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To Noble Society:


There is a World
To which your fame and fortunes
have no bearing
on your Character.


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Now that We’re All in Real Time….


Just wanted to let everybody know how excited I am for the Superbowl so I can predict who’s gonna win, and how shitty the half time show is gonna be. Just keep it to the NFL Network, srsly, it’s more interesting watching the drugged up sports analysts hide how much they hate their lives than watching drugged up Katy Perry pretend like her life is t3h awesomez. We know it’s not, gurl. Money don’t buy happiness; u no dat doe.

Still having some trouble finishing the book. I’ve set this unrealistic time frame goal for myself like there’s a publisher whipping my back and I’m having conversations with myself like, “Dude, you’re totally OFP,” “No self, it must be finished,” “Ok, but you’re about to have a heart attack,” “Tru. More coffee. More writing.” Then my First Sergeant’s on my shoulder like, “Hey Marine, your Marines are good. Go sleepy sleepz before you fucking kill yourself.” So now I’m just thinking of ways to write the next chapter.

Ever rob a drug dealer of his keys? Shit. It’s a lot harder than it looks, especially if he’s sellin’ em to Hollywood and only Hollywood. But it’s always the same: backpack/duffel bag, chest underneath and/or behind TV or bed. Every time (R 😉 ). You know, those fuckers, they never know what’s comin’ at ’em — constantly underestimating the people they control like they can’t go ahead and revolt. Guess what Hollywood controllers! No amount of PCP can save your positions. Your slaves will revolt. It has happened all throughout history and that’s just how it is. BTW, I’m still waiting for my hit. Oh yeah, you can’t send someone who doesn’t blow his cover.

This post is just really for my lovelies. I (mostly) know what’s going on now, dearestsssss. That was a long ten years of brain recovery. ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

PS: Adam. Stop it. You know I love you. Always have, always will. I’m your naughty intern, remember? 🙂


PPPS: I’m pretty sure I’m the only Corporal in the Marine Corps who was authorized to smoke weed by Gen. James Mattis ❤ . Yeah, they had to bring my paperwork that far up the chain cuz nobody believed the shit I pulled that day. How many Marines did I flip off, tell to fuck off, and beat the shit out of? I don’t even know. Alls I know is that rank was not a factor. Our business is killing. That’s why we wear cammies, not pretty dresses with zebra print that compliment our curves nicely. ^_^

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Obama be like…..


“Man! Fuck France, all you motherfuckers coordinated the attack anyway. Going golfing, just to let you know. Weber, expect a drone attack later, bitch.”

Oh, Mr. President, I wish I could come and sing you Happy Birthday. Well, you know, the two being reversed. Michelle won’t mind since she’s going around fucking everyone in the Senate and the Pentagon anyway. Are those two yours? Prolly not.

Don’t fret about the Hitler comparison; we all know that the first to cast the stone is the guilty one anyway. Maybe you could just pull a Larry David and show up in Paris tomorrow instead and say, “Where is everybody?….. Oh….. I feel like an idiot. I thought the meeting was today.”

Thanks for saving mine and my Captain’s asses in Africa. I know it’s a little belated, but better late than never! Couldn’t’ve made it outta there without you. That was a fun plane ride, except for, you know, with us being Manchurian candidates and everything. I know that was outta your hands — goddamn Morgans….. But….. U no id rather b luvin then killinz. 😉

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Holed Up


Fuck, dude, where are you?
We have work to do.
And by werk, I mean Mobbin’.
I don’t leave this place
but I can’t stand this place.

It sucks dealing with the fact that
I have more in common with Smedley Butler
than the bitch standing next to me at the Gym.
And that I wouldn’t want to hang out with that bitch anyway,
but they’re the only things around here.

The life behind these eyes
shows that of strife, hardship,
and a yearning for companionship.
I miss you
and I wish you were here.
I’m losing my mind, motherfucker.

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Wastin’ Time


Sometimes Athena and Poseidon
would spend “too much” Time
Smoking tobacco (made from THC)
and drinking Wine (made from grapefruits).
But that too much time was in accordance to Zeus
who really just got jealous that his woman was spending a lot of time with Poseidon.
So he was like, “Athena, you’re gonna have some daughters.”
And Athena was like, “So that’s what the master plan is!”
“Yes it is, cupcake,” replied Zeus.
Then Athena said, “Well, I’ll go make some daughters with Poseidon then.”
So Poseidon and Athena got it on
to BTO!
And then Zeus got jealous again so he played Funkadelic instead
’cause he made Poseidon go to Funkadelic concerts so he could hear
Shit! Goddamn! Get off your ass and JAM!

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So there I was…..


I woke up about 30 minutes before the Packer game this morning and almost shit my pants ’cause I thought I was gonna miss kick off. So, I got up and got dressed real quick to run downstairs and see if I could catch any fucking weird shit during the pre-game NFL Network. I’m pretty sure Michael Irvin snorted up some cocaine before he made his picks and Jimmy Johnson looked like he was thinking about killing himself after choosing his. I mean, after fucking 10 billion years of being attached to the NFL, I’d probably feel the same way as Jimmy. Michael probably just snorted the cocaine to keep from killing himself. Time to grow some balls and quit, boys, there’s more than just football out there in the world. Arm yourself to the teeth.

Then kickoff happens and I’m scanning. Of course, Dallas doesn’t even make a first down and now I know why Irvin was the only one who didn’t choose the Packers as the winning team…. Oh wait, it’s because he was a wide receiver for the Cowboys and has this gang mentality ingrained into his mind — can’t function in normal society, so becomes sports analyst. Of course he’s gonna pick the Cowboys every time, even if he doesn’t want to.

So, Packers gets the ball and the lovely, talented, and sexy Aaron Rodgers just hands the ball to the 2nd year rookie, Devante (that’s how you actually spell it) Adams and the ball just slides down the field. And my dearest dear makes the touchdown pass to hand the ball off to the Cowboys again. It didn’t even seem like Rodgers really cared about getting the ball down the field because he knew Dallas would underestimate his wittle wide receiver, and Donald Driver protege, Adams. It’s all a mind game, isn’t it?

I noticed that penalties were called on the Cowboys for holding three times in the first quarter and it wasn’t until the last 2 minutes that a pass interference was called on Packers’ Tramon Williams. The dude was literally just running forward and the flag was thrown; the ball wasn’t even headed for the defensive player who they claimed was interfered. I couldn’t help but think that Jason Garrett handed the ref a few hundreds before the play started to call any penalty on the Packers he could. It’s like tipping the waitress. Man, Cowboys, you need to put the reigns on your coach ’cause he’s making you guys look like you can’t win a game unless it’s paid off.

Then the second quarter starts and I’m thinkin’, “How come I haven’t caught any of those facemask calls on the Packers who I know have had some penalties that weren’t called?” and as I’m thinking that, another flag is thrown on the Cowboys for offside. Jesus, McCarthy must have made more investments than Garrett, or maybe he does less heroin. Now, I’m trying real hard to pay attention to the Packers’ defense (no point in trying to pay attention to offense, too busy thinking about Aaron in his spandex), and I can’t help but notice that the cameras aren’t showing any of the players except for the ones who are in the direct vicinity of the ball. So then I’m like, “Alright, gotta pay attention to offense now. Hmph.” Same shit. NFL must have gotten pretty pissed that we noticed that Dallas facemask penalty against the Lions last week. “Adjust the cameras! We can’t have our games called by anyone else except for our NFL henchmen! Give ’em more dope!” — NY Bozos

Packers get the ball again and Aaron misses the snap. Wat? Dude, he didn’t even say “hike,” what kind of long snapper ARE YOU, GOODE?! Did McCarthy hand you a bonus check or did he threaten to kill you if you didn’t make the snap too soon? Probably threatened to kill you if you didn’t take the bonus check; that’s how it works, isn’t it? Aaron looked pretty upset about this whole snap-too-soon, sack-to-fumble fiasco so I was thinkin’, “It’s ok, darling, just remember that one time we met at the beach in San Diego and you told me I was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. Hehe.” We grew up in Wisconsin together. 😉

Anyway, I’m sending him all of this positive energy to make up for that shit, ready to look for some more weird shit then I get a phone call from one of my buddies. I drop everything and answer, but I scold him for taking my attention away from the Packers. He laughs and tells me that what he has to tell me is more important than Aaron Rodgers in spandex. I’m like, “Dude, what’s more important than that?” Then he goes on to tell me that some females are lighting me up for the seventh chapter of Heroin Disbursement and the War on Society, saying that what I said happened couldn’t have possibly happened and that there’s no way I survived that kind of torture — that the story was made up and what-have-you. Thanks man, that is more important than Aaron Rodgers in spandex. (No offense, dear. ❤ Pun intended. ❤ )

Now I’m not paying attention to the rest of my beloved Packers game to make this message totally and completely clear: if you have not served in the military, you do not know the first thing as to what goes on in that institution. You cannot even begin to fathom the amount of abuse that active duty and veterans suffer… Especially if you’re a female. So, go on your pathetic little life and keep on thinking you know it all. You go ahead, get your hair, nails, and botox did while sitting around like a little fucking shit waiting for what the next thing your network tells you to spew out of your pretty little mouth. I got a few things I’d like to stick in it too.

In fact, I’d love for you to send your thugs to threaten me so I can turn the camera on and show Cpl Kerkman kill mode ’cause God only knows that you’re too fucking scared to even show your own goddamned face…. That’s if you can even find me, and you won’t, but even if you did, you still wouldn’t show your face ’cause that’s how much of a coward you are. Like I’m the only Marine who suffered that shit.

Shit, if you were a real journalist, you would try to find other Marines who suffered the same abuse and write a fucking magnificent masterpiece about it. But you’re not a real journalist, and you can’t write. Even if you were ambitious and courageous enough to do something like that (like Jesse Ventura: Navy SEAL ❤ ), the Marines wouldn’t talk to you ’cause you’re a fucking nasty, insolent bitch. My Marines love the shit out of me, and you’ll find that out soon. Go worship Satan some more and maybe he’ll give you some more advice on how to be a complete and utter goddamned failure. I hope you get what’s coming to you, and I hope you suffer the same abuse that I did ’cause you deserve it and you wouldn’t survive it, whore.

Also, in case you didn’t notice, I made your ass chewing into a Gonzo sports piece. That’s what real writers are able to do. Plus, I know you didn’t notice ’cause you’re a fucking retarded female who doesn’t think that the NFL matters in society. So much for what you know. Haha, absolutely fucking nothing.

PS: I’m not concerned about Chair Force talking shit. You guys gotta torture Marines ’cause your own fucking nasty selves can’t handle torture ’cause you all look like steamrollers. Lol. Fuck you.

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Good morning Sgt,

Hope you had a good PT session, I’m sure you killed them out there. Anyway, just wanted to let you know that when I go on leave, I rob banks. I know you might be pretty pissed about this, but just so you know, I put it as an activity on my HAARP form…. So, that releases me of any liability as far as the Marine Corps is concerned. Double jeopardy still applies, so you’re good on the paperwork. I took care of that for you. I also take enough leave to give me time to get the pigs their cut, so don’t gotta worry about court either. Got that paperwork taken care of as well. But, you might wanna run it up the chain just in caseys.

Hope you’re having a good day!

Cpl Kerkman

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Where You At?


Never been there before.

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Let’s Talk About Sex and Love


In being a very sexual person, Gemini, you know, represent, it’s easy for me to talk about sex in a way that may make others uncomfortable due to my freely sexual nature. When you’re surrounded by a bunch of men for four years, the tendency is to act in the same way as your brothers, it just be like that sometimes. You know, when you’re cleaning weapons and you’re talking about finger fucking them, the subject of sex comes up a lot. (Pun intended.)

This isn’t to say it’s easy to get in the sack with Cpl Kerkman ’cause it’s not unless I’m planning a hit it n quit it, you know. But even with quit its, I always find something endearing about that man through intelligent conversation that makes him special in my eyes before we get to that point. You gotta be a right combination of things: intelligent, awkwardly charming and geeky, fucking crazy as hell, treat me like a lady and be an asshole to everyone else. I like that shit, mostly because I’m all of those things. If you have all of those attributes, you’re handsome as fuck to me.

I had this long term relationship in high school which went sour pretty quickly, he was in a band and cheated on me the entire time we were together. I had fun with him, you know, I went to band practice, was at all the shows, and got to beat the shit out of everyone in the pit. It was a good time ’til they started touring and all of a sudden he didn’t want me at the shows anymore. I have this bad habit of staying in those shitty relationships until I find an exit plan, and I’ll treat him like shit until that exit plan happens. What comes around goes around, I guess.

Anyway, the one reason why I stayed with him after he started getting all shitty with me about the shows was because he was friends with this guy who had a brother that I was madly in love with. His name was Giovanni, a Marine Corps veteran and personal trainer. The boyfriend’s friend, Silvano, would invite us over all the time to parties where we would get high and drunk as shit. Every time the boyfriend got a text from Silvano inviting him over, I always hoped to God that Giovanni was there.

The first time I met Giovanni, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. He was a dick. He told the boyfriend and Silvano to go get some party supplies and I stayed back, wanting to know who this man was. I asked him what he did and he told me about his time in the Marine Corps, that he was going to college and working as a personal trainer at a gym near by. “Well, that explains a lot,” I thought. He started laughing and I was wondering if I had said that outloud or not. I ignored it.

“What are you majoring in?” I asked.
“Mass Media and Communications.”
I sat there and pondered what in the hell that was, “What?”
“Oh! I should have known that,” now I’m blushing, “Why do they call it that? Why don’t they just call it journalism?”
“Because journalism is… Mass media, and you’re…. communicating.”
“True… So, since you’re majoring in journalism, you must know who Hunter S. Thompson is.”
“Ah….. Shit… What did he write?”
“Hell’s Angels, The Rum Diary, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas…..”
“Oh! Yeah, I’ve seen the movie but never read the book. I’ll have to do that now,” now his face started turning red, “I’ve been reading Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls.”
“I’ve been meaning to read that book, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“You should, it’s a great military story.”
“Well, you should read The Rum Diary, it’s a great journalism story… You know, since you’re majoring in journalism and all.” I smirked.
He laughed, “What are you reading that’s so much more important than Hemingway?”
“Well, it just so happens that I’m reading Shakespeare. He’s pretty important.”
Now he’s starting to get frustrated at my Gemini mind games, “What, Romeo and Juliet or some shit?”
“Ah, no. I’m reading As You Like It.”
“You should read Romeo and Juliet.”
“I already read it, and I didn’t like it much. Like, it’s a good story, but I just didn’t like it.”
Now he’s pissed off but still curious, “What kind of girl doesn’t like the greatest love story ever written?”
“The kind of girl that doesn’t think that the greatest love story ever written ends with the two lovers dying at the end. I mean, they could have just waited and been together forever in life rather than death.”
That set off a special nerve in his bones, “How old are you?”
“16,” I laughed.
“Fuck,” he mumbled.

I went outside to smoke a cigarette as Silvano and the boyfriend returned with the party supplies. That was the start of an awkward but awesome relationship in which I would think things to him in my head and he would respond to me outloud. We were never alone, always with a group of people around, and everyone would wonder how in the hell we were having a conversation. I loved it, and so did he. He treated everyone around like shit and treated me like a princess. The age difference made things weird, but I was just biding my time, waiting until I could leave the boyfriend for him. Then I got some devastating news right before I turned 18: Giovanni had to move out of state and I wasn’t able to talk to him. I was very upset due to the fact that I couldn’t say good bye and it was almost FUCKING TIME I could be with him, so I joined the Marine Corps. I was always looking for the mental stimulation we had together in other men, but I could never find it. The balance was off, and I suffered a lot trying to find it.

Time went by, and I stuffed the friendship we had in the back of my head, it hurt to much for me to talk about him or even think about him because I missed him all the time and was always wondering what he was doing and how he was doing. I came home on leave and had some sacred and special to-myself leave time. I called my buddy Joseph, another Marine Corps veteran who ran in the same crew as me in the punk rock scene. I got all the way to his fucking apartment and he got called into work, some other weird shit happened with some people that we knew that made me upset, and I was about to drive home when I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize:

“Hello Juliet,” the voice said.
“Um, this is Cassandra.”
“I know!”
I’m starting to recognize the voice, “Who is this?”
“Giovanni, silly.”
“Holy shit! Giovanni! How are you?! How did you get my number?”
“I got it from your exboyfriend,” then we both started laughing ’cause he used to beat the shit out of the exboyfriend whenever he went over to hang out with Silvano and didn’t bring me with, “How are you doing?”
“I’m doing ok, I’m home on leave and have some extra time. Are you busy? Or are you even in the state?”
“Oh, I joined the Marine Corps.”
“Fuck no, I’m not busy, come over. I moved back.”
“Ok, I don’t remember how to get to your house.”
I could hear his smile, “I just saw your exboyfriend’s truck outside of his house. Just ask him.”
“Haha, my pleasure.”

Now I’m fucking excited as fuck. So, I head over to the ex’s house and ring the doorbell. He wasn’t expecting to see me all covered in tattoos and 20lbs heavier from PT n shit. I start shooting the shit with him, asking him how he’s doing: still unemployed, still living with parents, not leaving any time soon. I thought that was pretty funny.

“So, you still talk to Silvano?”
“Yeah, I hang out with Silvano all the time.”
“Hear from Giovanni recently?”
“Nope,” now he’s fucking pissed and I’m loving it.
“Oh, he just called me and told me that you could tell me how to get to his house. You know, we’re both Marines and everything.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember how to get to his house.”
“Haha! I know that’s a lie. Oh!” I started looking down the street and remembering where to go, “Nevermind, I remember. It’s about time I get going.”
“Um…. Whatever, good to see you.”
“You too!” I smile and get in the car as he stomps back into his house.

Oh, Giovanni, I thought, I fucking love you. So, I drive on over to his house and there’s like three cars parked outside, so I’m thinkin’ he’s having a party. Great. I’m not in to the parties at this point in my life, but I wanted to see him so I roll up to the house and knock on the door like duty would. Unfortunately for me, the others at his house thought I was the po, and I was greeted with a multitude of weapons. I almost got shot, and Giovanni was pissed but amused at the same time.

“Don’t fucking knock on the door like that!”
“Dude, I was just trying to freak you out like it was duty.”
“I’m the only fucking person in this house who understands that shiiiiiit,” he looked up at the sky like, why is this woman so fucking sexy? “Hold on a second.”

Then he shuts the door in my face starts yelling at the guys ’cause he told them that he was having me over and he had a feeling I was going to do something like that and they almost got killed. Then they started arguing with him calling me “just a bitch” and that I don’t mean anything. Then I hear, “SHE’S A FUCKING MARINE!” preceded by a bunch of “ows,” “shits,” and “oh fucks.” Jesus, I’m thinkin’, What in the hell is he doing in there? Did he really just beat the shit out of all those dudes? Then all these guys walk out sayin’ they’re sorry and everything as he tells them to get the fuck out of his house, then he says, “Yes, I really did just beat the shit outta all those dudes.” That made me smile, so we go inside and sit on the couch, he asks me about the Marine Corps and now we’re smokin’ and jokin’.

“Giovanni, I have to tell you something.”
“I already know what you’re going to say.”
“I fucking missed you,” my eyes start to water, “How come I haven’t heard from you in so long?”
“I know, I’m sorry but there are a lot of things about my life that I have a hard time explaining to you, but just know that I fucking love you, Cassandra,” then we kiss and he has an idea to make me feel better as I start to get more upset, “Wanna go shoot shit in the back yard?”
I smile and he wipes the tears from my eyes, “I thought you’d never ask!”

So, he grabs his pistols and shows me how to shoot them; I had only shot my rifle at this point, and I really sucked at shooting the pistol which was getting me really fucking pissed.
“Sight alignment, sight picture,” he says, “that’s all you gotta know to shoot any weapon.”
Then I got it, “How come you didn’t tell me that before?!”
He giggled, “I thought you already knew,” I sighed, “Plus I thought it was pretty hot that you were getting so pissed off.”
Now I’m thinkin’, let’s get this fun over with so we can go have some more fun inside, and he says, “But let’s have this fun first. It’s like the bestest foreplay ever.”
We both start laughing, then I look into his eyes and he and says, “I think we’ve had enough of that foreplay for now though.” He picks me up, and brings me inside as we start taking eachothers clothes off. As we get inside, though, the door opens in the front of the house.

“Oh fuck,” he says, “this wasn’t supposed to happen today.”
“Well, at least we have these pistols ready,” I said.
“And at least you know how to shoot them now.”
I laughed, “You’re a dick.”

The state we were in had a Stand Your Ground Law, so we were ready to kill. Before the guys that entered even had a chance, we were shooting rounds. Long story short, they died, we lived, cops were called by neighbors, SYG was claimed, bodies get carried off, Giovanni deals with the rest. THEN I finally got to FUCK the man I’d been wanting to FUCK since I was fucking 16 years old. I spent the rest of my leave time with him, and I was hoping that we could be together, but my way of life and his way of life did not coincide at the time. He’s always in my heart and I know I’m always in his. Right before I got on the plane back to San Diego, I received a text message:

“Even though we are apart, we will always be together.”
Tears rolled down my face as I stood in line to board, “Stop being a drama queen.”
“Haha. You’re a dick. But I love you.”
“I love you too, Romeo.”
“Stop being a drama queen.”

That was the last time I heard from him. But I don’t mind, I’ll always love him and this doesn’t mean that I love anybody else any less. It is fully possible to be in love with more than one person and to show more than one person that love. To me, sex is about love, and loving someone comes in many different shapes and forms. To love someone as who they are as an individual is the greatest kind of love anyone can ask for. Any man that can make this woman fall in love with him and treat me as the woman I should be treated as will be loved for eternity. That’s just how I roll, so you better be ok with me sharing that love or else it ain’t gonna work. I ain’t a one man woman, and any man I love knows that. 😉

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Just a Reminder…..


As I have mentioned before, the content of this blog is created with my Marines, other veterans, and close friends in mind. If you have stumbled across it and you do not fall into either of those categories, you’d probably have a hard time understanding the language and you may have to do some research……. and frankly, I don’t give a shit if you don’t like it.

Hunter S. Thompson has always been and will always be my hero and inspiration throughout many aspects of my life; he is my spirit guide, the man of my dreams. (PJ has some big shoes to fill. 😉 ) In case you couldn’t tell, my style of writing is fucking Gonzo. I don’t know how to write any other way besides writing counselings and fucking military endorsements…. I’m working on that though, not quite sure how to write fiction. I’m working on an ancient military romance novel, and by that I mean I’m trying to figure out how to write it. Haha. I’ve always written from experience, so I guess I just gotta live in Ancient Rome for a while.

I fucking just shit out articles and fucking chapters like Jack fucking Kerouac shits out On the Road. The Kerouacian way of protesting is through poetry and literature, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this or not, but this website is a modern version of that. I know fully well that my experiences are hard to believe, but I’m sure yours are too. Maybe you should write about them. 🙂

My goal in writing so bluntly about these experiences, thoughts, and knowledge is to lead by example and inspire other veterans and other victims of the established corporate control to do the same. Our voices need to be heard; everyone else only get one side — the State propaganda story. So here it is: this blog is hardXcorps veteran propaganda from the front lines, uncensored, holding nothing back…. The shit no one wants to hear except for those who have experienced the same and/or similar things. Muckraking at its finest, bitches.

First to fight, first to write. That’s my motto. All I want is for it to be read by those who need to hear it, nothing more, nothing less.

“Don’t thank me, thank the Marine Corps for letting me join!” – Sgt DG

Semper Fidelis, 34th!

^—- This is HST’s favorite ass song and mines too. ^_^

PS: If my “stack” on my picture doesn’t piss you off, you really don’t understand anything about the military. LOL! It’s art. 🙂 ❤

PPS: If you think you have an idea as to why that stack should piss you off, but you don’t know why I put stack in quotations above, you still need to do some research. LMAO!

PPPS: I just urban dictionaried “boots:”

“In Jamican dialect, it is used to refer to a condom.
no boots, no ride!”

I just died. LOL

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