Living in their little overseas ivory towers, considering anyone in an American uniform their serf, they deign to entertain you with their presence.
Fuck liberty. Fuck the 18-year-old professional who’d rather hit the beach after 2 and a half months away from the U.S. than stand at attention for 3 hours so the Ambassador can impress foreign nationals.
Fuck the guy who’s responsible for planning the visit. Fuck the two hours they decided to add on to a tour which started as a quick familiarization visit. Fuck the aircrew who’ve got to wait around 5 hours before the Ambassador decides to depart. Fuck flying planes 'cause we can’t move the Ambassador’s plane from the waist cat.
Oh. And let’s do it for three consecutive days too! Gotta make sure that the Ambassador’s son’s teacher’s assistant knows just how powerful the Ambassador is.
And that spooky little ambassador’s brat, too. Sheesh. Little fucker goes around cutting people’ sheads off with panes of glass and spiking them with weather vanes.
And that fucking “666” birthmark? Don’t even get me started!
(Sorry, Chief. I feel for you, man. Well, I would if I had any personal experience with the bullshit you get to deal with. But I take your word for it. So I feel for you.)
There is a lot less of that sort of thing in AF intell, but what there is sucks. I know that Bluesman really hates it when he has to put on a “dog and pony show” instead of doing his job.
Not since I retired on February 29, 2000, Chief. But if your ship manages to have a port-of-call in Diego Garcia over the next twelve months, look me up. I’ll be in the Officer’s Club.