Just to add to the absolutely sublimely spectacular rant of Ms. Barnhardt below, we think it’s time for a reprise of the LC Crunchie Hog Hunt™ and its aftermath.
Go there to savor the fullness of our very own Marine par excellence and brother’s memorable exploits, but we’d like to once again post our favorite picture from that wonderful day:
Before you get all upset about it, we’d like to stress that the poor hog did not give her life solely for a photo op, she was eaten and we’re told she was quite delicious. Also, LC Crunchie found an answer to that age-old question: “So, we’ve killed a hog and eaten it, now what the frack do we do with the damn head?”
There’s another answer to that question from our Imperial Youth™, but it doesn’t surpass this one, although we found it quite brilliant at the time.
We were partying with a brother from the Danish Jægerkorps. If you’re wondering, they’re like the SAS, only less polite, less gentle and a whole lot more crazy. We encourage that sort of thing.
As an example of what a Viking Good Time™ means, one of the things about that party was that our brother, who lived on the second floor (third floor over here since there is no “ground floor” over there) and he’d decided that using stairs when you had to go take a piss was unmanly (and unwomanly as well), so he’d thrown a rope ladder over his balcony for when you had to relieve yourself of the copious amounts of beer and schnapps you’d poured down the old drain. Rope ladders and insane drunkenness don’t mix very well, as we’re sure you can imagine, but the only guy who fell off only had to do six months in a cast before he could walk again so it was all good. Booze is a great anesthetic, by the way, which is a good thing since it was the only thing we had handy while we waited for the ambulance to come pick him up. We’re still not sure whether the ER docs sent him directly to ortho surgery or had to pump him out first, though. But we digress.
The hog? Oh yes. So we were stuck with this hog head after we’d eaten everything else off the carcass and we couldn’t quite figure out what to do with it. We pondered, discussed and debated until our brother suddenly remembered that he’d never seen a head blown up before and it just so happened that he had about a quarter pound of TNT laying about. Presumably he was using it as a paperweight, how the fuck would we know? It’s the sort of thing that you keep in your junk drawer after all.
He also had a cap and a det cord, because, after all, who doesn’t?, so we went on to stuff the head with TNT, wired it up and went on our merry way.
LCs, you have not lived until you’ve stood in a rain of blown pork noggin. OK, so it took a week before our ears stopped ringing, but it was worth it. And the police never found out about it either.
But it gave us an idea just now: Surely we have an abundance of hogs’ heads in this country, so why not stuff ’em with explosives and start dropping them all over the pisslamic countries in the world? We don’t need to use enough explosives to make them lethal or anything but, given the moose-slimes love of pork, wouldn’t it be a wonderful way to make a statement without actually wasting anything that we might could’ve used for something else?
Just a thought.