From The Anals Of Military Justice

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT FARTING, YOU SORRY BIG-ASSED JACKWAGON???"

For at least one theatre of operations, a biological necessity is allegedly NOT TO BE ALLOWED any more.

From the online publication Digital Journal, comes this gem:

The United States Marine Corps has banned audible farting in Afghanistan because it is culturally offensive to civilians working with the military and members of of the Afghan National Army.

Really?

That's interesting. I am given to believe that, in the Middle East, no one audibly farts in public. No one but infidels.

Alrighty then.

I'm not thinking that USMC legend Louis "Chesty" Puller would understand.

He wouldn't be alone, either.

One commenter to this story noted that "So now we understand that Muslims in Afghanistan are offended by the sound of anal gas explosions but are quite comfortable with beheading, stoning, female genital mutilation, pedophilia, amputations, and hanging or burning homosexuals".

Perhaps so...long as no one audibly farts during the commission of any of those aforementioned actions.

Another commenter noted that "Is this perfectly normal human function offensive only when it escapes from the body of an American? Are the natural born Afghanistan people immune from this digestive dilemma?".

Sadly, I can't answer that question personally; according to this article, it is best that I not venture to Afghanistan to make inquiries. 'Nuff said there.

The article concluded with this snippet: The ban on farting has not been confirmed by the military and no mention of flatulence could be found in the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

Confirmation from the former will, if confirmed, no doubt make for an interesting read. Perhaps the former is awaiting an addendum on the subject to the latter, before issuing a statement?

How might that read, one muses? Well, anyone who thinks they know me can imagine the *TOING* that went off in my thrice-concussed head.

Here's one idea:

Uniform Code Of Military Justice

Subchapter X -- Punitive Articles

Subparagraph (b) As Amended 08/2011 -- Afghanistan Exclusionary Clause

935.135 Discharge Of Anal Discharge As Dishonorable Discharge Of Same

It is unlawful for any member of the US Military, inclusive of civilian contractors directly/indirectly attached thereby, within the confines of the theatre of operations aforementioned, to knowingly or unknowingly discharge an audible flatulent episode for the purposes of biology or other odious purposes, within the discernible auditory range of Afghan military and/or civilian personnel.

It is further unlawful for any aforementioned member to, having inadvertently attempted an SBD* that failed the first third of the acronym, to attempt to blame the episode on local culinary fare, or on a camel or goat.

It is further unlawful for any aforementioned member to, having overlooked the provisions herein, to turn to a nearby associate and exclaim "Osama bin WHO?", in the wake of an audible episode that violates the aforementioned provisions herein stated.

I anticipate that, pending official authentication of the Digital Journal article, all JAG offices throughout the US Military will have had their Uniform Code Of Military Justices properly amended, as noted above.

Personally, but for the influence of the prissy politically correct crowd, I just can't see this as anything other than as a joke. But, if true, little will change for the DI pictured above, and her peers; but factoring in human nature, biology and the chow, one can assume that if this proceeds, the JAGs are gonna be kept REAL busy...

* Silent But Deadly

How Many Carats?

*Blogger's note: sorry for the inconsistent posting of late; learning a new job that's eating my brain. Once that stabilizes -- for the eaten brain never will -- I will be back on a more consistent basis. And no, that doesn't mean for you to contact my new employer and bury them under "keep him BUSY!" emails*

In a world where, amongst the elite, "biggest is bestest", I would love to see how this one will play out.

Sky watchers in Australia believe that they have found an alien planet that is a true "diamond in the rough". Literally. Aussie sky watchers located what they call a millisecond pulsar -- a neutron star that was born of a supernova, the space version of large sections of Detroit ("okay, nothing more to see here, let's blow it ALLLL UP and start over") -- that has been officially named PSRJ1719-1438.

Since astronomers use up all of their brainiac-ity on complex physics and cosmic algebraicgeotrig, they apparently have nothing left over for coming up with creative names for new stuff.

Anyway, as I understand it -- and being a tad behind on my physics-algebraicgeotrig, like to the tune of 100 to the terrabyte power -- certain cosmic forces have combined to blow up a supernova, sucking the life out of a white dwarf neutron star thingee, which has become through trial and cosmic error a very compact, rapidly-rotating millisecond pulsar, that is an exceptionally dense 12 miles across. Almost as dense as Ed "Sgt" Schultz.

And in the process of this deep space cosmic renewal and geometric trigonometric physics sh**, PSRJ1719-1438 is now allegedly being orbited by a 37,300 mile-diametered alien planet...that astronomers believe to be...a diamond.

I'm sure someone out there can calculate the carats of something like that. I can't, not being an algebraicgeotrig physics wonk.

Belatedly -- and to avoid a gemologist stampede to the stars -- scientists are referring to it as an "alien planet". But the assumed fact of the matter/antimatter is -- if the algebraicgeotrig physics geeks are right -- orbiting a millisecond pulsar, is the universe's biggest knowd diamond.

And while I'm sure that Paris Hilton's people have been in contact with Richard Branson's people (Virgin Air/Spaceways), perhaps they might want to consider -- really hard -- not ONLY the logistics of bringing a 37,300 mile diametered diamond back to some celebrity gemologist to make into a polished gem bar none; they'll have to overcome one other slight little logistical hurdle: it's 4,000 light years from Earth.

Last time I checked, connecting flight schedules are few and far between us, h'yah, and that constellation Serpens, th'yah.

Meantime, since brainiac-ity fails to do christening justice to millisecond pulsar PB&J1719'n7/8ths, I think we ought to help them at least name the alien planet diamond. A contest started now, has all the demonstrated human talents and abilities of coming up with a truly fitting name, when Richard Branson's millenia-from-now descendants, manage to return with the largest diamond the world might ever see.

Unless they get there in 4,000 light years, to find it's a cosmic email scam.

Meantime, I vote that we name the diamond planet....Jill St. John.

Just sayin'...

Politics Anyone?

2012 does seem unavoidable, doesn't it?

If November 2012 doesn't get us, the Mayan calendar's end, just might.

Iowa recently held a GOP presidential candidate straw poll, one of the first tottering steps toward Decision 2012. Iowa's a good place to do that: they cultivate straw aplenty.

What we learned from that first, very VERY preliminary straw vote, was that it's hard to read straw ballots, and that guinea pigs like to use straw to nest and poop in.

We also learned that at least one politician decided, on the basis of the straw poll, to pick up his campaign bumper stickers and go back to Minnesota.

Despite my pet rock's current time travel travails, Seymour wished to text me his thoughts on the current political cycle that's started the long pull up a longer hill, before the downhill race to Decision 2012. Being as how Seymour is politically unaffiliated and unbiasedly geologic -- whatever THAT means -- he feels he has some genuine insights into the current field of candidates, and wants to share them, even from his current juxtaposition in Time.

With no further adieu -- a french word that Seymour hates:

Michelle Bachmann: she won the Iowa straw poll. Maybe she'll find a place for it in her home office, though if she has cats, they'll wreck it. She's a nice lady, but in the words knowd world over from countless failed dates, "not this election cycle, she has a headache". Old stick-in-the-mud Republicans aren't ready for a hot chick to run their party.

Seymour, you're going to be accused of sexism with that analogy.

Oh phffffffft. Michelle's a chick, and a hot one at that. Now, on to my further analysis...

Mitt Romney: who wants to elect a guy named for a glove? Republicans didn't pick him in '08; why would they now? PUH-leease!

Newt Gingrich: the Geico gecko is one thing, but a politician named for another lizard that usually winds up in various blackmagic spells isn't gonna get elected. Especially when he verbally self destructs the same weekend he announces his candidacy. *BUZZZZZER*

Tim Pawlenty: *BUZZZZZER* Lost to the hot chick. Smart enough to quit thereafter. 'Nuff said.

Ron Paul: The guy with two first names came in second, but really? He's got a better chance of being elected to Congress from Texas...*TOING*

Howard Cain: successful businessman and one of those minorities that the Left says is a race traitor. I thought the Left was supposed to be all about compassion and tolerance? Oh well...I guess they only are when the minorities know that their place is supposed to be beholden to the Left, and not agin' it. Won't get the nomination, but will annoy the Left by not being a flunky to them.

John Huntsman: who??? That seems to be the universal response outside of Utah.

Sarah Palin: her bus tour was there, but she ain't in. Prolly ain't gonna be: life's more fun and lucrative being a force on the Right, rather than a target of the Left (and of some of the establishment on the Right that don't like hot chicks in politics).

Rick Santorum: he sounds more like a mental health facility ad, than a serious presidential candidate.

Rick Perry: a Texican governor. This guy -- perhaps coupled with the hot chick as his running mate -- might just look to be a force to be reckoned with. The 'glove' will not likely be able to get the nomination now that this particular Texican is in.

Me (as in Seymour): I was gonna run, but Skunk's got me mired in time travel, and it's kinda hard to keep up with what's going on in 2011, when I'm stuck 65 million years in the past.

And what about Seymour's unique view of the incumbent in 2012:

Barack Obama: been voting 'present' since first elected to anything. Guy sure loves to play golf and spend other peoples' money. Funny how he gets a Nobel Peace Prize for having done nothing, and nothing bad during his watch is his fault, according to him and that Ploofe fella who rhymes with 'goof' and that makes things up for the prez. Against the 'glove', the lizard, a couple of "who?"s and the Texican that has a better chance of being elected to Congress..*TOING*...he could probably be a two-term prez, despite himself. Against the other Texican and hot chick...maybe not...*click*.

As I was about to ask Seymour to amplify on that prediction, his cell connection through the Time Portal went phfffft. Seymour's political observations and commentary developing, pending a cell phone recharge, and time warps.

Transitions

Life transitions suck sometimes. In my case, they're certainly wreaking havoc with whatever ability I have to consistently entertain readers here, such as I've deluded myself to believe I've done since '05.

The past two months mark what I hope will be a gradual easing off of 'transitioning', and return to a bit more stability. Since I don't live in Califorlornia, I don't have to worry about geologic instability, on top of the rest.

Anyway, this will be something of an abbreviated 'Randomosity' post, as I seek to throw something against the Blogger wall...since the 'something' passed through my kitchen, it should stick to whatever it touches:

- it might be time to dust: I just sneezed, and room visibility dropped to zero. Better still, it might be time to move...

- I'll have to wait for the dust cloud to settle, before I know in which direction to move...

- I have a sneaking suspicion, but it farted and got caught. Bad suspicion...vewy vewy bad suspicion.

- insanity doesn't run in my family: it walks through rather leisurely, looking for anyone it might have missed.

- We are all God's children. Some are just more disownable than others.

- What is flushed with success? A turd.

- definition of suspended animation: a misbehaving cartoon character on a cancelled show.

- a malfunctioning robot is better off.

- Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan should get married; they'd save 50% just by sharing their substance abuse.

Adda blee adda blee, that's all, folks!

Quantum Horsefeathers -- II

An explanation is upcoming. Really.

A couple posts back, I related to y'all how some Hong Kongian scientists determined that time travel was a physical impossibility.

Right after, that is, that I had finished my 'observe 'n don't interfere' time machine, and used as my first test time travel subject, Seymour the pet rock.

When he disappeared in a *puff* of smoke -- since the Hong Kongians said that what I saw I couldn't a seed -- I figured he'd be pissed, 'cuz now he was as charred as any meal I've ever attempted to prepare.

'Cept that he was no longer in the machine.

Whoa. Bite me, Hong Kongians.

No, my time machine is not like The Time Tunnel, where you can pick up readings and see what the time traveller is experiencing; but Seymour was given a very cheap cell phone, with which he could text about what he was observing and such.

Ask me later how he -- a pet rock -- is able to text on a cheap cell phone.

Anyway, after a couple days, I got the following text that I deduced HAD to be from Seymour:

W...T...F!

I assumed he meant what most folks take for WTF:

I dont know...WTF are you WTFing?

Not WHAT TF...WHEN TF?

How the hell am I sposed to know?

U built the f***ing thing. When am I?

According to u, from the beginning. What do you see to help figger out when you are?

I see big animals. REALLY BIG animals.

What kind of really BIG animals?

The kind in the movie Jurassic Park.

Kewl...Seymour is back more than 65,000,000 years! This could be educational:

So...what's the terrain like where you are?

Hot...damp...swampy. Remind me to tell u how many ways ur an asshole.

How's that, Seymour?

U said i couldnt interact in Time. Well, those animals can interact with ME! I got peed on by a triciploplotz!

Well, I did tell you that this was a test run.

I got ur test run...uh...oh-oh...

Whaddaya mean, oh-oh?

1 of those big 1s with legs and teeth is coming aftr me! GET ME OUTTA HERE!

As I said, this isn't the Time Tunnel. What's more, in order to make this particular test time machine economical for my very austere budget, I had to make use of a common kitchen appliance. My oven.

Forgetting that I had put something in there to do some further testing with, I did a quick time retrieval calculation, hit the 'on' button....and heard some of the most primal banging and growling noises from therein I hadn't heard since my last attempt at actually baking something. I decided that I had missed retrieving Seymour, and caught perhaps...what was chasing him.

So, forgetting what I had first put in there to try sending, I just reversed my retrieval function, and sent back whatever I had retrieved. Along with what I was going to test-send. After a moment, I tried texting Seymour:

Seymour? What's going on?

LMRRAO*...i cant believe what u just did!

What did I just did?

I will send u a pic (Seymour's cheap cell phone did have a very basic digital camera).

Oh, for...

Uh huh...u still suck in the kitchen. But the other animals are not afraid of it anymor.

I think I see why.

Now how about getting me outta here?

Workin on it.

After some tinkering, I managed to transport Seymour out of Jurassic Park. I'm still waiting to hear from him as to where he wound up. Or, should I say, when he wound up, since he didn't return here.

Meantime...that t-rex that was coming after Seymour, somehow got mixed up with the rubber chicken I was going to test send next...the picture above was the rather improbable result.

I'm not sure if I hope paleontologists find that fossil or not...

* laughing my round rock ass off