you, come again!”

That’s two Friday evenings and one Saturday morning I will never be able to get back. The very best part of the Garbage Garage Sale is that afterward, you get to sort all the leftovers into items to keep, items to donate to charity, and items to throw out. Good times.

Garage Sale Look at all the stuff! Look at all the stuff nobody wants! Hey, that’s pretty much all of it!

After crushing all of the dreams of new goodies financed by the garage sale, it’s time to pack up! If you are a woman, that means that three or four weeks before you move, ninety percent of the items in the house are boxed and ready to be moved, or have been sold. This lets the family spend it’s last weeks in the home living like European backpackers, eating dry toast and leftover condiment packages from drive-thrus and wearing the same clothes they had on when the “sold” sign went up. When the big day arrives to start moving, everyone pitches in to help, except teenagers, whose contribution seems to consist entirely of laying on the couch to make it heavier to put in the moving van, and randomly yelling: “Are we going to eat soon?” The one upside of packing all of the shit off to the new house is I now know the exact weight of every item we own: heavy. A lot of times I’m sure it pays to just hire the pros, like these guys:

Nice packing job They offered to move us for ten bucks and two forged Canadian passports. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to come up with the ten bucks, and I still owe my cousin for the passports. Anyone else out there named Firin’ Explosama or Farouk Al-Waxmani?

Once everything has been packed into the new house, all you have to do is unpack it and put it away, which is the easiest part by far, as long as you hide out in a seedy bar somewhere and don’t participate. Oh, and while you are unpacking, you will have to separate everything into items to keep, items to donate to charity, and items to throw away. You will also need to attend couples’ counseling for a year, or maybe even retain the services of a divorce lawyer. As far as moving’s location goes on a list of “Fun Stuff to Do,” I would rank it somewhere between jumper cable clamps on the ball sack and a Cher/Celine Dion double bill evening in Vegas. If I could give any advice about selling your house and moving it would be simple:

  • Torch the old place and everything in it and get new shit with the insurance money.
  • Have someone torch the old place and everything in it for you and get new shit with the insurance money.
  • Have a Bighorn Sheep repeatedly head butt you in the nuts to simulate the moving experience and get you in shape to tackle it.
  • Stay right where you are. Seriously. Don’t even think about it.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Fall TV Season Preview, “I Wish” Edition

Deadliest Catch

In Season 6 of the popular Discovery Channel reality series, “Deadliest Catch,” the hardened crews of the Cornelia Marie, Northwestern, and Time Bandit come up against their biggest challenge yet. “Deadliest Catch: Celebrity Greenhorns” finds the crews not only battling horrific conditions at sea, but having to make do with their most useless group of greenhorns to date. The celebrity greenhorns each appear in two-episode arcs; a short teaser preview of the upcoming season’s episodes is provided here:

The first celebrity greenhorn is former Governor of Alaska and Republican Presidential Campaign Cancer Sarah Palin:

Fishy, fishy in the brook... “I’ve done some trollin’ and I’ve had crabs. Qualified? You Betcha!”

Episode 1: Tentatively titled “Palin Bailin’.” Ep. 1 begins with Palin getting to know the crew of the Cornelia Marie, and settling in to life as a crab fisherman. She soon finds out it is a far cry from her more familiar existence as a person who likes fishing and has crabs. Humorous moments include: a heated debate about gay marriage and gun laws with surprisingly liberal Captain Phil Harris; the crew tricks Palin into attempting to keep the water off the deck with a thimble as thirty foot seas repeatedly batter her against icy crab pots and stacks of gear; Palin catches the crew engaged in a rock-paper-scissors tournament to decide if she would be more useful as a marker float or as bait.

Episode 2: Tentatively titled “Palin Flailin’.” Ep. 2 finds the crew playing more greenhorn tricks on Palin, such as having her take a ride down in a crab pot to “see if there are any crabs around down there.” Palin also provides comic relief in a segment in which she refuses repeatedly to get into the bait mulcher despite the crew’s insistence that it is part of the greenhorn’s “job description.” Finally relenting, Palin agrees to go through the bait mulcher “If it will help out, I guess” leading to the crew enjoying their best laugh in 5 terrifying seasons at sea.

Episodes 3 and 4 find popular child stars and current Hollywood punchlines Corey Feldman and Corey Haim traveling to Dutch Harbor to take to the seas with the Northwestern, helmed by surly Scandinavy-something Sig Hansen:

The Two Coreys“Get this straight. He’s the one with the drug problem. I’ve got the ego problem. Kapeesh?”

Episode 3: Tentatively titled “Where’s Corey?" Ep. 3 opens with the crew of the Northwestern scouring Dutch Harbor for Haim, who, it is reported by Feldman: “Said he had to go use the bathroom when we got off the plane, I haven’t seen him since.” The crew locates Haim passed out in a snowy field near a couple of huffed-out cans of Lysol, drags him to the boat and heads out to the fishing grounds. Highlights of this episode include: Haim tries to cut the worms out of his arms with a potato peeler after six drug-free hours at sea; Feldman causes a Northwestern crew member to jump into the unforgiving stormy ocean after Corey spends four hours of the trip to the fishing grounds outlining his “comeback plan” to the unfortunate fisherman.

Episode 4: Tentatively titled “Now where the fuck is Corey?” Ep. 4 begins with Northwestern Captain Sig Hansen telling Haim he will give him a “big rock” of crack if Haim gives “a round of blowjobs to the boys and one sea urchin.” After completing his challenge, Haim amuses the crew with his attempts to get a dime-sized piece of rock salt, given to him as payment by Hansen, to “cook” on the galley’s hot plate. Highlights involving Feldman include him slipping on the icy deck and breaking his nose on the steel edge of a crab pot. The crew rolls on the deck in laughter at his cries of: “My face! My beautiful face!” Even narrator Mike Rowe sounds like he's talking through a grin. The episode ends on a low note, however when Haim, butt-naked and twitching heavily, informs Hansen he needs to “Go down to the corner store to pick up some milk. I’ll be right back.”, seconds before leaping over the side. Hansen expresses regret at Haim “not doing that sooner, and taking his bum-buddy with him.” As the episode ends, Haim’s fate is unknown.

It looks like another suspenseful, exciting season of Deadliest Catch. As expected, the celebrities look like they will up the “fun quotient” a bit this season. Having these seasoned performers appear on the show is sure to delight fans of all ages with their hilarious highjinks, maiming, and comically tragic disappearances.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Having a Bad Day? It Could be a Hell of a Lot Worse…

Every once in a while I start to feel a little sorry for myself. I’m sure we all do at times. Maybe you haven’t achieved the goals you set out to in life, or haven’t felt like life has been going your way recently. Hell, maybe that racketeering conviction stuck on appeal. You’re going to have to spend a little stretch in a maximum security lockdown, and you haven’t been doing nearly enough pushups to fight off your giant future cell-mate’s ass-plundering advances. You should have been in the gym, instead of listening to that two-bit shyster you hired that promised you would walk.

Obviously, we’ve all made some bad decisions that we have lived to regret in one way or another. Or are about to regret, in an excruciatingly painful, and humiliating way. Fortunately, at times like this, we can take solace in the fact that we’ve never made decisions this bad:

It's all fun and games.....Marnie had always dreamed of competing in the X Games. A long time lover of extreme sports, the Nearly Nude Wooden Nipple Clamp Downhill Thong Luge had been her obsession for years. She wasn’t prepared for the size of the big blue-tipped nipple clamps used in professional competition however, and she was distracted by the how the bright red helmet she was forced to wear clashed with her pink ass cheeks and pendulous rosy boobs.

Sadly, throughout years of dedicated practice, she had also not taught herself how to stop. Shortly after this picture was taken, she speared through a portable hot dog cart at roughly sixty miles per hour. Unfortunately, the impact did not immediately take her life, and she suffered the horror of a slow death by scalding sauerkraut water. In a final indignity, she was awarded last place in the competition. As per official X Games policy, anyone dying in an event receives a last place standing, and multiple deaths result in a tie for last place. Godspeed, Marnie.

Klingons in our midst.

This sad fellow above, is former Klingon Army Master Corporal Robert Sliizaaqquia. He is pictured here in a polaroid shot by a New York City SWAT Team member shortly before his death in a hail of beanbags, rubber bullets, flash-bang grenades, and repeated tazer shockings. It turns out that if you use enough different non-lethal methods of force at once, they can actually be lethal in combination. It’s interesting what you find out in the field.

Anyway, back to Robert. After being dishonorably discharged from the Klingon Military for failing to maintain acceptable fitness standards, Robert had fallen into a deep depression and had become prone to spending long hours in his favourite comfortable folding chair in front of his computer, watching carp porn (it’s a Klingon thing). A friend that had left his apartment shortly before the incident above stated that Robert had been attempting to be more positive of late and had been preparing to take a picture of himself for his just-opened Lavalife profile. Robert felt that the Klingon Military Formal Dress would be most appropriate for the picture, explaining his state of attire shown above. The friend stated that Robert had expressed a desire to “Get himself back out there, and mix it up a bit.”

When the police knocked on Robert’s door (by mistake actually, they had intended to do a kick-in at the drug dealer’s apartment next door), he answered and followed the accepted Klingon practice of offering his guests a gun. A very polite, but very bad decision, indeed. His death was not in vain, however, as SWAT teams have now adopted the practice of writing down the address of a planned assault instead of someone saying “I’ll remember it.” It is truly interesting what you can learn in the field. Thank you, Robert.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

It’s Canada D’eh! (Well, a d’eh late).

It’s It was our nations 142nd birthday today yesterday! In honour of this momentous occasion, this post will celebrate all a few things Canadian, and maybe even some things we wish weren’t Canadian. While we are at it, we will enjoy some pictures of the fantastic scenery to be found around this great country of ours. Then, when we are done, we will head outdoors to finish off the day celebrating Canada Day in traditional Canuck style with hot dogs, softball, poorly attended parades, and blind drunkenness. If we still have some time left over, we might even tell our loved ones what we really think of them. Fun!

First, let’s start off with some of the things that make us proud to be from the Great White North:

CheeziesCheezies. They are so good, only half the bag made the photo shoot. They also come in handy if the power goes out and you should need a candle, or a campfire. Yup, they burn that good. Real slow like.

Huge Beaver!

Giant Beavers. Not to be confused with ridiculously oversized vaginas. That is a topic for a completely different but nonetheless extremely important post.

Government Ice Checker

Our hard-working government employees. I took this picture of a uniformed Canadian Coast Guard Ice-Checker out my front window this morning. They even work on our nation’s birthday!

Canada is also know the world over for its stunning scenery and awe-inspiring landscapes. Some of our world famous landmarks include the Rocky Mountains, Niagara Falls, and Pamela Anderson’s magically expanding and contracting chest. Another interesting fact about Canada is that it shares the world’s longest undefended border with our friends to the south, the United States. Just in case our American neighbours should find this fact disturbing, due to fear of terrorists using Canada as a launch pad for activities in the States, there is no need to worry.

Although technically undefended, the US-Canada border is watched over by thousands of stone-faced, humourless, tight-assed border guards who are deftly skilled in the art of stupid question asking. If there is one test a terrorist fears more than any other, it is answering stupid questions. More than one suicide bomber has accidentally answered a US Border Guard’s skillfully worded question: “Y’all got a receipt for that bag of Cheezies?” with: “I come to destroy you, infidel!” resulting in their immediate arrest and deportation the sixteen feet back into Canada. Asinine questions are like Kryptonite to terrorists. If those of you reading this in the States should have any further concerns, we hope you sleep better at night knowing that Canada has recently spent literally thousands of dollars upgrading our border security measures, as shown by this photo of our new, state-of-the-art border crossing facility at Beaverlodge, Alberta:

Quirpon island lighthouse, strait of Belle isle, quirpon island, newfoundland, canada “Did you hear a knock?” “No, I didn’t hear a knock.” “Phew! Thank goodness, eh. I heard terrorists always knock first before coming in.”

Well this has been just a short list of the things that make this great country so special and super-interesting. I feel like I would be remiss if I didn’t also pay tribute to a few famous Canadians who make their livings far from home. Although they might be feeling a little nostalgic today about their homeland, I would like to assure them on behalf of all Canadians that there is no hurry to rush back. In fact, feel free to stay right where you are. Forever if need be.

Ce-leee-na

Seriously, Celine. Caesar’s will miss you if you leave. Just stay. Stay right there.

Shaffer

C’mon, Paul. What would Dave do if you left? I mean really, it’s not like retarded monkeys grow on trees you know. You should totally stay. Totally.

All joking aside (except for Shaffer and Celine, them I wasn’t joking about), the people we should take a moment to think about today are our men and women of the Canadian Armed Forces serving in Afghanistan. Despite what you might think about the reasons for our country going there, these people are putting their lives in harm’s way to try and help the Afghan people claim some of the freedoms that we take for granted. Showing support for the members of our armed forces is not jingoistic, misguided patriotism. It is a sign of respect for the boots on the ground, and the danger they face each day. Until Afghan girls can go to school without the fear of acid being sprayed in their face or witnessing their teacher being beheaded in the front of their classroom, these people are willing, able, and ready to help. They do so with pride and respect for the Afghan people, and return tour after tour, hoping to make a difference. Will it all work out? Who knows? I hope so. Until then, let’s take a second to remember how good we have it, and wish our forces a safe and happy homecoming, one day soon, I hope. Let’s also hope they can leave behind a safe and free Afghanistan, so their sacrifices will have been worth something.

Fallen Comrades Hang in there and be safe.