So I am supposed to write something – whatever pops into my defective head – upon seeing this picture. To be honest, my head about exploded, because Awesome Robot, and because Awesome Safe Sex. Actually, the second one not so much or so awesome, because No Junk Access (JA). Junk Access is important during sex, or so I seem to recall. I digress…Okay, I’ll stop bullshitting, because if you’ve landed here then you’re probably an Olympic-Class Bullshitter (OCB) yourself. Sort of like Howard the ‘Tard (HtT).
I have to admit, Chris found a photo of me. Yes, I know, but I think we all know that Rants (uhm, Me) is a more mature yet less refined blogger who happens to be in the Army. This picture caused me some bemused anal leakage (age issue) and muted pride, which I immediately destroyed (the pride, not the leakage) because Army team players have no sense of self-worth. That is simply not authorized, there being no “I” in “TEAM.” Digressing…
This ancient photo was taken circa 1993, just after my commissioning. A young officer, I was unjaded and enthusiastic. I knew that with pluck, my epic combat moustache (CM) and condoms, I could change the world. On the pluck side, I determined that if I could protect Soldiers in combat, I’d be famous, or at least sort-of, and thereby expend my three-pack of condoms. I set to my task assiduously.
You can see the result: a full-body combat suit of death, complete with nasty enemy-gutting hooks and Anti-Stooges-Eye-Jab Protection (ASEJP). I initially made those hooks of wood, with the intent to dip them in monkey feces, thereby inflicting a painful and hopelessly-infected wounds upon the enemy. The Army board chastised me for my lack of consideration of storage, cleaning, and the prohibitive cost of importing monkey shit. Ultimately, I chose a lovely 18-8 stainless.
Then the board noted the rubberized movement-joint apertures (MJA) located strategically near the Male Junk Area (MJA). I countered with the idea of the huge cylindrical Urine Repository Unit (URU) at the waist, allowing wanton killing and defeating of foes for hours without need of a handy tree and unzipping, or unbuttoning as the case may be in the MJA². The board was titillated, to say the least.
The problem came during Low-Rate Production Trials (LRPT). The sheer weight of the cast iron (easy clean-up with table salt and later seasoning with an oven and olive oil) made only the Rantiest Soldiers able to charge the foe with their stainless hooks of doom. I quickly improvised a winch system connected to a farm vehicle (a potato-sucker-outer (PSO)) that would assist the combatant during battle.
Sadly, the PSO exposed the required operator to dangerous things like bullets, enemy farts, monkey feces, and Columbus, Ohio. I added armor plating to the PSO, which helped. Then the board wanted weapons, so I added a machine-gun (MG). They said the gun needed to be bigger, and that the tyres (because they were imported British ones and more expensive than monkey shit) had to be replaced. I added tracks on sprockets, driven by an engine.
The whole Armored PSO (APSO) became so unwieldy that a driver and crewman were needed to help the APSO Commander operate. At this point, the Army board looked at me and said, “Rants, for someone so young, and with such a dry tool, you are whelmingly bright.” (not over- or under-whelmed, they meant).
I thanked them and asked for additional verbal abuse (VA) and I was mocked for my unopened condoms. Once complete, they concluded that because I’d failed to create a name (and hence an acronym) for my Suit of Death (SOD, I later sighed), they would only take the APSO.
The Chairman remarked, “I don’t see the need for an acronym-less suit of death when we have this fully-weaponized APSO.” He said it quietly, but I heard him anyway. “Give the suit to the panzie Air Force.” I heard that, too (IHTT).
I was ultimately exiled to Texas, while the board chair took my collateral APSO idea for himself. I think his name was Abrams, but I’m not sure.
You can tell me I didn’t help, but I’ll die believing I invented the tank. The Panzie Air Force did something space-related with the suit, but I’m not entirely sure, and the Navy rejected it because they had no idea what to use it for and because two men couldn’t get inside facing each other at once.