Hook Dem
09-23-2004, 12:35 AM
The Commandant of the Marine Corps was General Al Gray, a crusty
> old "Field Marine." He loved his Marines and often slipped into the mess
> hall
> wearing a faded old field jacket without any rank insignia on it. He would
> go
> through the chow line just like a private. (In this way, he was assured of
> being
> given the same rations that the lowest enlisted man received. And, woe be
> it to the mess officer if the food was found to be "unfit in quality or
> quantity.")
>
> Upon becoming commandant, General Gray was expected to do a great deal
> of "formal entertaining," fancy dinner parties in full dress blue
> uniform. Now, the general would rather have been in the field eating
> cold "C-rats" around a fighting hole with a bunch of young "hard
> charging" Marines. But, the General knew his duty, and as a Marine, he
> was determined to do it to the best of his ability.
>
> During these formal parties a detachment of highly polished Marines from
> "Eighth and Eye" (Marine Barracks located at 8th and I Streets in
> Washington, D.C.) were detailed to assume the position of "parade rest"
> at various intervals around the ballroom where the festivities were
> being held. At some point during one of these affairs, a very refined,
> big-chested, blue haired lady picked up a tray of pastry and went around
> the room offering confections to the guests. When she noticed these
Marines
> in dress blues, standing like sculptures all around the room, she was
moved
> with admiration. She knew that several of these men were fresh from our
> victory in Desert Storm.
>
> She made a beeline for the closest lance corporal. As she drew near him
> she asked, "Would you like a pastry young man?"
>
> The young Marine snapped to "attention" and replied, "I don't eat that
> sh*t, Ma'am." Just as quickly, he resumed the position of "parade rest".
> His gaze remained fixed on some distant point throughout the exchange.
> The fancy lady was taken aback! She blinked, her eyes widened, her mouth
> dropped open.
>
> So startled was she that she immediately began to doubt what she had
> heard. In a quivering voice she asked, "W-W-What did you say?"
>
> The Marine snapped back to the position "attention" (like the arm of a
> mouse trap smacking it's wooden base). Then he said, "I don't eat that
> sh*t Ma'am." And, just as smartly as before, back to the position of
> "parade rest" he went.
>
> This time, there was no doubt. The fancy lady immediately became
> incensed, and felt insulted. After all, here she was an important lady,
> taking the time to offer something nice to this enlisted man (well below
> her station in life). And he had the nerve to say THAT to HER! She
> exclaimed,
> "Well! I never...!"
>
> The fancy lady remembered that she had met "that military man who was
> over all these 'soldiers' a little earlier. She spotted General Gray
> from across the room. He had a cigar clenched between his teeth and a
> camouflaged canteen cup full of liquor in his left hand. He was talking
> to a group of 1st and 2nd lieutenants.
>
> The blue haired lady went straight over to the commandant and
> interrupted, "General, I offered some pastry to that young man over
> there. And, do you know what he told me?"
>
> General Gray cocked his eyebrow, took the cigar out of his mouth and
> said, "Well, no Ma'am. I don't."
>
> The lady took in a deep breath, confident that she was expressing with
> her body language her rage and indignation. As she wagged her head in
> cadence with her words, and she paused between each word for effect, "He
> said, I - don't - eat - that - sh*t - Ma'am!"
>
> The lieutenants standing there were in a state of flux. A couple of them
> choked back chuckles, and turned their heads to avoid having their
> smirks detected. The next thought that most of them had was, "God,
>
> I hope it wasn't one of MY Marines!", and the color left their faces.
>
> General Gray wrinkled his brow, cut his eyes in the direction of the
> Lieutenants', put his free hand to his chin and expelled a subdued,
> "Hummm." "Which one did you say it was Ma'am?", the General asked.
>
> "That tall sturdy one right over there near the window, General," the
> woman said with smug satisfaction. One of the lieutenants began to look
> sick and put a hand on the wall for support. General Gray, seemed deep
> in thought, hand still to his chin, wrinkled brow. Suddenly, he looked
> up, his expression changed to one indicating he had made a decision. He
> looked the fancy lady right in the eyes and said, "Well, f*ck him! Don't
> give him any."
:rollin
> old "Field Marine." He loved his Marines and often slipped into the mess
> hall
> wearing a faded old field jacket without any rank insignia on it. He would
> go
> through the chow line just like a private. (In this way, he was assured of
> being
> given the same rations that the lowest enlisted man received. And, woe be
> it to the mess officer if the food was found to be "unfit in quality or
> quantity.")
>
> Upon becoming commandant, General Gray was expected to do a great deal
> of "formal entertaining," fancy dinner parties in full dress blue
> uniform. Now, the general would rather have been in the field eating
> cold "C-rats" around a fighting hole with a bunch of young "hard
> charging" Marines. But, the General knew his duty, and as a Marine, he
> was determined to do it to the best of his ability.
>
> During these formal parties a detachment of highly polished Marines from
> "Eighth and Eye" (Marine Barracks located at 8th and I Streets in
> Washington, D.C.) were detailed to assume the position of "parade rest"
> at various intervals around the ballroom where the festivities were
> being held. At some point during one of these affairs, a very refined,
> big-chested, blue haired lady picked up a tray of pastry and went around
> the room offering confections to the guests. When she noticed these
Marines
> in dress blues, standing like sculptures all around the room, she was
moved
> with admiration. She knew that several of these men were fresh from our
> victory in Desert Storm.
>
> She made a beeline for the closest lance corporal. As she drew near him
> she asked, "Would you like a pastry young man?"
>
> The young Marine snapped to "attention" and replied, "I don't eat that
> sh*t, Ma'am." Just as quickly, he resumed the position of "parade rest".
> His gaze remained fixed on some distant point throughout the exchange.
> The fancy lady was taken aback! She blinked, her eyes widened, her mouth
> dropped open.
>
> So startled was she that she immediately began to doubt what she had
> heard. In a quivering voice she asked, "W-W-What did you say?"
>
> The Marine snapped back to the position "attention" (like the arm of a
> mouse trap smacking it's wooden base). Then he said, "I don't eat that
> sh*t Ma'am." And, just as smartly as before, back to the position of
> "parade rest" he went.
>
> This time, there was no doubt. The fancy lady immediately became
> incensed, and felt insulted. After all, here she was an important lady,
> taking the time to offer something nice to this enlisted man (well below
> her station in life). And he had the nerve to say THAT to HER! She
> exclaimed,
> "Well! I never...!"
>
> The fancy lady remembered that she had met "that military man who was
> over all these 'soldiers' a little earlier. She spotted General Gray
> from across the room. He had a cigar clenched between his teeth and a
> camouflaged canteen cup full of liquor in his left hand. He was talking
> to a group of 1st and 2nd lieutenants.
>
> The blue haired lady went straight over to the commandant and
> interrupted, "General, I offered some pastry to that young man over
> there. And, do you know what he told me?"
>
> General Gray cocked his eyebrow, took the cigar out of his mouth and
> said, "Well, no Ma'am. I don't."
>
> The lady took in a deep breath, confident that she was expressing with
> her body language her rage and indignation. As she wagged her head in
> cadence with her words, and she paused between each word for effect, "He
> said, I - don't - eat - that - sh*t - Ma'am!"
>
> The lieutenants standing there were in a state of flux. A couple of them
> choked back chuckles, and turned their heads to avoid having their
> smirks detected. The next thought that most of them had was, "God,
>
> I hope it wasn't one of MY Marines!", and the color left their faces.
>
> General Gray wrinkled his brow, cut his eyes in the direction of the
> Lieutenants', put his free hand to his chin and expelled a subdued,
> "Hummm." "Which one did you say it was Ma'am?", the General asked.
>
> "That tall sturdy one right over there near the window, General," the
> woman said with smug satisfaction. One of the lieutenants began to look
> sick and put a hand on the wall for support. General Gray, seemed deep
> in thought, hand still to his chin, wrinkled brow. Suddenly, he looked
> up, his expression changed to one indicating he had made a decision. He
> looked the fancy lady right in the eyes and said, "Well, f*ck him! Don't
> give him any."
:rollin