WANNABE BULLSHIT CONTEST
O'Doul's Wannabe Contest Entry
Latest Entry: posted 2/5/07
From: JERE BEERY
(Of course, Berry Toll has the first entry-Click-->Entry #1: Berry Toll's total Bullshit Story
Robert, I think the guys on the Rangerlist are fed up with Barry Toll's shit also. Try this for a chuckle:
A proposal: How 'bout a phony/wannabe contest? I'll start. I'm only a Reserve Component LRRP + a one-time "temp" on the Rogers Team (long story), but I bet I can embellish at least as well as Barry Toll or anybody else out there. Best phony hero gets a cyber-O'Doul's.
2nd Entry: So, here's my story:
By: Dan V.
After graduating from the War College at age 17 and setting a course record, I was directly commissioned as a Navy SEAL Major General, and placed in command of the Delta Force Armored Division HALO-SCUBA SWAT Team. I earned my Ranger Tab through a special Malaysian course, which required the graduates to earn a Black Belt in Ninjitsu, earned by pulling the heart out of a live man-eating tiger in the jungle (I got a special award for maintaining noise discipline while doing it--but, I can't discuss the details, since they're classified due to the fact that I was actually operating in Red China, having landed there on the Space Shuttle I piloted off the deck of a nuclear submarine operating under the polar icecap).
Probably the hairiest mission I was on was the one where I earned the Oak Leaf Cluster on my Texas Legislative Medal of Honor (With Distinction). There we were, me and Barry Toll, knee-deep in hand grenade pins, surrounded by the Viet Cong, the NVA, the East German Girl Scouts, and a bunch of Communist lesbo bikers. Thought I'd never get out of that alive. Ended up being captured, but I strangled my Soviet guards (all 12 of them) in their sleep, using a live cobra as a garotte (the same way that Sergeant First Class Skip Swakhamer had taught me in my hand-to-gland combat training). Low-crawled out of there, and then swam back to CONUS, just in time to make my classified award ceremony at DIA Headquarters. Can't talk about the details, though, 'cause it's still classified "Top Secret Purple Haze." sorry...OK, next!
3rd Entry: This Ain't No Bull Shit!
By: Robert L. Noe
Enlisted in the US Army at age 3 in 1943, (America's Army was in deep shit, looking for recruits) back in WWII....My job was to inftrate the Nazi Hqs Command, posing as Hitler's kid. Once in his secret headquarters, convinced him I was his kid, at the end of the war, I used my secret pistol and poison to dispose of the bastard and his ol lady in his bunker at the close of the war...and everybody though it was suicide...
After that mission, I went to Canada, was commissioned as a 2Lt, but had to pose as an American Staff Sergeant operating off of a North Korean Sub in direct contact with Joseph Stalen of the USSR, monitoring his every move to influence the North Koreans into a war with America. Ol Joe was so impressed he made me one of those "super secret KGB spies dudes." Working as a triple agent, I passed all this info on directly to the Queen of England who would then called the American Pres (Shit can't recall which on, worked in the White House under so many presidents--Think it Was ol Pres Truman, I knew him so well, I called him Tru!) Well, anyways, notified Gen Douglas (Doug) MacArthur that the fricking Red's was going to come into the war, but he wouldn't believe me, so at the age of 13, I enlisted in the Red Chinese Army as an American Spy (Can't talk about how I did that,,,it's still classified). Once there, was put on the YaLue River, and called Ol Gen Doug, but damn, he still didn't believe me that there were over 100,000 Reds already in Korea, well after they exposed themselves, I swam the YaLu River, met up with Doug face to face and told him to cut off the Reds at Inchon. He promoted me to B.Gen and I took the Task force in and we kicked ass and won the Korean Conflict.
A few weeks of peace, Vietnam popped up. Well seeing as how those reds were about to start another fricking war, I went to Hanoi, met with Ol Uncle Ho, and he told me he was pissed at the US for not giving him support so he went to Russia and struck a barging. He said that they would welcome Uncle Ho and support him fully if he would Kick America's ass. He said OK. Pres Ike called me and we chatted about what was about to happen, told him the Russians and Uncle Ho were planning to take back South Vietnam and the Soviets wanted to start more shit. Anyways the war started, and I was back as young private in the US Army elite Green Berets, I think by this time, I must have been 17. I operated all over South Vietnam (working directly for Pres Kennedy-called him Ken) kicking ass, won 7 MOH, plus a pot full of other medals of lesser degree before any Americans Conventional Armed Forces ever arrived on the scene.
Then I figured out that we needed to invade North Vietnam, flew down to talk to the Viet Pres (Not sure which one was there, might have been Presient Ky [See my picture with him ], but ol Pres Johnson (John) nicked the Idea. Well, since I couldn’t do that, I started this Top Secret outfit (can't talk about it either, and went directly into North Vietnam, done much damage, infact so much, Old Uncle Ho was just besides himself and called Pres Johnson and told him he'd do anything to get my ass out of North Vietnam. Pres Johnson was so pissed that he called me on my cell phone while I was about to break down the gates to Ho's villa and personally kick his ass, told me to back off.
Never being disrespectful, I withdrew into the countryside. Found this beautiful Vietnamese lady who turned out to be one of Ho's mistresses...shacked up with her for a few years, going out every day or so and wiping out entire North Vietnamese regiments single handed, drawing my full pay into a swiss bank account. Well, then found out Pres Nixon (Nick) was in and John was out, so I gave Nick a call. Told him to send all those bombers over and blow the hell out of North Vietnam. Of course, after the second flight, those North Vietnamese surrendered.....America won the war!!!
Oh hell, forgot, when I was -26 years of age, I was commissioned as a Captain and actually captured all those Germans that Sgt York got credit for during WWI. You see, even though he was that good, I was better. My pre-born soul entered his body and did all that shit for him, he didn't have a clue!!! He got the MOH, but I got two of them before I was ever borne.
Can't give all the details, they're still classified, you'll just have to believe me. By the way, my military records were destroyed in the fire.
And ya'll thought Berry Toll was good swinging from a helicopter! Next saga involves my activities with Gen Grant and Gen Lee during the civil war, with Gen and later Pres Washington during the Rev. War, and of course can't forget my actual involvement with Iran and Iraq.....Ya'll will have to buy me a beer or two to hear those stories, they are of course still classified...then you know how that booze works...loosens lips.
Dear Mr. Rivera,
I have just learned that a member of the Special Operations community has initiated a contest to determine who can conjure up the most ludicrous phony/wannabe story. The winner will receive the coveted cyber-O'Doul's Award. I have seen some of the early entries and they make some very outlandish claims. However, I believe that your whopper about Dennis Linders, the phony Navy SEAL, has an excellent chance of topping them all. Especially since you and Linders actually expected someone to believe his fictitious prattle. With their great sense of humor, the Navy SEALs, Army Green Berets and Rangers, Air Force Air Commandos, and the Marine Force Recon men will get a great chuckle out of your article.
No doubt they will be proud of your boss, Scott Faust, and his "courageous" decision not to print a retraction even though the contradicting evidence is overwhelming. Therefore, I am requesting permission to submit your hilarious article for the careful consideration of this unbiased group of warriors. I await you reply.
4th Entry: O'Doul's Wannabe Contest Entry
(Will need to see if any of our Viet friends has any 33 for ya, you certainly deserve it for this story, it's good---enjoyed a good laugh)
From: email@example.com (Don Martin)
I can't top your hero stories, but sometime ask me about Igor Sikorsky using me, when I was a buck private in 1958, to help him design more efficient models of helicopters, and later as a 2LT, I helped General Hamilton Howze take over Bell and sell all those Hueys to President Johnson and Secretary of Defense McNamara. Not long after that, as a 1LT, while commanding a company of 220 special forces troops at Fort Bliss (it was cleverly
disguised as a regular BCT company), I was selected for flight school. When I got there, they found out I had already learned to fly while working with Igor, so I set up a special training school for gunship instructor pilots at Fort Rucker. By then, 1966, I was a Lieutenant General in the Bolivian Army and a Major General in the U. S. Army, but due to the classified nature of my mission (which involved convincing Saudi Arabian flight school trainees that they have to lower the collective to properly auto-rotate when the
engine fails, then soften the landing with initial application of collective pitch and "cushioning" immediately before touchdown, instead of just saying "In-shallah" and relying on Allah to save their asses), I was disguised as a U. S. Army Infantry Officer and Paratrooper in the grade of captain. Actually, I trained Colonel Welsh, former commander of the Jump School at Fort Benning, taught him everything he knew, and he was damn' good at that jumping out of perfectly good airplanes shit. When I graduated from Jump School, two weeks before Colonel Welsh (in a previous life, like Robert),
they made me an instant Master Parachutist, by-passing the issuance of the novice and senior wings due to my uncanny skill and know how, which included designing all types of static line and free fall parachutes, the latter for CIA operatives who jumped into places like Cambodia, Laos, Coney Island, Northern Idaho, and Lichtenstein, as well as Haight-Asbury and Cleveland.
When I got to Vietnam, I commanded the gunship platoon of the 119th Assault Helicopter Company, but was secretly the senior advisor to the Special Forces SOG mission at FOB-2, taught Snake, Squirrel, Dallas, P. J., Mad Dog, and MSG Flores everything they needed to know to succeed on their mission. Simultaneously, I was secretly the commander of the 1st Aviation Brigade, with BG Seneff and other less knowledgeable officers as my senior aids.
As the gun platoon leader of the Crocodile Platoon, I was Croc 6. I single handedly, with my Hog (48 rocket ARA configured C-model Huey) killed 76,013 NVA soldiers, and killed or mangled to the point of being combat-ineffective 4,572 Viet Cong. I also rescued 22 downed fighter pilots in the jungles of Laos and Cambodia. When the fighting was at a lull, I camped out with the guys at Leghorn and taught them how to use U. S., Russian, Chinese, and North Vietnamese CEOIs (SOIs in those days, as I recall). I was the senior crypto custodian for all U. S. Forces north of Saigon.
President Carter later appointed me as Secretary of Defense (while I was back on active duty as a CW4, reserve Major, and full General in the Bolivian Army), however, I turned down the assignment because Carter is a democrat, and I am a republican! He never forgave me, and subsequently gave away the Panama Canal just to piss me off! Dickhead!
President Clinton tried to recall me as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff when the black beret thing was brewing, and I almost accepted, but again, he's a democrat, and I am a republican, so I declined and took a job with the Russian Special Forces Command which is secretly training in the woods of eastern Oklahoma utilizing plain black uniforms, blacked out aircraft, space craft captured from Martians which landed in an Iowa cornfield last year, special sunscreen which makes them invisible, laser
weapons which make "Star Wars" weapons pale in comparison, and nuclear powered individual soldier hovercraft which only need refueling ever 30 years (on retirement of the individual to which it was originally issued in basic training). I also manage the nuclear waste dump near McAlester, supervising death row prisoners in the safe disposal of defective nuclear back packs discarded by the Russians. The Department of Energy is seeking to hire me away from the Russian mission to solve California's power problems. I would go there, but I am a heterosexual.
I am still training the Russians who will help us fight Canada and Mexico when they invade simultaneously. That's actually classified top secret, but Leslie Stahl has already leaked it and talked about it on 60 Minutes (CBS magazine show last Sunday). I also know the date they will invade, but Leslie and the rest of the world do not, so I will withhold that secret for now. Let me just say this: Do your Christmas shopping early this year.
As far as medals go, I have a few, the Bolivian Medal of Honor with 2d oak leaf cluster, two Distinguished Service Crosses, eight Silver Stars, seventeen Distinguished Flying Crosses, five Bronze Stars with V device, the Legion of Merit with three oak leaf clusters, two Soldiers Medals, nine Purple Hearts, Parachutist Badges from 24 countries, and a 4-H Club badge for saving a pig from being run over by a speeding Mac truck when the pig ran away after I bit off his nuts at the age of 9 (I was nine, not the pig,
the pig was about 6-8 weeks old) so he would grow bigger and stronger and win a blue ribbon at the county fair. He not only won at the county level, but at the state, national, and inter-national. Later, I donated him to Mel McIntyre, USASF (retired), and he cooked him in a pit for my SF friends at a Camp Mackall, NC. Most of us ate the cooked meat, but my good friend, SF Major (retired) Joe Spencer, tore off one leg and ate it raw, washing it down with two quarts of vodka I had stolen earlier from Putin in Russia when
Putin was still a KGB agent. Retired SFer, Woody Woodfill ate the head in its entirety, and I at the feet and tail, but admit I used about a quart of Tabasco, washing mine down with Jim Beam and Coke (light on the Coke).
Rumor is that if Vice-president Cheney gets too ill to serve, he will ask congress to pass a special law appointing me Vice-president. If I do reach those hallowed halls in Washington, D. C., I plan on shit-canning the black beret idea, appointing only former SFers and gunship pilots to my staff, and placing special emphasis on helping those Russians down in the woods of eastern Oklahoma get ready for the inevitable invasion of Mexico and Canada.
I feel sure I won't win the cyber-O'Douls, but would settle for a six-pack of combat-sized bottles of OB (Korean beer) or "33" (Vietnamese formaldahyde)!
Thanks for listening. De Oppresso Liber.
Don Martin sends; Life Member, SFA, A-877*; Life Member, MOPH*; Life Member, VFW*; Life Member, American Legion*; Vice-commander, American Legion Post #204, Seminole, Oklahoma*; Major, U. S. Army (retarded)*; Dean, Central Texas College, Pacific Far East Campus (retired)*; Member, VHPA*; Life Member, Blackhorse Assn. (11th ACR)*
*No shit, really. Hey, really, no shit . .
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Gary Daugherty)
I'm pissed, shocked and amazed. I'm a real hard-core, hard-drivin' Vietnam War type of remf. Hey man, do you know how hard it was to be stationed in Saigon for a year? Do you know how ####in' rough it was to live in the Metropole Hotel in Cholon? Man, I was constantly surrounded by bars and bargirls; white mice and cyclos were everywhere. Hey dude! I endured those hot, humid days. Can you just imagine how bad it was when the air conditioning broke down in the commo office. I even had to put with those nasty monsoon rains when I darted from the black SOG vehicle to the SOG compound on Pasteur Street.
Not to mention the hordes of shock troops that I had to engage in hand-to-hand shopping at the Cholon PX and the VN taxi drivers that wanted to buy all of my hard fought for gains.
Then there was Ba-Mui-Ba (The spelling may not be right; but hey, I was a beer warrior - not a scholar.) the champagne of Vietnamese bottled beer. Do you really, I doubt it, understand how rough it was to drink that stuff without my dried, street vendor cooked, squid? Come on man!!!!!!!!!! Yeah, I'm pissed. There are a lot more harrowing horror stories like the above that I could tell; but, I'm just not that type. Besides, there all classified.
But, just why am I really pissed, you ask????????
WHY IN THE HELL AREN'T THERE ANY WANNABE REMFs OUT THERE?
Entry #6-Larry Ti Ti Manes rules of conduct.
By: Nick Brokhausen-RT HABU
Thanks to my heavy experience at shit burning detail because of various violations of the Larry Ti Ti Manes rules of conduct. I developed a rare and serious mental disorder that allowed me to disguise myself in a number of forms. I remember one such mission when Billy Waugh personally air dropped me from the back of a C One deuce and a half into down town Danang cleverly disguised as a moped owned by the Infamous NVA Spy, Madame Vacumne. The missions are to this day so classified that they still carry the TOP Ridiculous, Stamp in human blood at the very top. Nam screwed me up so bad that I am currently living as a Black woman secretly married to Marlin Brando. Someday soon I hope to emerge and take my real identity , that of the illigitimate son of Otto Skorzeny and a Basque woman Guerilla, with a nervous tic and a name that can never be mentioned.
I will be at the Convention. Anyone refuting my TRUE Tales of Adventure, can speak up any time. I will be disguised as a urinal in the mens room.
From: email@example.com (firstname.lastname@example.org)
By: George Hewitt
I am so tired of you guys picking on my team buddy Barry Toll. He and I was together on a low level insert to haiphong (or was it BangFu) Nort West Vietnam back in 69-70. He was the most daring guy we had to live thru them projects (slang for secret). I ought to know as his clandestine leader Captain. Anywhere - here is a picture of me using a heretofore never published picture of his invention to get us in fast and un-detesticled (currently used in some stealth PROJECTS (really secret)by the newly formed Black Betrets of the Secret Army of One. I have other photos of me doing the similar insert with a 55 gallon drum of MOGAS strapped on my back and a lit road flare, but they are soumwhat grusomes so for your lilly livered friends I'll spare you for now. Like I told you --leave my NoogieBoy Barry and and his spatula fingered - doughnut sucking asshole friends alone!! PS - I'd tell you more about myself but there is a high potential that the mercury tipped .50 cliber slug in my ribs might get agitated to the point of splodin and killing both of us or anyone else listening within 5 meters!! Well Hell - why hold back: I was the one that you guys used to read about in Stars and Lice that was responsible for dragging Daisy Cutters up north on mules specially outfitted with 105 recoiless rifles and disguised as water buffaloes. Most times I dressed as one of the boys and rode durned near naked on top but don't you know I had a .359 Magnum - yeah yu heard me .359 cause the bullets were sheathed in an extra layer of chrome so as to not kill POWs I was ordered to bring back. You pussies and yoour M14 service pistols didn't know squat!! Hey - I'll be back but don't you forget i am pissed and you can't come to my website no more. STUDS
From: email@example.com (Brian Bailey)
I have read with some level of interest the submissions to the "Wanna Be" thing. With your indulgence let me vociferate my opinions/experiences.
Disclaimer: Most of this is very obviously BS and intended to be recognized as such. Understand, that as a long time member of the SF community I recognize this immediately. Why anyone with the respect of this community would publish this is beyond me. It is dribble...purely and simply unsubstantiated dribble. When I tell it you, can take it to the bank, cause it did happen. Know what I mean?
Let me tell you this, I am not SF qualified, but I did work with you guys for years. From early in '65 until Lam Son I flew missions for you, and to some I was a legend. When we first started running cross border op's we lost many folks simply because they could not get to an LZ. I gave this much thought and proposed that we use a system of ropes/cables to drop into a non-LZ and exfil troops. I got permission to try this and it was so successful that it was adopted as the standard for exfil in most Prairie Fires. I called this system MACWIRE, simple name for a system to exfil folks with no LZ....a "Wire for MACVSOG personnel". This proved to be an exceptionally expedient method of extracting troops and was, across the board, adopted by SF as a standard for extraction. Unfortunately, through bastardization, it became known as the McGuire Rig". Did not bother me because I knew who the real innovator was. I could have raised some hell and demanded that I be given credit....but in what venue? Why did we need such a device, as no one was operating cross border. Yeah I know I should have pushed it, but no attorney would touch any part of it as it was/and is classified. Anyway, I digress. I received many complaints from the RT's that, though efficient, the MACWIRE was unstable and they had to hold onto each other lest they swing in an uncontrollable manner. I again put some thought into this.The result was a "Stabilizing bar that would hook into the extracties harness and allow him to "Ride the wind" persay." This also proved to be a boon to the special op's community and was rapidly adopted. I called it the "Stabilizer Rig". Again this was bastardized into the "Stabo Rig". Out of deference to the mission and personnel involved....I kept quite. Understand that I was pissed. Here I had come up with two very viable systems to exfil troops, and got no credit. Unfortunately I had no recourse as all of our op"s were and are classified. I mean I could tell you about them. but then if you told someone else I would go to Jail. Know what I mean? Now these minor contributions were obviously in addition to my normal mission of inserting and exfilling teams cross border. Risky, well yeah, it was risky and all of us had to wear sterile clothing and we could not carry any ID in case we were shot down and captured. (of course we all carried cyanide pills disguised in our dental work in case we were shot down. Trust me, we knew what was in store for us, there were bounties on our heads, if the enemy got their hands on us it could affect the outcome the war. All of us were under orders that if it came down to nut cuttin, we would do the pill, not a nice thought, but that's life.
Anyway, I am rambling and should shut up about this as it is classified and I should not have said this much. But you know I remember a mission where we were 50 or 60 klicks into Laos and started taking fire from AA. This is the most frightening thing in the world to a pilot. But I knew that I had a team in trouble and if I did not get them out....they were gone. You know I really can't tell you much about this because it's classified....but you won't repeat it? Right? Well we were taking radar guided '50, 23, and 37 fire as we went in. My wing broke off because it was just to hot, but I knew that the team was depending on me. I drove in, taking fire, and set up above the triple canopy so my crew could drop the ropes. The team was hooking in but I was taking all kinds of fire.
Any other pilot would have broken off and called for guns, but I knew I could get them out. At last the team, all eight, were hooked in and I started to pull them up through the dense foliage. Several times I had to stop and descend because the guys on the ropes were hung up in trees. All of this time I was taking heavy AA. My peter pilot panicked and begged me to bail, but I stayed in there. Anyway, the long and short, I got the team out.
All of them alive and when we landed at MaiLoc I had taken 374 AA hit's in the cockpit, Don't know how many hits in the rest of the AC as it was hooked out before I had a chance to check. I was put in for the CMH for that, but it got downgraded and I only got the Silver star.
The SOG guys got so they requested me when shit was hot, as they knew I was the guy that would get them out. I spent more time in Laos and Cambodia than I did un Viet Nam. I was so good that I was the only Army Aviator involved in Son Tae. That one is really classified. Just can't go into details.
You know I was one of the most decorated flight officers in the Vietnam Conflict. Got 4 Silver Stars,7 DFC's, Two Bronze Stars, Lots of VN awards, and 32 airmedals. The bitch is that all of my records are locked down because of the classified nature of the op"s I was on. I can't even prove I was in Vietnam because they are afraid of what I might say if I could prove I was there. I would belong to the Legion but I can't get my 214. Oh, well. Did I tell you about being in the Zealous Scouts?
Entry #9-Lunch With Barry Tolls
By: firstname.lastname@example.org (Robert Moberg),
Well Robert I have been sitting here following the saga of Barry Toll with great interest! Now I guess it is time to fess up. I have held up until now because I am a quiet reserved person that never speaks of those horrible and terrifying times in my past. But it sounds like they are passing out Medals of Honor and I was thinking maybe someone would give me one. It would look nice in my case along side my Good Conduct Medal and E.I.B. I also could wear it around my neck during my rounds of the whore houses in Pattaya to give the girls something to talk about.
So this is what happened:
I was the pilot that horrifying day deep in the jungles of Laos. When Barry said "You gotta go in and get Frenchy"! I said "sho"! ( Being a good southern boy with not much educatin') Barry misunderstood over the whine of the helicopter transmission and thought I said "No!" He then pulled out his trusty Browning 9 mike mike and pointed it at my head! (I'll never forget it because it was chrome plated with 21 notches filed in it's Ivory Grip made from the saber tooth tiger Barry had killed with his bare hands a couple weeks before) I screamed "Whoa, Whoa". Again Barry thought I said No No. He was furious and shot me! But I was prepared for the shot because Jay Graves had taught me that all recon types were baby eating animals and if they went one day without killing a woman or child they had to kill something or someone to satisfy their craving. The bullet went through my highly polished white flight helmet and ricocheted off my bullet proof Green Beret that I had specially made in China. (I always wore that Beret under my flight helmet just in case!) But the impact knocked me over against the door causing me to momentarily loose control of the aircraft. As the chopper rolled violently Barry lost his footing and fell out of the open door. I did a right pedal turn as the aircraft rolled to the right and reached out catching Barry by the ankle in the steel vice grip of my right hand that I had built up through years of self flagellation while in the bush. As the aircraft settled in the trees the rotor blades were coming apart and the Rotor RPM was slowing almost to a stop! Barry was hanging upside down still in my grip of steel! Frenchy jumped up from the home made trampoline he had constructed from the 'bungy' cords captured from the NVA motorcycles racing down the Ho Chi Minh trail. Barry reached out and caught him by the wrists. While swinging through the air Frenchy made a perfect two and a half somersault catching the leading edge of a retreating rotor blade. The centrifugal force catapulted him in up the air where he grabbed the skids of my lead Wolf Pack gunship flown by Barc Boyd. I had told Wolf Pack Six to stand by in a hover for the pick up. The crew chief of the gunship reached out and drug Frenchy into the helicopter and they flew him back to Marble Mountain. Barry and I were not so lucky. We crashed and were captured by the NVA. We later escaped during a "POT" party when the guards got stoned and fell asleep. I asked Barry to follow me but he said he was just going to stay in the jungle and kill NVA. I have not seen him since. I E&E'd to the WHITE ROSE in Vientiane where "NOI" nursed me back to health. I was living there in luxury in the back room opium den when Bill Shelton heard about my plight. He, Fred Wunderlich, and Billy Waugh set up an extraction and rescued me by "Sky Hook" from a SC 130E though a hole in the roof or I would probably still be there. While we were still in captivity we were starving to death and getting too weak to escape. The guards brought in some water buffalo dung and told us to "eat"! Barry said no way! It was still warm and as I poked around in it I could see the undigested kernels of rice and some corn. I said, "Barry, it is full of nourishment and we must eat it to gain back our strength to continue our defense of God, Country, Democracy, and Lyndon Johnson." So today when anyone asks me, "Do you know Barry Toll?" I can say, "We had lunch together!"
De Oppresso Liber
Bob Moberg D-1698-L / SOA 633GL sends
From: email@example.com (Justin (Dan) Hughes)
Below is my submission for the prestigious first annual O'Doul's "For Whom the dingleBERRY TOLLs" award. I can only hope my entry meets the high standards established by the preceding awards packages.
Prior to my "birth" my father was an OSS officer and was Bill Donovans liaison to the First Special Services Force during W.W.II. My mother was a Brit and worked during the war as an agent for the SOE. My parents met while on a Top Secret joint/combined OSS/SOE mission to infiltrate the Japanese High Command and assassinate the Japanese General Staff. (Of course all aspects of their mission are still classified: but needless to say, the Japanese lost the war).
After the war they married. Since both my parents were Illuminates and members of MENZA and the Church of Scientology, they were assigned to a Top Secret NATO bio-technology program to clone "Super Secret Super Soldiers" who were to wage war on the godless communists and keep the free world safe for democracy. Part of my parents job was to visit the grave sites of the worlds greatest warriors and extract viable DNA samples to be used to clone these "Super Secret Super Soldiers". My parents were able to retrieve DNA samples from such mighty warriors as King Arthur, Captain America, El Cid, Conan, Saladin, Sun Tzu, Bruce Wayne, Hannibal, Alexander, assorted Samurai and Templar Knights. (Of course, to gain access to several of these grave sites required the skills used to infiltrate and assassinate the Japanese General Staff).
When my parents decided to have a child (me) they availed themselves of this Top Secret bio-technology. I never really had a childhood. As soon as I emerged from the growth vat my education and training commenced. Since I was the product of a Top Secret project I was educated privately. The high school and college transcripts on file at various educational institutions are CIA plants (or maybe DIA). Charles Atlas and Bruce Lee were respectively my physical training and hand-to-hand combat instructors. With the brain power I inherited from my parents I completed the U.S. Army, Navy, and Air Force Academy courses by correspondence before age 12. (I also took the Coast Guard Academy correspondence course one weekend just for shits and grins). My post doctoral formal education was completed by age 15 and I was inserted into the U.S. Military as a Coast Guard Auxiliary Commodore on extended active duty. After all who is going to question what a U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary Commodore in a combat zone is up to? (Pretty sneaky, eh).
Due to my cloned aptitudes I was enrolled concurrently in the following courses: BUD/S, SF-Q, Ranger, Airborne, EOD, Astronaut, Marine Sniper, and Pathfinder. Naturally I was the Distinguished Graduate in all courses but I can't prove it because my name was purged from the schools records by the CIA (or was it the NSA?). Next I attended simultaneously Arctic, Desert, Jungle, and Water survival schools. (With regards to all of the above: it ain't brag if you can do it).
Now that I was a certified "Bad Dude" I was sent in theater (SEA) as a one man SADM (Special Atomic Demolition Munitions) team assigned to MACV/SOG and "Project 404". (This makes me the only "Coastie" ever to be assigned to SOG or Project 404. Of course all records of my assignment to these organizations were purged by the CIA (or was it the CID?).
My duties required the highest security clearance and access: COSMIC Top Secret/NATO Top Secret/SEATO/Top Secret/CRYPTO/SCI/Q-4/SSIR/CNWDI (Critical Nuclear Weapons Design Information), and anything involving space aliens and UFOs, all with SPECAT access. My activities were so sensitive that only the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs (U.S.) was aware of them.
My day to day routine would usually find me on the Ho Chi Minh trail looking for nifty locations to emplace my man portable nukes. I would usually target tunnel complexes, truck staging areas, transportation choke points, etc, and vaporize them. (You say you never heard about this? Well of course not! You think the U.S. is going to admit using nukes in Southeast Asia? All evidence of my activities were erased by the CIA (or was it the FBI?)
With my cloned stealthy skills I was usually able to infiltrate/exfiltrate and area completely undetected by Mr. Charlie. However as you all know, sometimes things just turn to shit on you and there is no help for it. Whenever it looked like I was hopelessly surrounded and all was lost my pal Berry Toll (Team MARICON one zero), a great all American hero, would come to the rescue and save the day! To see this hero in battle, in hand to hand combat, is simply beyond description so I won't even try! Needless to say, when the battle was over only the good guys were left standing! Being the self-effacing picture of modesty that he is, Berry will never discuss these horrendous rescue missions that cost so many lives and gives him nightmares to this day.
It is truly a shame I am unable to provide documentation to support this nomination. You see, all documentation regarding the "Super Secret Super Soldier" program was stored in a high security storage facility at Clark Air Base and destroyed by lava during the June 1991 eruption of Mount Pinatubo. I can only hope the above oral history will suffice. If you could get Barry Toll to talk (not likely as he is much too modest) I am sure he would verify those parts he is familiar with.
Justin D. Hughes, SOA #444-GL
Comments to the Wannabe Stories:
Your story is really making me laugh and laugh and so all. If I did not learn "belly beer control" I am surely my wife should take me to the Emergency Room tonight. I am a lucky one to read your story without self-injuried.
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (Justin (Dan) Hughes)
Great stuff! I laughed myself silly!
Justin Hughes, SOA #444
I love your collection of wannabee stories. (This is not a war-story .. this is the real deal ... no shit): I was one of 96 (I think) Delta guys on the Iranian mission. I bet I've met or heard of at least twice that number who claim to have been there.
|From:||cassie howard/mac <email@example.com|
"So no shit... There I was" right out of the Coast Guard, Special Operations, jump school. I served two weeks in the Gulf of Mex. before I was hand selected to serve with the Delta Force. They said I was too high speed so they sent me back to my battle ship called the Nemesis Bucket. Of course, I was the captain. I was in charge of some SEAL soldiers. Together we ran the ship. We earned a bunch of awards. So many damn awards I can't remember.Our attack boat was ordered to the Iraq Gulf during the initial attack of Baghdad in 2004. We where picked for some brown operations that were really messy. We had to swim up the Euphrates to Baghdad to sabotage Saddam's plumbing system. By doing that we created a diversion for the main attack. We lost three guys somewhere in the sewer. They died of asphyxiation in the lungs. I tried to find them but Saddam's palace guards were hot on our trail. Before the mission was complete I had been shot seven times in the face. I dint like to talk too much about it. The doctors had a hell of a time fixing my face. They did an excellent job. I look like Burt Reynolds now. The few remaining SEAL soldiers and I were awarded some more medals and stuff.
That's really an excellent wannabe BS contest entry! However, I don't think any BS artist can ever outdo that unrepentant traitor and U.S. Senator-President-wannabe's recitation of his own contrived tall tales, "seared, ...seared ... in my memory." [from John Kerry's U.S. Senate speech about his bogus black-ops mission in Cambodia].
It would be great if you could find the video clip of Kerry standing at the Senate podium delivering his Cambodian black-ops BS story. I've seen it before, but don't know where to find it.
If you want to get really fancy with your contest, I'll donate some authentic Zebu (Indian holy cow) bull droppings that could be bronzed for presentation to the contest winner, or delivered au natural. A parody news venue like The Colbert Report would be a fun place to announce the first annual (or semi-annual) contest winner.