Holy Pigeon Crap!

In my opinion (which is the only thing that really matters) Pigeons are the Heroes of the Year. After just three shitty songs by our beloved Kings of Leon, it seems that even the Pigeons couldn't stand the thought of listening to any more shit, so in turn, they crapped in the bassist's mouth. I guess if doves symbolize peace, pigeons must symbolize war - war on everything that is unholy in this world i.e. Kings of Leon.

Just a tremendously lucky coincidence? Karma even? Or a well orchestrated prank by a pigeon lover and Kings of Leon hater? I hope it is the latter, and if so, I congratulate you Pigeon Man, wherever you are. 


Remember, Karma isn't through with you yet, Kings of Leon.

-Danny

Toilet-Sick

like home-sick, but with toilets.

Happy Endings

As my last week in Bagram fast approaches, I want to make sure that I take full advantage of my presence here and buy some Afghan rugs, scarves, small trinkets, and get a massage at the local Spa!

Ive bought my handmade rug which came all the way from Herat, Afghanistan (or China if I flip it over and find a tag). I've purchased several scarves with different colors and patterns. And I am still working on getting some trinkets, in whatever form those may come (I just tried not to end in a preposition and I sound like a jackass. Stupid English grammar). And lastly, I just received a massage from a woman from Kyrgyzstan.

Kyrgyzstan is an interesting country. In the wikipedia page under "Traditions" you can find the time honored tradition of Bride Kidnapping. I suppose that's a pretty good reason to flee your country and come to work as a masseuse in a war zone. I bet those riots earlier this summer could be another reason.

Anyways, what makes a massage here worthwhile is the price. A full body massage lasting one hour costs a remarkable $20. Since my body has accumulated and experienced plenty of stress while in Afghanistan I thought getting a massage could help relieve some of it. The small Kyrgyzstan woman was a lot stronger than she looked and I expect some bruising to form within the next couple days. I'll probably look like a battered child soon, and I say child since she practically made fun of how young I look. Regardless, I was more concerned with her welfare.

Can you imagine having to touch the bodies of some of these sweaty, hairy, pimply contractors (and some soldiers)? It's definitely somebody's version of hell. Of course, I was the gentleman, having arrived squeaky clean after a refreshing shower. But some of these guys don't have that kind of time. And most of them don't have the hairless back of mine either. I just imagine closing my eyes rubbing lotion all over an Afghan rug except the rug is just some really ugly, hairy dude.

-Danny

The Banana Brigade

Remember when former President George W labeled Iraq, Iran, and North Korea the Axis of Evil? (muahahaha!) Well, since Iraq seems to have lost its evil swagger, I got a perfect substitute covering an entire species of animal - Chimpanzees.

Unfortunately for these unlucky primates, they have officially been placed on my shit list after reading an article stating that "monkey soldiers are being turned into snipers at a secret Taliban training base and are in turn being rewarded with 'bananas and peanuts."

You've read that correctly, folks. The Taliban are tired of dying for Allah and entering paradise with 72 virgins, so they are going to let their primate cousins continue to wage their Islamic war on the West.

I think these Taliban leaders have watched too many bootlegged copies of Planet of the Apes. I'm sure their understanding of science is completely warped but this kind of Ape Soldier fantasy is getting to be a little ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as a sharks with laser beams.

Do I see a future in which PETA and the U.S. military form an ungodly alliance to liberate these poor ape souls? No, I'm sure they'll just locate the base and blow the shit out of it with this brand new toy.

-Danny

Thanks for ruining lunch.

Today I went to lunch to find live music playing in the middle of the chow hall. More importantly, they had philly cheesesteaks. Anyways, back to the music. So I was eating my cheesesteak and then a song started playing and repeatedly punched me in my eardrums. It was 'Use Somebody' by Kings of Leon. This has now become an open letter to these inbred rock & roll posers:

Damn you Kings of Leon for ruining the best lunch I've had all week! I guess you've finally gotten your wish for musical domination. If you're popular in Afghanistan you must be popular pretty much anywhere in the world. I can't even find a toilet with plumbing here and then out of nowhere I'm listening to your stupid whining voice about using somebody. You are the musical equivalent of those damn Twilight novels (loosely describing them as such) and films. The only people that like your music are women because they can easily put themselves into your lame uninspired music.

This is  bullshit.

I remember reading an article about how you were a disappointed about not being popular here in the states. Here's an exact quote from 2008:

"We can go to the U.K. and play all of England, literally the entire country, and it'll sell out. And then we come back home, and people are like, 'You guys are nothing.' "

That's because you are nothing you stupid idiot. Unfortunately, you've somehow found a way to hypnotize the United States into thinking you guys are better than you really are. No doubt, if there ever was a devil, you would have surely had to sell all your souls to receive any level of respectability in the music community.

Well you got your fucking wish and now you're worried about being TOOOO popular? I got a cure for that: STOP MAKING MUSIC and sell your tight leather rock star clothes and you stupid cross necklaces to some trendy consignment store in brooklyn and eat a fucking hamburger you skinny no-talent ass clowns.


P.S. Instead of posting a picture of your stupid bad boy partridge family band
I decided to post a picture that better reflected my attitude towards you: a steaming pile a bullshit.

Unsincerely yours,

Danny

Gangs of Bagram?

Judging from the scene on the left, I had assumed that some sort of new gang activity was finding its way among the rank and file of the base and this was some sort of territorial marking. If The Wire has taught us anything, it's that you don't consider a pair of shoes on a wire a childhood prank. A street gang here would definitely make sense. They could even try to pull that American Gangster shit that Denzel did.


In reality, there's a tradition in the Army that if you had a bad tour, the disgruntled soldier is supposed to write "FTA" on his boots and fling his shoes onto a cable of some sort. If you can't figure out what FTA means, it stands for 'Fuck The Army'.

A Successful Mission

Summer and the livin's easy (and so are the women)

If someone were to have some downtime in Bagram, its unlikely they would find anything exciting to do. I suppose living in a war zone is exciting enough, so I notice a lot of the guys here play with remote controlled cars. I really just don't see the appeal. I know they can't cruise the strip (the main corridor here can be loosely described as one) and holler at the ladies. Unless they're attracted to overweight, middle-aged contractors that take advantage of the buffet style chow offerings. 

Of course, that's not the entire demographic of contractors. It's a lot harder to stereotype contractors when you actually are part of this group. There are people from all over the world looking to cash in on this war, so it doesn't happen to be a strictly American quality. Some are from lesser known Baltic or Eastern European countries, many of whom are women of fertile age. This appears to be the only quality needed to attract the attention of men in this part of the world.


Sometimes I wonder if these Eastern European "contractors" are part of some seedy underground sex trafficking operation. Just today I walked by a mildly attractive lady and the guy behind her looked like the pimp from hell. I know pimps in general are supposed to be tough and mean-looking, but this guy didn't need a cane to whip your ass. He was a soldier pimp, and I wouldn't ever mess with that guy. Maybe he's ex-KGB. I think they were speaking Russian. Or maybe I'm just losing my grip on reality and I'm just ready to return home.


22 days until liberation.


-Danny

Why did the camel come to America?

I heard an interesting story the other day that might just be Afghan post office urban legend or the actual truth. It's hard to tell these days, especially with the story I'm about to regale you with. After all, there are so many imbeciles in the world that might have actually done this...

A group of guys decided to ship a conex container to the states. What was the cargo? A live camel. It took around 5 months from its depature point somewhere in the Middle East to cross half the world and arrive at its destination somewhere in the US. What was left inside, you ask? Well it wasn't cute, cuddly camel babies, just the rotting remains of the dumbest idea I've ever heard.

-Danny

Chugging Beer...

Thought we would amuse ourselves by shotgunning some beer of the non-alcoholic variety. It got pretty messy but I still wanted to keep my speed for my return.

Cheers,

-Danny

In the beginning, we were all gingers.

The other day I went to the PX to get a few necessities all of which were not in stock. To ensure that my walk there wasn't completely in vain, I did some browsing. I did find a gem that taught me a few things about astronomy, geology and human evolution (or lack thereof).

On the 7th day God created the United States of America and took pride in his remarkable achievement. But, instead of immediately putting humans on it, he decided to put them in Africa and wait hundreds of thousands of years until waves of peoples migrated to the Americas who would then be slaughtered on a biblical scale to finally make way for its true potential to eventually become the present-day United States. Also, in the beginning all humans were gingers with long flowing hair that were in remarkable shape and completely freckle-less. 

God bless you.

-Danny

TGIT - Man-Love Thursday's

When I first arrived in BAF (Bagram Airfield) I kept on hearing talk of "Man-Love Thursdays." I wasn't sure if this was a real day that the Pashtun men celebrated or just an unsubstantiated rumor. After doing some research on the interwebs, it appears that Man-Love Thursday is indeed a reality.

Basically, before the Muslim holy day (Friday) the men are free to pleasure themselves with other men. Like myself, I'm sure you are wondering how they reconcile their actions with their religious teachings. Pashtun men interpret the Islamic prohibition on homosexuality to mean they cannot "love" another man -- but that doesn't mean they can't use men for "sexual gratification."

Mahmoud: "Listen Mohammad, Thursdays have been great. You really know how to pleasure a guy, it's just that, well, you're starting to turn this into something that it's not.

Mohammad: But...my love...

Mahmoud: Dammit, Mohammad! I'm Serious! Remember, we only do this on Thursdays, otherwise, the other guys in the village are gonna start to ask questions and think we're gay. And if that happens they're literally gonna have our heads on a stick. Remember what happened to Omar? Let's keep things casual.

Mohammad: If I can only have you Thursdays, so be it. Every day I will wait for you. No other man may have me.

This really opens up a sequel to Brokeback Mountain. They'll probably end up casting Jake Gyllenhaal for the part of Mohammad. He obviously knows how to play the part of a Persian as evidenced by his latest movie.

These guys think that they have outsmarted Allah, their omnipotent, omnipresent, all-powerful man in the sky with a loophole! Thank Allah for loopholes! All holes, really, especially the male ones. They don't think their non-love-making labels them homosexuals. I'd be happy to let them live with their denial and hypocrisy if it wasn't for the fact that they are using their interpretations of their holy book to molest children. Don't be surprised. Religion and child rape are like peas and carrots.

There's a saying here in Afghanistan:: "Women are for children, boys are for pleasure."

WTF.

Happy Man-Love Thursday.

Note: When I googled "homosexuality" and "Afghanistan" all I got were hits about the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell." The only site that had any insight on Afghan sexuality was on the Fox News site, so don't hate. Here it is. It's actually a pretty interesting piece.

-Danny

It's been a while...

You guys know that amazing Staind song, "It's been a while"? Well, it's been a while.

So, I'm sure you're wondering what's happened since my last entry, and if you haven't, I have no use for you as a friend. Here's a rundown of the last couple weeks:

1. I finally experienced the blue back-splash from the porta-john. Never again.
2. Due to Item 1, I thought of several porta-john related inventions to prevent blue back-splash and make the time in there a little more comfortable.
3. I noticed that the University of Maryland - Europe (isn't this Asia?) offers college courses here. Decided to see what course offerings they provided -  GWRIT 103 - Greek and Roman Mythology. Appropriate material....if I were in Greece or Italy for a summer abroad. Not sure how my knowledge of Hermes/Mercury and Zeus is going to help me kill insurgents.
4. Porta-johns have become a breeding ground for graffiti. And by graffiti, I mean abstract renditions of male genitalia. With all the dudes on base, you'd think that somebody might decide to go with the female variety. Has this always been the case since the dawn of mankind? Were cavemen also drawing penises on the walls of their cave dwellings?
5. The facial hair is getting a little out of control but I'll let it do so for comic relief.
6. I smoked some Cuban cigars (see picture).

Dirty Herat Water

This morning I arrived at work at my normal time (around 4:00 A.M) and started rummaging around the office for some water to drink. I picked up the water bottle that I thought was mine and took a big gulp.

It wasn't water. It was straight vodka. I though about spitting it out for just a split second but how often is one presented with alcohol in this environment? Needless to say, I let it pass through my esophagus, uninterrupted.

Cheers,

-Danny

A Mighty Wind

It's getting hotter and windier everyday. To find yourself in a porta-john in the middle of the day is a hazardous gamble, and I don't think I wanna take the risk any longer.  The picture is evidence enough.

Blowouts and Flat Tops

To my chagrin, after several failed attempts, I will not be consuming any alcohol or pizza as previously stated in my earlier blog entry. Fate has handed me a heavy blow and I must accept it. However, since I've been busy running around the base, I had the privilege of sighting a Jersey "Blow-Out" donned by a member of the Navy. I'm not sure what role the Navy is playing in the war in Afghanistan, but if I were a terrorist, that blow-out would stick out like a sore thumb.

After witnessing that dreadful hair-don't I decided it was time to visit the Spa and Massage parlor. I figured that shorter hair would allow me to go longer without shampooing and washing. The parlor is run by Koreans and they were organized and swift so the wait wasn't as long as it appeared to be. They were pumping some Metallica and Evanescence through their computer speakers in an attempt to provide some semblance of normality. I don't think it worked. It's hard to forget you're in a war zone with service members in their uniforms and their weapons close at hand.

I told the hair stylist (I am using this title liberally) that I wanted it short around the ears and just trimmed up top. A simple request that should yield a positive result. I was wrong. Something I said must have translated to "Give me the Dolph Lundgren look from Rocky IV, please." Anyways, I never realized that the Dolph Lundgren Flat-Top and the Jersey Blow-Out are inbred cousins of one another. The only real difference is that the Jersey Blow-Out uses product that Dolph Lundgren probably could only dream of in the 80's.

-Danny

Incommunicado

It appears that Dionysus answered my prayers. In about a day I'll be on a base with alcohol and pizza. Don't worry, unless the Italians and Spaniards are under the same influence as the residents of Bon Temps, Louisiana, it should be a great time.

Unfortunately, I'll be incommunicado for about a week so that means no internet chatting, e-mails, or blog posts to keep myself entertained. Of course, even in Afghanistan, this is the 21st Century and they happen to have a functional cellular network with about 3.5 million subscribers so I'll be using my cell phone.

If they have Smirnoff Ice, I'm gonna have to ICE someone. I'd probably be the first to ICE someone in Afghanistan; a truly remarkable achievement.

Laundry Services

It appears that the continuing influx of soldiers has disrupted the laundry services, lengthening the amount of time it takes to launder everybody's clothes. I'm normally not too worried with a 3-5 day waiting period, but today is the 6th day I've been waiting to recover my clothes, and what makes this so troubling is that I've finally ran out of clean things to wear.

In reality, it's actually been about 3 days for pants and shirts, but recycling these items isn't usually a problem; however, today I've had to wear the same underwear I wore yesterday. I suppose a trip to the PX is required today but the only offerings are usually tighty whities. 

With this dirty mustache and the more "traditional" underwear, I'm feeling and looking more like my old man. Whether that's a positive thing, only time will tell, and with still over 2 months remaining, I'll have plenty of it to twirl my hair and reflect.

-Danny

Never a Dull Moment

This morning I woke up and went to work and then this happened.

The Kung Fu Kid

Forget all this talk about oil spills, supreme court nominations, volcanos and the ongoing war in Afghanistan. I just learned that Hollywood is putting out a reboot of The Karate Kid franchise (can't believe it's actually a franchise) starring Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith.

WHAT. THE. EFF.

The plot summary (yes, I actually read it) is almost identical to the original, except for a few things. The Karate Kid doesn't learn karate, he learns Kung Fu.

WHAT. THE. EFF.

Instead of Southern California, the setting is China and Jaden Smith's character, the supposed KARATE KID, learns Kung Fu to beat up all those Chinese bullies. If I were a Japanese martial artist I would be pissed. Apparently, nobody of Japanese descent works in Hollywood. After all, as far as history is concerned, the Japanese and Chinese are practically arch-enemies. To confuse their versions of martial arts must be offensive to the people who actually practice them, but I digress. Mr Miagi would turn over in his grave if he ever saw this come to fruition.

Maybe it's one of those secretly symbolic movies that can be better appreciated under the severe influence of psychotropic drugs. As this is one of those "I learn martial arts to fight the bully" movies, maybe the Kung Fu kid symbolizes modern America's attempt to regain its military and technological power by beating up that new pesky bully, China. Learning Kung Fu, in this sense, is military espionage and once the Kung Fu Kid makes his discovery he sabotages China's plans for world domination. He eventually returns to the lower 48 so we may continue our hegemony over the world. Oh, what a perfect world it would be again.

I think I'm gonna have to pull a Crane Kick on Hollywood's ass.

(I've just realized I've been here for far too long.)

-Danny

(Hair) Growing Pains

As many of you may know, I've been 'itching' to grow some facial hair during my deployment. And since I would be out of the country for 4 months, I would escape the incessant ridicule and laughter doled out by my state-side friends and family.

When I first arrived in Afghanistan, there were two striking things Iimmediately noticed. First, the beautiful mountain ranges juxtaposed with the dirty, polluted military structures and second,  the omnipresent styled facial hair, whether it was a mustache, traditional beard, goatee, etc.

Of all the places I would expect to accept my attempt to grow facial hair, this had to be the place. So, as of today, I have not shaved for a solid 6 weeks. I would have posted a picture of my current follicle challenged disposition sooner but I was afraid that I didn't possess a camera with enough resolution that would give it any justice.

My greatest fear is that I will look something like this but with blonde hair.

I think I'm gonna go for the Don Quixote look - really pointy all over. Lucky for everybody, I'll be getting back a couple months before Halloween, so to really bring my costumed look to life, I'm sure I can find some medieval armor around here somewhere. They're literally back in the Middle Ages, right? The difference in time zones is vast.

-Danny

Wind of 120 Days

Judging from the past few days, it appears the wind of 120 days has begun. Air pressure differences between Afghanistan's northern Plains and southern deserts force strong winds to blow between the central mountains of Afghanistan and the mountains of eastern Iran. These winds can reach speeds of up to 115 mph during the 120-day period between June and September. You can see why I was afraid of the porta-john tipping over.

Unfortunately, there are no Marilyn Monroe dresses to be lifted upwards, no colorful kites to be flown, and no turbines to harness the wind to generate electricity.

The wind carries with it the dirt, dust, and garbage around the base and sends it right into my face. At least I get to wear my cool Afghan scarf!

I suppose there's one advantage to all this wind: The great time-honored tradition of American flag waving.

-Danny

Do I have pink eye??

A couple days ago I had to go out in the field to collect some data. Having spent the majority of the day outside, I was left to the mercy of the elements - wind, earth, and even rain. If only I were affected by fire and heart, I could have summoned Captain Planet. 

Anyways, these earthly elements entered my ocular cavity which caused me to develop a swollen and pinkish eye. My coworkers assumed it was ass eye which is street slang for conjunctivitis - pink eye. It's amazing how these suspicions turn people into Lepers. I was immediately cast away for fear I would infect the entire office. I hoped they were wrong.

The next day I examined my eye and to my surprise - no pink, no crust, no problem. I guess the wind will continue to blow around all this pollen and dirt, worsening my allergy situation. The wind has been so strong that when I was in the porta john earlier, I became increasingly worried that it may tip over, leaving me to swim in a sea of human excrement. 

Now, that's how you get pink eye, among other things.

Monetizing a Blog

Have you noticed something different about the blog recently? If you haven't, you must have your Mozilla ad blocker working because I just decided to monetize my blog of 14 followers! Don't worry, I won't be quitting my day job anytime soon. And that's mainly because I'm stuck here in Afghanistan and I'd rather not have to pay the out of pocket expenses to leave this place.

Some of the advertisements I've seen seem pretty useful if you have alcoholism or are interested in buying the latest episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, "Perverted." Does this blog have a 'perv' quality to it? I'm not sure how that ad made its way to my blog but if I get a 5 dollar check in the mail, I can cash it and let it pay for the cost of a Big Mac. Well, almost the full cost of a Big Mac.

-Danny

Momma Said Knock Me Up

In celebration of Mother's Day, the chow hall was decorated with pink and red hearts. These obviously were not mother's day specific decorations, just leftover valentine's day decorations that someone thought could pass for the mother's day holiday. It appeared this day couldn't get any more Freudian but I was wrong.

We were presented with a DJ blaring music in honor of all our mothers, courtesy of the US military. Unfortunately, the tunes were more of the "Bump and Grind" variety and it sent the chow hall environment into Oedipus complex overdrive.

Or the music may have simply been an attempt to subliminally order our military brothers and siters to make some sons and daughters, thus making more mothers! Regardless, it was weird.

Happy Mother's Day!

-Danny

(Deranged) Hearts and Minds

So the unit I work for happens to be making merchandise. We are called Task Force Odin. I got an interesting email detailing all the products they offered and it included things such as patches, hats, shirts and guns. I would have purchased a gun but they were 800 dollars, and that's just too expensive for something I would hardly ever use. Maybe I could move to a more violent area of DC, like Anacostia. My gun would surely be getting more action in that part of town.

Anyways, here is the infamous shirt that they will be attempting to sell to us:

Yeah. Crazy. For 14 dollars you can look like a 17 year old lead singer of a Norwegian metal band. Unfortunately, the leather pants will set you back over 200 dollars. But since it's summer, you might get a better deal. So what kind of dark soul would actually think this would be appropriate material for a shirt? Our unit's symbol is a deranged dog that's most likely suffering from rabies or some sort of zombie plague.

And to top it off, there's a phrase that reads “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.” As if Shakespeare hasn't already been exploited enough. What makes this phrase even more troubling is that it was meant for soldiers to pillage and spread chaos. Those are some great orders coming from our military commanders. I'm no military strategist, but I'm pretty sure pillaging and bringing chaos won't win us the hearts and minds of the Afghan people.
-Danny

Made In...Italy

Some of my favorite things are exports of Italy – pizza, Lamborghinis, high-end fashion, supermodels that wear the high-end fashion, the Italian Chandelier, Vespas, Rome (the television series and the actual city), firearms, wine, food processing gear. The list goes on.

I can now add Porta-Johns to the list. I had no idea I was sitting in an Italian human garbage collector until I looked up while attempting to fight off the swarm of flies with my free hand and there it read: “MADE IN ITALY”

Interestingly enough, I had recently heard that one of the Italian bases on the other side of the country happens to not only have Italian porta-johns, but eternal flowing rivers of alcohol and - not just one - but 4 pizzerias! A pity, that the only Italian product we have here is a shitter. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice one. It's firm, it has a great post-modern design and it's generally kept clean. It even has one of the best locking mechanisms around to prevent the overzealous soldier (or more often than not - Chow hall victim) from finding you in the most vulnerable of positions.

But I'd trade all that in a hot second for a few cold brews and a genuine slice of Italian pizza.

Arrivederci!

-Danny