PAO goes insane

For those of you who don’t know I served for a year in Iraq as a journalist with the Headquarters element of the 4th Infantry Division.

The hours were long. The heat was grueling and to be honest I was so focused on my mission, I might have gone a little nuts.

There was one week, however, when there were no missions to write about, no MWR events to take photos of and no partnership training events with the Iraqi Security Forces to cover.

After 6 months straight of busting my ass to get as many stories approved and published as possible, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I actually stressed out about not having any work to do.

I thought I was cracking up.

How did I cope?

I wrote a fake news story about cracking up, the soldiers I as embedded with at the time liked it so much they insisted we take photos to go along with it. I cannot emphasize enough that these shots were staged and while real no weapons were loaded in these photos. 

I hope you enjoy my insanity as much as I did. 

Spc. Andrew Ingram

Ft. Leavenworth Public Affairs

CONTINGENCY OPERATING SITE WARRIOR, Iraq – Two soldiers received minor wounds when two public affairs specialists lost their minds and began assaulting people earlier today.

            Staff Sgt. Robert Dedeaux and Spc. Andrew Ingram stormed into the headquarters of the 101st Brigade Support Battalion on COB Warrior with a battering ram.

Weapons drawn, they demanded that everyone get on the floor. Then, one-by-one, they began to question the hostages.

            “It was completely insane” said Spc. Walt Anderson, who declined to mention his unit or job description, but was very proud to say he was from Granit Bay, Claif. “They came in the door with a battering ram! I don’t know why they did that ‘cuz the door wasn’t even locked!”

            The deranged soldier’s questions seemed to mainly revolve around basic information about the hostages’ daily lives and duties during deployment.

            “The Specialist kept screaming ‘What’s your full name!? What unit do you belong to? ALPA WHAT!?’” explained a shell shocked Pfc. who started crying when asked for her identity. “Then the big Staff Sgt. started shouting ‘GIVE ME THE FORT RILEY TIE-IN! HOW ARE YOU CONTRIBUTING TO OPERATION NEW DAWN!?  I’ve never been so scared in my life! I thought we were all going to die.”

            Several sources corroborate that when Dedeaux was not demanding command messages from his hostages he continually muttered the word “chicken” under his breath.”

            “It was really weird,” said a guy from 2nd Platoon, Company C, 101st Brigade Support Battalion, 1st Advise and Assist Brigade, 1st infantry Division, who’s name I forgot to write down.

            10 minutes into the fiasco members of the Kirkuk Police Emergency Response Unit’s raid team and soldiers from the 12th Iraqi Army Division’s commando battalion launched an assault on the 101st headquarters to free the hostages.

            During the ensuing firefight the looney public affairs soldiers managed to shoot each other in the kneecaps, presumably so they could get purple hearts.

            Both madmen were taken alive. As they were dragged away by MPs, Ingram screamed over and over at the top of his lungs through fits of maniacal laughter and weeping, “THE NEWS NEVER SLEEPS, THE NEWS NEVER SLEEPS!”

              The psychotic duo traveled by police pick-up truck to the EMEDS where a confidential source said they were treated for their kneecaps as well as severe exhaustion and caffeine withdrawal.

            “That stupid specialist stopped drinking coffee half way through a deployment,” said the source, who could be demoted and sent to work in the commandants office for revealing patients information. “That’s the message we want to tell the soldiers on the ground. Caffeine is an essential part of a soldier’s warrior diet. How can you expect to stay in top killing shape if you aren’t jacked up on Rip-its and espresso all the time?”

            Maj. Mini, the dimwitted duo’s OIC said he realized he was probably working his soldiers too hard when he assigned the task of writing this story to the very soldiers who perpetrated the crime in the first place.

            Aside from minor grammar errors, pointed out by an unnamed source, the story was submitted at 11:59 Thursday morning, just in time to make the front page of the Ivy Leaf before the idiots were put on a plane for Ft. Leavenworth.

  

Staff Sgt. Robert Dedeaux and Spc. Andrew Ingram stack on a friendly building in preparation for an interview.

“So I'm going to need your name your rank your unit home town and why don't you just throw in your bank account info and your mothers maiden name,” demands Spc. Andrew Ingram, public affairs psyco as Staff Sgt. Robert Dedeaux chokes out the interviewee.

Spc. Andrew Ingram searches for interview subjects

The departure of Master Sgt. Daugherty

So things with my job are crazy right now, and unfortunately I do not have the time to focus on my writing as much as I would like. However I know all of my readers have been eagerly awaiting my next entry so I decided to dig into the vault on this one.

To preface this entry has nothing to do with music. I wrote it during my deployment to Iraq in 2011. I wrote it as a joke for my supervisor as she returned to the states early to attend the Sergeants Major academy.

Although the individuals in this story are real people, their quotes are not; none of these events actually happened, and this should not be taken as anything other than a lark on my part.

Please enjoy.

Spc. Andrew Ingram

U.S. Division-North Public Affairs

CONTINGENCY OPERATING BASE SPEICHER, Iraq – Master Sgt. Carmen Daugherty, noncommissioned officer in charge, public affairs office and all around social butterfly, 4th Infantry Division and U.S. Division-North, departed Contingency Operating Base Speicher, Iraq, May 6.

            Even as the wheels of the C-130 left the tarmac headed to Joint Base Balad and America, things started to go wrong for Task Force Ironhorse.

             Immediately moral dropped as the number of parties thrown plummeted, and as a result AFES could not afford to keep the PX open, further depleting the already depressed moral of the COB Speicher Soldiers.

            “We didn’t realize how important she was to the mission,” said Sgt. or Staff Sgt. Brad Baker, (He really wants to be a staff sergeant). “I work on night shift so I never saw her, but now when I show up for work everyone is grouchy.”  

            Additionally USD-N team found it impossible to complete their assigned tasks, because supply never seemed to have paper or printer cartages. It turns out Daugherty was responsible for some under-the-table deal that insured supplies made it to the company supply rooms on time.

            None of the DSTB’s 92Y would comment on the kerfuffle.

            Without Daugherty’s ability to wheel-and-deal the public affairs shop soon grew to be hated by the rest of the staff. Every time a soldier came in looking for a photo or photographer Sgt. 1st Class Brent Williams would reply with “Rucka, rucka, rucka, command information, rucka, rucka, no special favors, rucka, rucka, kill.”

            When the PA shops new hardliner mentality butted heads with the G6 shop’s love for red tape it started a chain reaction which lead to an all out riot. (Spc. Fabian wanted glamour shots for his portfolio, Spc. Ingram wanted to put World of Warcraft on his NIPER computer and things kinda snowballed, next thing you know G1 has declared a blood feud against the division engineers and the commandants office went on strike, it was a messy affair but I digress.)

            “I see any of them Div. Engineer SOBs, whoowee I’m gonna bust some heads,” said Spc. Jacob Upchurch, admin specialist and G1 hit man. They can’t talk good and their mothers dress them funny.”

            In the end Sgt. Maj. Dailey had to karate chop everyone into submission and article 15s were dropped from command group onto the JOC floor like confetti.

            The new chaplain, Lt. Col. Keith Goode, will hold a memorial service for the soldiers killed during the madness next week.

            The names of the deceased are being withheld pending notification of next of kin…. But I will tell you that most of the deaths took place during the Great G7 Fire. (Michael Bay is already showing interest in turning this tragic event into a multimillion-dollar blockbuster.)  

            Fed up with how crazy everything had gotten at D-Main without her, Maj. Gen. David G. Perkins personally flew to States to plead with Daugherty to return.

            “We realized that the 4th Infantry Division needs good senior NCO’s like Master Sgt. Daugherty,” said Perkins. “Please come back and fix everything!”

            Perkins offered Daugherty a battlefield promotion to Sergeant Major, but Daugherty said the only way she would return to Iraq is if she was allowed to bring her trusty dog Tripper with her.

The Grammys

or how America learn to stop worrying and embrace mediocre music

I realize I'm a little late to the game on this one. The grammy nods were released almost 2 months ago and everybody who gives a damn has already shared their opinion with the unwashed masses of the internet crowd. So why haven't I weighed in yet?

Like I said, anybody who gives a damn already has and quite frankly I don't. I stopped caring about the Grammys after I realized most of the music I loved or respected probably wouldn't win. 

Maybe I should have watched last year. I mean the Foo Fighters kicked ass and they deserved album of the year. 

"Will I watch them this year?" you ask. 

I can almost guarantee you I won't. I mean there's a new episode of the Walking Dead out that night and I honestly couldn't be bothered.

My original intent for this entry was to listen to music from artists in each of the categories and share what I think about what the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences says is good music this year. (according to Yahoo answers that's who chooses the winners, and why would Yahoo Answers lie?) (Now type that question into Yahoo Answers, and see what happens.)

Anyway that plan lasted about twenty minutes, in which I listened to half a dozen songs, threw a cup of water against the wall, screamed into a pillow and developed a migraine. I mean how the hell is that inspirationless Kelly Clarkson song nominated for best record?

In-between bouts of sobbing and black rage fits of swearing I took a couple of notes. Hear are my favorites:

I hope your ready for an in depth analysis of each of the categories and their nominees! This should only take about 5000 words. I'm just kidding mom and my three Facebook friends who aren't related to me. I wouldn't put you through that.

I am so sick of Taylor Swift's glasses. Taylor, you are a pop star, not a nerd. You've been famous since you were sixteen and cannot genuinely understand what it means to be a teenaged girl, no matter how many Molly Ringwald movies you've seen. Oh, I'm sorry Molly, I meant Mandy Moore movies.

I want to bitch slap the singer from Fun, just once, to see if he would cry. To be fair I haven't listened to their entire album, but what I have heard on the radio makes me want to… well make their singer cry.

Thats about as far as I got before I threw my arms up in despair and put on some Dylan to save my everlasting soul from pop-star purgatory, before falling into a deeply troubled sleep.

Never the less when I woke up this morning, I resolved to finish what I had started I played Frank Ocean's Thinkin Bout You, (He's nominated for 3 Grammy's), threw up and went to work.

Lucky for my sanity and probably for you the reader as well, one of my coworkers talked me out of continuing this self abuse.

He said exactly what I said at the beginning of this entry, anybody who gives a damn has probably already said their piece, what the hell are you going to add to the discussion. Right there he gave me an out, and I would have taken it and scrapped the whole article. But then he said something that made me decide to salvage if only to share his point.

"It's not just that the Grammy's suck because they don't recognize the music I like," he said. "The whole concept of deciding for the whole world what music is worthy and what sucks is ridiculous."

He said some other hippy crap about how we should just decide what music we like ourselves and be content with that. 

Personally I like sharing my views on music. In our overly PC society, the only times you can be a completely self righteous, sarcastic bastard are when you're talking about music or sports and sadly neither the Redskins or Colts made it past the first round this year so I'll stick to music, it's what I know best anyway. But even better I get to talk about music I love and musicians I respect, on occasion finding out about a new group from a friend or sharing a tune my buddies haven't heard before.

Still my co-worker's point is well taken. Hailing one musician or song above the rest is kind of stupid. The musician is just a person… probably a pretty talented one, but a person all the same, do we really need to inflate the egos of rock stars who spend every night getting cheered by thousands of adoring fans? 

I'd say no. And to be honest, I'm pretty excited to see weather Merle and Daryl can get out of Woodbury without killing each other. 

Mohammed rocked the Kasbah

A few days ago my mom told me about a book she was reading called Who is this man?, which explores the sociological impact of western culture and civilization left by the life of Jesus Christ.

It sounded like an interesting book but as so often happens when one is born with a healthy dose of ADD, as my mother explained how the rights women and children enjoy in most of the developed world can be directly attributed to a carpenter from a small town in Galilee, my mind wondered off in a much more trivial line of thought and I made an amazing connection... Mohammed invented Rock n' Roll!

Yes this is how my mind works.

Yes I know it’s a problem. But...

Would I change it?

Hell no! I have way too much fun in my own head to fix it with meds or therapy.

Anyway back on topic.

My mother's comments about Jesus' impact not only on the religion but on even the most basic interactions in our culture got me wondering how the other dynamic religious figure of the A.D. era affects our daily lives in ways we don't even realize.

No not you David Koresh, you crazy gun toting bastard.

Mohammad.

I mean he's in the title so it’s kind of obvious?

By the time of his death or ascension in 632 A.D. Mohammed had converted or conquered almost all of the Middle East and much of northern Africa.

In 711 A.D. the Moors, African Muslims, set out to conquer Europe, or at least part of it. I don't really know how far they wanted to get, because I'm not going to research this any farther than the first page of Google entries, but they succeeded in taking and holding basically all of Spain for the better part of a century.

In addition to bringing famine, disease and the convert or die attitude typically associated with holy war, the moors also brought with them the oud a stringed instrument the Europeans promptly added frets too and started calling Lute, because, well, oud sounds funny.

According to the internet, which as we all know is infallible, over the next few hundred years the lute and other stringed instruments like it contributed to the design of the guitar.

Do you see where I'm going with this now?

By the early Renaissance the guitar had become a popular tool to encourage young damsels into the back of your daddy's carriage and generally piss off the old timers still listening to that out-dated oud crap.

Fast forward to 1920s U.S.A.

The guitar has become the mainstay of country, folk, and even that new-fangled jazz nonsense. But the instrument also call to the soul of the disenfranchised sons of freed slaves, those who couldn't get behind the positivity of gospel or the wild, joyous abandon of jazz. For the next 30 years or so, the instrument underwent some vast changes thanks to guys like Les Paul, pioneer of the electric guitar. 

Bluesmen like Muddy Waters took Les' innovations to a dark place, feeding their frustrations and sexual desires through pickups and amplifiers.

Meanwhile Hank Williams and the country crowd, staying more or less acoustic were grabbing white peoples attention with catchy tunes about cowboys and heartbreak.

Finally we get to the fun stuff, as most of you probably know the 1950s brought us a marriage of these two approaches to music in the form of these guys:

The point of this particular entry isn't to start arguments about who invented rock n' roll, so I'm going to keep it simple. Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley blended anger and passion of black bluesmen with the quick tempo and… crackerness of country to create Rock n' Roll. Almost overnight it became the music of youth culture and stayed that way for the entire second half of the 20th century.

In western culture that is. In the middle east, Rock n' Roll has been banned in many countries and is called a tool of western imperialism by many political and religious leaders in the region. The Clash even wrote a song about it… you know the one I referenced in the title…

That silly Sharif he should have known Rock n' Roll has nothing to do with western expansionism. In fact, I bet Mohammed himself would get down to some Zeppelin.

 

Live music

So I'm sitting on the floor in my living room, sipping Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey (My new favorite drink) and watching a live DVD of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (I think I mentioned their my favorite band) playing shows Europe.

I'm a huge fan of live music. Growing up I really didn't have a whole lot of chances to see anybody live except the church worship band, (which to be fair had some very talented musicians) and high school bands made up of my buddies, again not bad considering their age and experience, but you can only hear the same 4 guys play the same 3 songs so many times.

In collage I got to experience the live club scene for the first time. I spent my first year of school in British Columbia, and there were a lot of new bands in the area. It was a lot of fun to watch these young guys gigging around trying to find their sound. To my knowledge none of the guys I saw that year have made it big, but there were a couple I thought were really good. 

I remember there was this one group, I think they were called Johnny Goode, playing off the whole Chuck Berry thing. They had sort of a dark power poppy vibe to them, like if cheap trick and the early Cure formed a supergroup, except their singer had this really cool soulful voice. I just tried to look them up online but can't find anything on them, so I assume they've either broken up or changed their name.

I spent my second year of college back in the states screwing around and not going to class. By the end of my second semester at community college I decided it was the Army life for me.

 But before I signed on the dotted line and sold my soul to Uncle Sam I got to spend a kickass summer as an employee of a medium sized concert venue in northern Virginia. The pay was garbage, but the perks were amazing. (Ironically that's what my recruiter said about the Army.)

My first day of work I got to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, and all I had to do was help the venue's elite clientele find their seats in the VIP section. Most of them were Season Ticket holders, who knew more about the place then I did, which meant that 90% of the time I got to sit back and watch the show, with only the occasional interruption to tell the low rent costumers to get the hell back to the cheap seats. (Yes, I was that asshole.) They put on a great show and ended the night and in honor of Bo Diddly who had died earlier that week the band ended the show with a pretty awesome rendition of Who do you Love?.

That summer was full of good shows. The Dave Matthews Band was predictably great. 311 and Snoop Dog did a show, I'm not a huge fan of either of their music, but they blew the roof off the place. I also took great pleasure in calling my dad during the middle of a Neal Pert drum solo, just to rub in his nose in the fact that I was at a Rush concert and he wasn't. My dad, who's been a fan of Canada's Prog rock kings since he was in middle school, calmly pointed out that he'd seen Phil Collins and Clapton play together when he was in college, which kind of took the wind out of my sails.

Unfortunately, I got that job a week to late to catch Radiohead. I wasn't as in to them then as I am now, but one of the other ushers told me it had been 35 degrees and raining during their show, and not a single person left the show before the encore. Sounded like a hell of a show.

The best gig I saw that summer was an epic godfathers of metal type show. Motorhead opened up the the show. I'm trying to keep my profanity to a minimum, but when Lemmy opened up the show, he blew my F*&#ing socks off. I could feel that cigarette grit and whiskey soaked growl in my very soul. Lemmy Kilmister truly is the troll god of metal.

Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to be as enraptured by the performance as I was. Motorhead was the first group on, and the sun was still up in the July evening sky. Half the ticket holders hadn't shown up yet, and with the exception of the 11-year-old die-hards who had shown up with cardboard cutouts of guitars to use as head banging dance partners, people were more interested in getting overpriced nachos then listening to the epicness that is the Iron Fist.

So the band finished their set and exacted their revenge on the nacho eating creations by setting their guitars down against their huge stacks of amps leaving a squeal of feedback as they exited the stage, causing many of the nacho eaters to cover their ears and mutter curses about the damned opening act. I cheered.

Heaven and Hell followed and did a pretty good job. They didn't blow me away or anything, but I got to see Ronnie James Dio sing before he died, and listen to Tony Iommi, creator of the Heavy Metal guitar, shred through some classic Sabbath tunes. I thought there would be more showmanship but all in all a pretty solid performance.

Judas Priest closed out the show with a shotgun blast of equal parts black fury and glimmering glam bubblegum. 

There was only one downside… the fans. 

I swear I saw 40-year-old men with wedding rings on their fingers screaming like pre-teen girls at a Beatles or Beiber show at the sight o Rob Halford astride his massive Harley. 

This is not a euphemism. Priest's frontman road onto stage on a huge black bike wearing a shiny gold cape.

Yes, the show was just as cheesy and gimmicky as it sounds, but the crowd was electric, old dude's crying and all. With the exception of Kiss or Bowie I'm not sure anyone could have topped the pure showmanship. (If anyone comments Lady GaGa I'll track you down and beat you with a rubber hose)

 I think that was the last show I saw before basic training. 

Unfortunately I missed Slipknot by a week. Of course the Jonas Brothers also played that weekend so we're going to let that one go.