Sailors Have More Fun Than Monkeys

By Cort Willoughby

Sure nuff, LOOKING at the path my life lays out for me I can attest for real that SAILORS have more fun than monkeys . Monkeys have more fun than people . Today was such a day . I try to gauge my trips to the grocery to get me home before dark . Really doesn’t matter as there are no farm chores to be done . Only my meager efforts to have dinner n dishes done , line up meds, rain locker etc . I’m pretty sure most have a similar routine. As my timing at the grocery meets with several other old farts. We probably think we are safer in numbers . At any rate there are usually the same 3 or 4 I know as VETS. The fresh veggies dude retired AIR FORCE . Now , Robert , before he took to fighting with a fierce attitude his battle with cancer , he always enjoyed going to his farm and worry about his animals. For sure one person that loves working and watching his horses n other animals on his farm . He and half dozen worthless farts got together daily for coffee and fixing the problems. Me , I’m pretty much a loner, I’ll take my coffee at home. So it’s when I go grocery shopping I run into other worthless farts n inside 3 minutes we have greeted each other thann moving on .

TODAY , ONE OF US WORTHLESS FARTS WAS SPEAKING WITH HIS FINGER PLUGGING THE HOLE IN HIS THROAT TO TALK . NOW , HE IS GIVEN TO BEING CAUGHT UP IN EXCITEMENT , SOMEWHAT JUMPY , GREAT WORTHLESS OLD FART . WE SEE AN AMAZON GO BY US . NOW , THIS FANTASTIC FIGURE OF A WOMAN WOULD HAVE STOOD OUT IN A LAND OF AMAZON’S, HERE , RITE NOW ! OUR EYEBALLS BLINKING TILT TILT, TILT LOOKING AT HER. DUDE EXCITED , HAS HIS FINGER PUSHED TO THE SECOND DIGIT IN HIS PORT HOLE . HIS EXCITED RASPY VOICE SPEWS OUT **** HOT DAMN , IT WOULD TAKE 18 WHEELERS TO BUST THAT DOWN AND GET THAT PUSS ***** HE REALIZES HE HAS BURIED HIS DIGIT AND BUSTED OUT LOUD . YOU NEVER SAW 4 CANES BEATING OUT RETREAT SO DAMN FAST , COCKROACHES HAVE NOTHING ON US . MY LUCK , I’M BUSTED ! SHE LOOKS DOWN AT ME , HER PERFECT RADAR DOMES ARE HIGH N TIGHT. SHE LOOKS AT ME , HELL , I’M THE BOSN , SO HERE GOES . I SAID MA’AM, WE DON’T GET TO SEE SUCH BEAUTY IN THE PROPORTIONS YOU HAVE . YOU GOTTA ADMIT IT WAS A GREAT VIEW WHEN YOU BENT OVER . SHE ACTUALLY SMILED , LEANED DOWN N KISSED MY OLD HEAD . WORTHLESS BASTARDS GRILLED ME FOR TWENTY MINUTES . HELL , I’M A FLEET SAILOR . WIN SOME, AND THEN WIN SOME MORE . DGUTS BOSN

This is an article submitted to a Louisville KY Newspaper contest to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinners. It won first prize.

As a joke, my brother Jay used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them.

What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay’s kids’ stockings overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don’t sell those things at
Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown.

If you’ve never been in an X-rated store, don’t go, you’ll only confuse yourself.
I was there an hour saying things like, ‘What does this do?’ ‘You’re kidding me!’ ‘Who would buy that?’ Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.

I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.

Finding what I wanted was difficult.
‘Love Dolls’ come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I’d only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for ‘Lovable Louise.’ She was at the bottom of the price scale.

To call Louise a ‘doll’ took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.

My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa
had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise’s pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy, but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more.

We all agreed that Louise should remain in her pantyhose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. ‘What the hell is that?’ she asked.

My brother quickly explained, ‘It’s a doll.’

‘Who would play with something like that?’ Granny snapped.

I kept my mouth shut.

‘Where are her clothes?’ Granny continued.

‘Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran,’ Jay said, to steer her into the dining room.

But Granny was relentless. ‘Why doesn’t she have any teeth?’

Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, ‘Hang on Granny, hang on!’

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidledup to me and said, ‘Hey, who’s the naked gal by the fireplace?’ I told him she was Jay’s friend.

A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa’s last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then
she lurched from the mantel, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants.

Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.
Later in my brother’s garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of
Louise’s collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh.

Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health..

I can’t wait until next Christmas.

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, compartments were still, The sailors were sleeping, as most sailors will.

The ditty bags hung by the lockers with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The men were all peacefully dreaming in bed As visions of liberty danced in each head.

The Chief in his skivvies, hopped into his rack, Having just came from town and a quick midnight snack.

When out on the deck there arose such a roar, I ran to the porthole to find out the score.

I stuck out my head and started to shout, “Just what in the world is this noise all about?”

A moon made for boondocking showed with a glow, It was downright cold out, ’bout seven below.

What I saw out there looked like those Mardi Gras floats, ‘Twas a Captain’s gig drawn by four white Navy goats.

In the boat was a man who seemed quiet and moody, I knew in an instant St. Nick had the duty.

As quickly as Monday his billy goats came, He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

“Now Perry, now Farragut, Dewey and Jones, What’s the matter John Paul, got lead in your bones?

A little to Starb’rd, now hold it up short, No fluffing off now, or you’ll go on report!”

He was wearing dress “Reds” that fit like a charm, His hash marks they covered the length of his arm.

The gifts to be issued were all in his pack, The gedunk was ready to leave on each rack.

His eyes they were watering, his nose caked with ice, He wiped it with canvass, then sneezed once or twice.

He opened his mouth and started to yawn, It looked like the Sun coming up with the dawn.

The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth, And took a small nip from a bottle beneath.

He wasn’t so big, but he must have been strong, I figured he’d been in SEALs early and long.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Tar, Who said “Evenin’ Matey, here – have a cigar.”

He filled every seabag with presents galore, And left us all leave papers, right by the door.

With “Anchors Aweigh” he climbed back into place, A broad smile was creeping all over his face.

One look at his watch and he started to frown, “This mid watch is certainly getting me down.”

Then out to the breakwater and into the night, The gig started fading, the landscape was bright.

“Merry Christmas” he said, as he drove on his way, “Now I’ll finish my rounds and sack in for the day.”

Holiday Tips:

By Garland Davis

Prepare a Holiday Kit for Your Asia Sailor:

Your sailor will depend on you even more during the high-volume party season of Christmas and the New Year’s celebrations.

The first step in preparing the kit should be to clear out a room, garage or shed to hold all the important items that will be required. An air-conditioned space containing at least one, but two or three refrigerators would be optimal.

This very important room should be stocked with:

Enough cases of beer to provide the sailor and many of his shipmates for at least a fourteen-day period. San Miguel is the preferred brand, but don’t get too concerned. They will drink any beer if it is not non-alcoholic beer.

At least five bottles of each of the following.

Jack Daniels Old Number Seven

Crown Royal

Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum

Four boxes of Franzia cheap red wine in case Neal Hightower shows up.

If any unappreciative Son of a Bitch wants something different, Fuck ‘em. They can bring their own.

Many cases of various soft drinks (heavy on the Diet Dr. Pepper) for the morning after dry mouth.

Two Keurig coffee makers with double strength pods so your sailor and friends can return to the optimum condition in a short time after drinking a few cold soft drinks.

Sufficient coolers and ice to keep copious amounts of potables chilled.

Direct telephone lines to Pizza Hut, Papa John’s and Domino’s Pizza.

At least an 80-inch screen HDTV with subscriptions to all sporting and pornography channels.

Blue Ray player and CDs of San Pebbles, Cinderella Liberty, Last Detail, The Enemy Below, In Harm’sWay, Midway and other Navy movies.

A clear path to the head to preclude Garland busting his ass falling.

Enough Qual cards so Asia Sailors can use the holiday’s celebrations to get quals signed off for Branson.

Have sufficient funds and a responsible person with a car to make emergency trips to correct any shortfalls in supplies.

MERRY CHRISTMAS and A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

PS:  A most appropriate gift for your Asia Sailor is an all expenses paid week-long trip to attend the Asia Sailor Westpc’rs Reunion in Branson!

The Caveman

Ok here’s a sea story. Never gonna forget and think it’s top of my sea story list. 1991 in route to that first gulf party on board Uss Tripoli early Jan just left Subic. I’m BTOW have a good watch team under me. Guinn U/L /checks. Alleycat L/L. Pedden on Burners. And then the Caveman As my messenger. Kid was a side show waiting for a pop up tent. Loved him. Always had a cig for the Top!!!

I requested to pump and dump so we aligned our educator and our steam FFP. Very proud of our bilges when wet we were 3 feet deep, but when we sucked it out. Bone dry!!

We sucked all the pockets, voids and side pockets. So I sent the Caveman down under the boilers to dry it out with the hard hose.

Top watch was up and between boilers with good sight lines. Our bilges were deep. So Caveman dropped down there with that hard rubber hose sucking a viscous vacuum.

Stop if you know where this is going!!!

Caveman was a machine, he dried those pockets and then some. I was watching him, he had a cig in his mouth so he blew some smoke and watched it get Sucked up. He’s still in the bilge !!

Watched him spit at it. Sucked up.

Watched him put it on his head sucked up his hair. Watched him run it over his coveralls. Sucked it.

And I just sat and watched IN AMAZEMENT as he unzipped his coveralls and stuck that hose on his Junk. Yep sucked it right up.

I have never heard such a blood curdling scream ever in my life. He flailed and danced but couldn’t get out of the bilges.

Alleycat shut it down. But thing was stuck solid. Could hardly think, we were laughing so hard.

Pedden grab a jack saw and cut hose to break the vacuum.

I called for the corpsman.

Caveman’s junk was all but sucked off. In the span of maybe ?? 45 seconds. He was purple and swollen beyond recognition. Poor guy. He Kept his junk.

Came back a Week later. Still gave Top a Cig to start watch.

Loved those guys.

Memories your family won’t understand.

First draft of e-mail

To: Archangel Gabriel

From: Directing Angel Prayer Central

Gabriel, I need help. I need at least many more angels to help with the processing of prayers. We are overwhelmed. Since Facebook was created with everyone asking for prayers for their ill and dying relatives and pets, their own illnesses, and for myriad other reasons the volume of prayers has increased a hundredfold.

You wouldn’t believe the prayers coming in. I am getting prayers for Dale Jr to win and for him to crash. For example, two years ago there was a loud clamor from a group of devout ladies in Branson, Missouri praying for some fellow named Neal. Those prayers went on for days. I still get one or two on occasion.

More and more by the time we review a prayer it has become too late to help. And that is just bad PR. Gabe.

Tell the boss that to be timelier on answering prayers, I need at least a thousand more angels to process the backlog and to keep up with the increased volume.

You need to FastTrack this Gabe. Anxiously awaiting your reply.

“In the Navy, Sir!”

By Steve Parmarter

Sorry, this is so long!!! I entered military service on my 17th B-Day, the United States Navy. I have to say that when I went aboard my first ship, USS ROARK DE-1053 I was a young, know it all kid who didn’t know how/when to shut up and listen. Well, we had some really GREAT Petty Officers on that “boat” and even though I didn’t realize it at the time, the things they taught to me and the things I learned under their auspices helped to shape my character and my life.

I learned to do a job to the best of my ability, to finish what I had started, not to complain about whatever task was set for me to do, and maybe most importantly to respect those in authority over me, and to respect myself.

SM-2 John Gordon and SM-3 Ron Reis took a skinny know-it-all kid and made something out of him. They did it by their example, by their patience, and even their impatience at times! It may have seemed BS at the time, but a relentless pursuit of study and OJT turned me into someone proficient at his job. My Bible was ATP 1 ALPHA-VOL 2, I had my nose in that pub so much I practically knew it by heart.

OF several Seaman Apprentice’s assigned to the Signal Bridge I was the one chosen to go to “A” school, and I became a Designated Stryker. I went from a SA to SMSN to a SM-3 in less than one year under their guidance…although I didn’t know it at the time, my transfer from Roark to Henry B. Wilson was due to my advancement in rate to Petty Officer. I was still only 17 when I took the test.

I had missed graduating with my HS class because my family moved. Had we not, I would have been a graduating senior at 16, my B-Day coming two weeks later on June 17, 1969. I had no clue how to finish the credits I needed, it was my Petty Officers that made the inquiry and arranged for me to take the test required for a High School Diploma for Pennsylvania.

I was transferred to duty in Viet Nam after only two months on the Wilson because I had applied for duty there prior to leaving the Roark. I recall Ron Reis asking me why I would do something so stupid as it might get me killed, and he told me this; “P, the graveyards are full of dead heroes”…little did he know at the time that he and John Gordon were heroes, MY heroes. How many of you guys remember Ron Reis getting several medals for his service in Viet Nam at the commissioning ceremony for Roark?

I went on to make PO-2 at 19. After going home I enlisted in the Navy Reserve and picked up that crow, and went on to be promotable as a SM-1 at 20 years of age.. I refused the promotion because I opted to get out of the Navy.

When the First Gulf War broke out I went into the Army on a 1 year enlistment, followed by another just like it and then one for 6 years. I’v had some try to call me out on that but it was true, and I went in as a Sgt.E-5. After 17 years and crossing branches too. While I enjoyed my Army service it never quite appealed to me the way the Navy had. Even so I was a NCOIC for Head Quarters Company, or HHB and the Recon Sgt. This was due to my training and service in Viet Nam.

I bet they never would have thought it at the time, but that young kid that John Gordon and Ron Reis took under their wing went on to serve and to train soldiers in the same manner they had done with me…by example and by attention to duty and to detail. Every time I was asked where/how I had learned certain things, I would always reply with “In the Navy Sir, in the Navy”.

They say that a military is only as successful as the Non-Coms who run it and it is true. It was true years ago, just as it is now. And the things I learned from those two Petty Officers have served me well all of my life, and there is nothing that I could EVER say that would do justice to their efforts.

In closing, (finally hey) I would like to say this: Aboard the USS ROARK we had some AWESOME CPO’s and PO’s, it shows just by the sheer number of SA/FA that reported aboard and with in one year were Petty Officers! That didn’t just happen, it took a LOT of training, and good example to make it so. For what ever it’s worth, I want to say, as a 65-year-old man, who was once a Petty Officer in the United States Navy and a Sgt. in the United States Army, from a raw kid to a respected NCO THANK YOU, SM-2 John Gordon, and SM-3 Ron Reis…the things you taught a young SA in the Navy were still worthwhile to a SGT. in the Army, teaching young soldiers the same work/personal/moral ethics you taught to him all of those years ago.

Navy Veteran

‘THE OLD MAN AND THE SAILOR’

by Robert L. Harrison .

July 22, 1997 . Greenfield, Indiana

He was old and worn and a bit forlorn as he ambled through the park,

He spoke to me and I could see that his eyes had lost their spark.

His gait was slow and his voice was low as he asked to sit with me,

And I answered him with a friendly grin, The sittin’ here is free.

He gave a smile and we talked a while and his voice was rather weak,

But his mind was strong and it wasn’t long til he began to speak

Of yesteryears and I saw the tears as the mem’ries flooded through

For he spoke of times and other climes as old men often do.

He smiled at me and I could see as he glanced at my Navy blues

That he’d earned his keep on the briny deep and paid his share of dues.

I asked if he would share with me some mem’ries from his career,

He said he might if the price was right, and the price was a can of beer!

I’ve shipped on subs and oily tubs, on battleships and cruisers,

Ten thousand mates and I can state not one of them was losers.

LST’s on foreign seas, from Tarawa to Leyte,

You name it, lad, I’ve been there, from Alaska down to Haiti.

Liberty ships of paper clips, balsa wood and glue,

I saw one break apart one time and lose her gallant crew.

Marine Corps I took ashore on Tarawa and Truk.

Oh what the Hell, for quite a spell, I’ve had my share of luck.

One thing more, he said, before I move along,

There ain’t no air that’s quite as fair as the pipe of the boatswain’s song.

And the place to be is on the sea riding a fair sea swell,

With mates like you in Navy blue who’ll follow you straight through Hell.

So here’s to you and your Navy crew who take our ships to sea,

You’ve fought and died and never cried throughout our history.

You’re heroes all and ten feet tall and your spirits never lag,

You’re the nation’s best and you never rest in defense of our country’s flag!

He rose to leave and I believe that he seemed to move much faster,

His eyes agleam like a laser beam and his skin was alabaster,

He glowed at first then soon dispersed in a cloud of misty cotton,

A dream at most, perhaps a ghost, but not to be forgotten…