Friendly Fire

It's our favorite dumpster diver Ghost of Keywork with another review.

Your blog, miltrucker, is lacking.

I did my four years on active duty, quit your bitching. The Motherfucking National Guard? Fuck, don't get me started. I would thank you for your service, but I can't get over all of your whining. Dude, I'm sorry you have to leave loved ones. I'm sorry you have to go play soldier every now and then. I did my time in the Marine Corps, and I was stuck with a few guys that whined a lot. Guess what? They had a fucking reason to. They served in a full time capacity. I'm glad you have a decent job in the civilian world. I'm happy you didn't have to live permanently on one of our fine military installations, on-call all the fucking time. Tampon. Ok, done. On to your blog.

This, friend, is not a blog. You have a journal, wolfman. You write for people that know you personally. Nothing wrong with that. But put a fucking lock on it, churchboy. I have to assume, from your content, that you thought we would be handing out medals to any uniformed personnel that graced us with a peek at military life. No dice, man. Not when you go on and on about where you are training, what you are training for, jesusbitchfuckyourplatoonleader. Opsec. Remember that shit, soldier? Lock it up, nasty. Make your blog private if you insist on flagging your fellow Guardsmen/women. Save it until your contract is up. Again, let me get back to your journal.

Blogs are typically written to entertain, engage, capture an audience. You have an audience of two, from what I can tell. I didn't find more than five comments on any of your posts, and I dug. Please, please, please, keep this shit to yourself in your green book. How do I know about your green book? Because I have a few of my own, soldier. I kept a journal while I was deployed. I'm not linking any of your posts because I don't really believe that you ever intended to reach out to new readers. Save those green books. Then I suggest you take a creative writing course or five and find your voice before you start dumping your rat-fucked posts all over the blogosphere. Take some time, some pride in your work. Nothing wrong with editing.

When you do find your voice, lose that fucking template. I know you love wolves. I get it. But when I look at your blog, well, the wolf fucks it all up. Try something like black type on a white background. Make it user friendly, this isn't another Myspace page. This blog should be for you, by you. I felt like you didn't really let me know who you really are. I bet you're a stand-up guy, really, you seem to be a good father, you have a great support group, talk to me. Stop this charade. Dig a little deeper, I think you have some great shit stuck in that brain housing unit of yours. Stop focusing on the meaningless shit: location, this-then-that, I don't give a shit about your schedule and neither will anyone else. Start painting us a picture. Sights, sounds, tastes, smells, appeal to our senses. I could write six pages about a two hour machine gun range. You are not the only mil-blogger out there. If you really want to effect the masses, give them something new. The public can get on the internet, and in fifteen minutes, tell you more about weapons systems than you ever could. Put your brush on it soldier.

I'm taking it easy on you, because the world needs more of our story. Yes, I said 'our'. You and I, well, we have experienced things that most never will. You hit on some of that, good on ya. Now get to the rest of it. You owe it to those that can't, won't, or don't have the opportunity to serve their country.

Yeah. I'm not done with you, soldier. I just built you up a bit, now I'm gonna break you down again. If you're going to whine, do your brothers a favor and whine to them, or yourself. You signed that fucking contract. How fucking dare you cry on the internet about scheduling conflicts, soldier? You are a tampon, and when you are being used, you need to understand the great opportunity you are being given. I know a lot of people that would die to get that chance. Guess what? They have physical or mental disabilities that prevent them from doing so. I know guys that sat in Med Hold for nearly a year, trying to heal just to make it through boot camp. I don't know what the general attitude is in the Army, but I sincerely hope that you don't represent the majority. When you get home, take a shower, bitch to your girlfriend. Why? Because it looks bad on the rest of your Army coworkers. Really, don't cheapen the bonds you have formed. Look, I'm a Marine, your moaning doesn't effect my image. But think about those goddamned eighteen year old kids, ready to serve and die, before you whine about getting 'bruised up' a week before a PFT. Suck it up.

For your blog, you're getting an Abercrombie Moose.








I don't get to judge you on a personal level, so I won't. Lucky you.