Waddle-Banal Diary.

Pinned down. Third day. No sign of relief. Then the Ctrl+C combo takes a direct hit.

Man Down!
Man Down!

Another in the ongoing adventures of the Fighting 101st Chairborne Division (Or do you prefer “Band of Buzzards?”) as they slug their way out of Mommy’s basement…and into our hearts.

Seriously, I only supplied the title and “marquer” penned this little gem that was just too funny to leave in Comments:

I smell a novel…or at least another page added to his DHS file.

It does come to me, though, that once this is all over, the Fighting Keyboarders are going to require an amanuensis of their own. Where will they find a Tregaskis willing to heroically limn their seated sufferings for freedom?

“It was 0300, and darker than the underside of Bill Clinton's soul. There I was, hunkered down in the comments section. My brothers in arms had all logged off. Cheese-eating surrender monkeys all around our position.

I could hear their chittering when the wind shifted from behind the Preview button. My canteen clanked against my hip, but I knew there was only a faint smell of Pepsi remaining. I checked my magazine. Only three adjectives left. Not a lot to work with.

There might be a noun on the Sergeant's avatar, a powerful one, but to get there I would have to crawl through a withering crossfire of snark...”

Now that's some good eatin'.