Find the Filth / The Name Game

tommyrawblog@gmail.com

Here's a couple more quick navy boot camp going's on. Lemme tell you guys, it was really a fucking "Bazarro" world no doubt. Up was down, black was white... and NOTHING mattered at all except how perfect your fucking underwear were folded... LoL... I shit you not!

Stick yourself inside those pics and see if you can feel the humiliation that was... and is... boot camp. I bet you'd feel as stupid as I did. Good grief.

And yes... I must thank Felix Unger himself
for that first title.
Remember that episode?
The Odd Couple still rulez!!

Find the Filth

Has your mother ever yelled at you for not cleaning up your room?

Didn’t ya just hate that shit?

Well, if you hated that, you would’ve fuckin’ died with the way these uptight assholes in the Navy inspected our gear.

You just had to see how these guys went through our stuff. These a-holes were the driving force behind the saying, went through our stuff with a fine-tooth comb.

It was unbelievable!

And then when they found something that wasn’t quite up to their standards during one of their rants, lookout. They would pull it out of the locker, and toss it across the room. Or, even worse, place it over your head like a mask.
It was fuckin’ hilarious.

They’d have us all lined up in front of our bunks and lockers and then they'd take us out one by fucking one. Too fucking funny.

This was one of the normal routine inspections.
I'm standing about 4 or 5 guys away over to the left.

Now, there were two kinds of inspections. The daily routine kind, and then, the totally insane fine tooth comb inspections.

A routine inspection was like a stroll in the park. Our commander would calmly walk up and down the ranks and have his assistant jot down any discrepancies found. No big deal.

He would poke through your locker a bit, give you a half-hearted once over, and then move on to the next victim.

One of the first items that came into view during a locker inspection was your underwear. They were brite white, usually. Piled high at a 90-degree angle, alongside the locker wall, and stuck out like Howard Stern would
at a fuckin' midget convention.

Now, if you remember from a couple stories back, I said that I didn’t wear any underwear. So, I folded my pile perfectly, just once, and never touched them again my entire stay. Well, almost.

I practically glued the folded crease of each pair to a sharpened edge. The stacked line was so straight that the inspector was almost always completely blown away by this. And he usually didn’t even bother to inspect the rest of my gear.

There they are... the dreaded lockers!
Look how shitty that stack of underwear looks...
mine could cut you like a knife... LoL
During one of those drunken crazy inspections
those assholes would just grab everything from your locker
and toss it in the air. Too funny.

He would just move on to the next dummy, and continue on with the inspection. Too fuckin' beautiful huh? The PS22 scammer lives muthafucka... he lives!!

But then there was the second kind of inspection. It wasn’t so much an inspection as it was a bunch of drunken Petty Officers
fuckin' with us.

And lemme tell ya, no one's underwear was safe when these things happened.

Just listen to this mess.

We would be just hangin’ out when out of the blue the barracks door would swing open. Six or seven Petty Officers would come barreling in yelling and screaming at us to get up, and get in line in front of our bunks.

Then these assholes would randomly walk up and down the line, verbally assaulting us, while at the same time, pull all of our clothes out of the locker and onto the floor.
It was pretty funny actually.

I pictured these assholes hangin' at the bar boozing then coming up with the brilliant idea of fucking with us. I'm sure this isn't how it went down, but I have my suspicions... LoL Only because that's would I would have done!!

They made guys put their underwear on their heads, and walk around saying,
“I am a loser.
I like wearing underwear on my head!”
Stupid shit like that.

Again, if it wasn’t happening to you, it was the funniest muthafucking thing that you have ever seen in your life. Grown men, humiliating other grown, albeit clueless, men. Absolutely hilarious!

But faghettaboudit if one of those jerkoff's caught you laughin’. For if they did, you not only would have underwear over your head chanting some ridiculous Shaman-like mantra, but you’d be doing push-ups at the same time
during your punishment.

Well, with all the fucking pushups I did in boot camp, you would think I’d have a muscle or two somewhere on this fuckin’ body of mine. But no, not a muscle in sight! Just an unused pair underwear on my head.

There we are inside the gym trying to get in shape.
That's me below the blue arrow.
As you can see... I'm slacking already!
Look at how curved my back and legs are... LoL
Always looking for the easy way out... always!

So yeah, inspections were fun!
Especially the ones where they found
the filth in the other guy’s locker!

So, yes, it really is true;

other people’s misery truly is our entertainment!

The Name Game

Names have got to be the dumbest
things ever invented!

Nowadays, everyone wants their child to have the most unique name in the universe. People can be such selfish douche bags can't they?

Then, this poor kid has to go through the rest of his or her life, fighting with the masses.

From childhood, right to the grave,
it’s gonna be one long fistfight.

Anute…… could you imagine a parent punishing their kid by naming him this? I’ve looked it up, and no shit, it’s really someone’s friggin' name.

It’s a Norwegian name, and it means knot.

That’s right folks, you heard me correctly. Fuckin’ knot! Like what you get in the laces of your sneakers, when you’re in a hurry.

Or, better yet, what your parents will be rubbing, when you’re finally old enough to swing a baseball bat and you whack them both over the head with it for having the balls
to name you that!

"Hey Anute, c’mon, we’re goin’ to shag some fly balls"……… "Naaah, that’s Okay guys, I can’t make it today. I’m a little tied up at the moment!"

(Sorry ‘bout that. But I just had to! LoL)

Yeah, sometimes names just suck. I guess just tryin’ta fit in and be a normal kid wasn’t hard enough to live through. Parents can be
screwy sometimes huh?

But then there are the nicknames. These range from fucking hilarious, to the downright cruel.

Everyone has a nickname at some point in his or her life, and of course, I was no different. I was somehow given a nickname in boot camp that pretty much followed me throughout my entire 3 year naval career. And somewhat beyond that.

And no, it wasn’t ASSHOLE!

Although on more than a few occasions I was one! But no, my boot camp cohorts began calling me Ozzy. Short for Ozzy Osbourne. He’s the lead singer of the band Black Sabbath.

Ozzy fuckin' rulez!!
This was 1975... too awesome.
His solo career begin in 1980 after he was asked to leave the band.
But has since reunited, recorded a new album and touring all in 2013!

Well, the way this all came about was, that I would listen to a Black Sabbath tape during our down time in the barracks.

Then, just as everyone finished making their bunks, I would hop onto my upper bunk. And then start singing along with the tape
as loud as I could.

How scary is this fucking picture... LoL
We actually had to work together like this to make our beds!
It's too funny seeing these faces again... it really is. Like it was yesterday!
This looks like an end bunk because they were very close together
for easy leaping!!

Okay, so I wouldn’t call it singing either. More like scream, as loud as I could. Then, jump from upper bunk to upper bunk, gesturing the peace sign with both hands, emulating what Ozzy does on stage. What the fuck is wrong with me?? LoL

I’d fuck up every upper bunk in the joint, and because I was from the northeast, New York Tri-State area, no one would fuck with me!

So after a couple weeks of this crap, the name just stuck. Even after boot camp, as I would be stationed with some of these guys, they would still call me Ozzy. And, before long, everyone else just followed suit. Come to think of it, maybe asshole would’ve been better!

That thing I mentioned about being from the northeast was a strange occurrence too.

Most of the guys in boot camp were from some hillbilly town it seemed, and have never even seen a four-story building for goodness sake!

Some were still in shock after seeing indoor plumbing for the first time in their no teeth, ass-scratchin’, cousin-kissin’ lives. It was really funny. And yes I'm over-exaggerating a bit. Because most if not all of the guys there
really were great!

The guys who were from the larger cities could pretty much get away with anything they wanted to though. None of the other guys would ever fuck with them.

And, remember, you’re starting your life from square one here. So, you could become anyone you wanted to be. No one here knew who the fuck you were back home. All you had to do was look and act the part of a tough guy, and that was it, you were king!

These fuckin’ guys didn’t know how the hell to react to me. Some of them treated me as though I was The Fonz, and fuckin’ Rocky Balboa, all rolled up into one!

All they had to hear was the north eastern, Staten Island accent, and that was it. They all thought that they were gonna wake up with a bloodied horses head in their bunk. It was great.

But little did they know, that lurking just below the Fonzie front, was the real me. A big ole’ pussy boy who ran home to mommy... LoL!
Oh be quiet!

Hey, it was all a big game, and I was out to win muthafucka. Hell, some of those guys could hardly walk fully erect. How could I NOT
fuck with some of them!?

The charade didn’t go over with the few other big city guys in my squad though, but they were pulling the same shit I was. We kinda had a mutual understanding not to fuck with each other, and to only pull this shit
with the other guys.

Hey, whoever it was that said the meek shall inherit the earth, was an asshole. And, you can tell’em that I said so!

So the nickname Ozzy was born,
and that would be my stamp
for the next few years.

Ozzy, with a Rocky accent!

Crap, good thing I wasn’t listening to a fucking Barry Manilow tape. Man, now that would’ve sucked! Who knows what nickname
I might have been given then.