Oughta Knocked on Wood
I had to open my mouth. My Iraqi Counterpart that I liked was replaced after all. I should have knocked on wood. I’ve not had much of any chance to work with the new one. I don’t know him. We’re getting new faces. I’m going to pry where this guy came from. There are other Iraqi WO’s, that we have had a while, but they are not the ones being put in charge. Some of these guy’s I like, but they shift responsibility.
I don’t like prying. I’d like to be told stuff right out. But, here, if you want the truth, you have to pry. Then you have to ask the question three different way’s to get the close to right answer. “Truth is the first casualty of war” in many different ways.
Iraqis will throw trash down where ever they want, such as a guard post. It piles up. Then it’s time to clean it up, and the blame game gets started. I’ve been inspecting the posts every morning this week. The Iraqi Counterpart follows me. In the morning, it’s his. Now he has to take the lead. We’re trying to get more trash cans for them, but, they are going to have to empty them out themselves. Contractor Life Support is very lacking here.
Just like me and my Brother
The other morning as we were posting Guards some Jundis from the night shift got to playing rough throwing water bottles and yelling. I thought they were fighting and broke up the fight. (When I was a Drill Sgt. I had two Privates that were fighting hold hands in front of the Company) “Maku Mishkula, Mister”. My Interpreter told me they said “stop, the American is coming”. My last counterpart didn’t step up. I had to tell him not to let them play that way. When I was a kid me and my Brother would play and one of us would get hurt and it would turn into a real fight (Ain’t that right, Bro). These guy’s have AK47’s with live rounds. If the general took their TV’s away because they were fighting over the news, then they shouldn’t play in such a way.
The Arabic language is an excited one. Often I’ve asked my Interpreter what they are arguing about, only to be reaffirmed that they are just talking. If you want to show them you mean business, you have to pound your fist on something. People may not know what to think of me when I get back.
Once Upon a Time In Appalachia…
This Blog is about Appalachia as much as anything. I’ve discussed most everything but it lately, even Women’s Lingerie. Which reminds me of another annoying tag, but more on that later. I was eating hot wings in the chow hall and got to thinking about Wasbi Peanuts. Once while off Bear Hunting in the Nantahala’s Twister offered me some. I threw a handful in my mouth. I’m not broadly food educated. I didn’t know what Wasbi Pea Nuts were. Hey, they’re green, what could they hurt? Well, it hurt my mouth. Those things are just plain hot. I had a mouthful of fire. We ain’t talking about cinnamon balls either. Twister sees the tears well in my eyes as I roll down the truck window. He laughs loudly as I forcefully blow the things out of my mouth and down the side of the mountain. He does that to me again, I’m handing him a live squirrel or something. He did about knock my ear drums out with a 12.Ga blasting at Grouse once. The thing about this is we were two people from Appalachia doing Appalachian things in Appalachia.
Oh, yeah, that annoying tag
We have something great, heavy weight Polypropylenes. But, for some reason they sew the tag right in the seam of the bottoms. You Military and former Military know that those tags are stiff. Well, you can only imagine where they go…Yeah, were not getting that personal. As a result I tear them out. They probably put them there for that very purpose. We want to take care of our Soldiers, but, it’s funny if it ain’t comfortable…
I may have posted about my painful Wasbi experience. For some reason I got to thinking about it today.
That’s all I’m saying for right now
The Appalachianist,
15 Comments:
I had something poetic to say and the phone rang. Yeah, its the delightful pain of a shared memory of hunting in the mountains and an incident remembered like cornbread baked in a skillet or country stake pounded and fried to melt apart in your mouth and collard greens and everything Southern. It's the mountains and a moment shared with a friend. It's Appalachia. It's the something you can't spit out and don't want to.
Bill, your making me hungry. I tell you, I sure wanted to spit out those pea nuts. I'd spit em' out again. No regrets.
I can't imagine where they go or even what it is that they are but it sounds like something you put on your bottom half. How stiff can a tag be and why can't you cut it off?
Mur, they are the bottom half. You can tare them out. As I said, I do.
Uh Oh!! Better take those wasabi peas out of your care pack! ( :
Those cans aren't cheap...and many a Soldier loves them.
I've been so tempted to send boxes upon boxes of Hefty garbage bags for Soldiers to give out to the Iraqis. (just saying...)
I sure liked the line Bill wrote about Appalachia.
Yeah, Twister carries around some pretty exotic snacks for hunting. This year it was Sardines in mustard. I just go hungry for the most part.
Janie, frankly, those bags would be hung up on some fence somewhere. Theres a joke that the national flag is a black trash bag waving on a chain link fence. The national flower is an empty water bottle.
Better get started.
Oh, yeah. I do thank you forthe packages, Janie.
You spit out the wasabi peas but not the memory I was trying to say . . . in my awkward way, but mustard sardines? As a young boy I rode an old white mule to the house from a two acre field of newly plowed corn (I had plowed it all morning). No one was home and I made a meal of mustard sardines and stewed tomatoes and some old saltine crackers. I was starved and I remembered that meal for years. I still remember it but without so much enthusiasm. Mustard sardines . . . ummmmmm ummmmm good! (My leg cramped up getting off the mule and I fell off at the porch . . . another story:) TAKE CARE!
That's quite a meal, Bill. One of my most interesting is I was dating a girl that had a baby son. I was waiting for her to get ready once, and it was taking forever...You know what I mean...I got hungry. The only thing she had in the fridge was some loaf bread, gummy bears and milk. I ate a gummy bear sandwich. She caught me, and got mad...She was part Italian, you know how they are. She was a poor single mother and ate with her folks most of the time, so her cupboards were bare.
Hey...did you edit that last part after I left my comment? I could've sworn that you said that you flip them inside out when I originally read it hence the question.
Murf, I sure DIDN'T. With all of those female listening skills, I'm sure enough often misread. Are you reading too fast? You'll pick up on my English though...That's priorities. Just teasing.
i like apples to snack on while i am hunting that way when i am finished the animals have a snack also...sorry to hear you lost the one who did his job.
Kitten, is that undercover baiting? it ought to attract them.
The new one ain't so bad.
I guess I was just daydreaming during that last part about coming back in my next life as one of those tags. :)
We tare them out and throw them in the trash. Just remember, we're bad to skip showers over here.
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