Zoot_Suit's Blog

It's Christmas again, time to celebrate the transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge. You know the ritual: boo the curmudgeon initially encountered in Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol, then cheer the sweetie pie he becomes in the end. It's too bad no one notices that the curmudgeon had a point—quite a few points, in fact. 

To appreciate them, it is necessary first to distinguish Scrooge's outlook on life from his disagreeable persona. He is said to have a pointed nose and a harsh voice, but not all hardheaded businessmen are so lamentably endowed, nor are their feckless nephews (remember Fred?) alwavs "ruddy and handsome," and possessed of pretty wives. These touches of the storyteller's art only bias the issue. 

So let's look without preconceptions at Scrooge's allegedly underpaid clerk, Bob Cratchit. The fact is, if Cratchit's skills were worth more to anyone than the fifteen shillings Scrooge pays him weekly, there would be someone glad to offer it to him. Since no one has, and since Cratchit's profit-maximizing boss is hardly a man to pay for nothing, Cratchit must be worth exactly his present wages. 

No doubt Cratchit needs—i.e., wants—more, to support his family and care for Tiny Tim. But Scrooge did not force Cratchit to father children he is having difficulty supporting. If Cratchit had children while suspecting he would be unable to afford them, he, not Scrooge, is responsible for their plight. And if Cratchit didn't know how expensive they would be, why must Scrooge assume the burden of Cratchit's misjudgment? 

As for that one lump of coal Scrooge allows him, it bears emphasis that Cratchit has not been chained to his chilly desk. If he stays there, he shows by his behavior that he prefers his present wages-plus-comfort package to any other he has found, or supposes himself likely to find. Actions speak louder than grumbling, and the reader can hardly complain about what Cratchit evidently finds satisfactory. 

More notorious even than his miserly ways are Scrooge's cynical words. "Are there no prisons," he jibes when solicited for charity, "and the Union workhouses?" 

Terrible, right? Lacking in compassion? 

Not necessarily. As Scrooge observes, he supports those institutions with his taxes. Already forced to help those who can't or won't help themselves, it is not unreasonable for him to balk at volunteering additional funds for their extra comfort. 

Scrooge is skeptical that many would prefer death to the workhouse, and he is unmoved by talk of the workhouse's cheerlessness. He is right to be unmoved, for society's provisions for the poor must be, well, Dickensian. The more pleasant the alternatives to gainful employment, the greater will be the number of people who seek these alternatives, and the fewer there will be who engage in productive labor. If society expects anyone to work, work had better be a lot more attractive than idleness. 

The normally taciturn Scrooge lets himself go a bit when Cratchit hints that he would like a paid Christmas holiday. "It's not fair," Scrooge objects, a charge not met by Cratchet's patently irrelevant protest that Christmas comes but once a year. Unfair it is, for Cratchit would doubtless object to a request for a day's uncompensated labor, "and yet," as Scrooge shrewdly points out, "you don't think me ill used when I pay a day's wages for no work." 

Cratchit has apparently forgotten the golden rule. (Or is it that Scrooge has so much more than Cratchit that the golden rule does not come into play? But Scrooge doesn't think he has that much, and shouldn't he have a say in the matter?) 

Scrooge's first employer, good old Fezziwig, was a lot freer with a guinea—he throws his employees a Christmas party. What the Ghost of Christmas Past does not explain is how Fezziwig afforded it. Did he attempt to pass the added costs to his customers? Or did young Scrooge pay for it anyway by working for marginally lower wages? 

The biggest of the Big Lies about Scrooge is the pointlessness of his pursuit of money. "Wealth is of no use to him. He doesn't do any good with it," opines ruddy nephew Fred. 

Wrong on both counts. Scrooge apparently lends money, and to discover the good he does one need only inquire of the borrowers. Here is a homeowner with a new roof, and there a merchant able to finance a shipment of tea, bringing profit to himself and happiness to tea drinkers, all thanks to Scrooge. 

Dickens doesn't mention Scrooge's satisfied customers, but there must have been plenty of them for Scrooge to have gotten so rich. 

Scrooge is said to hound debtors so relentlessly that—as the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Be is able to show him—an indebted couple rejoices at his demise. The mere delay while their debt is transferred will avert the ruin Scrooge would have imposed. 

This canard is triply absurd. First, a businessman as keen as Scrooge would prefer to delay payment to protect his investment rather than take possession of possibly useless collateral. (No bank wants developers to fail and leave it the proud possessor of a half-built shopping mall.) Second, the fretful couple knew and agreed to the terms on which Scrooge insisted. By reneging on the deal, they are effectively engaged in theft. Third, most important, and completely overlooked by Ghost and by Dickens, there are hopefuls whose own plans turn on borrowing the money returned to Scrooge from his old accounts. Scrooge can't relend what Caroline and her unnamed husband don't pay up, and he won't make a penny unless he puts the money to use after he gets it back. 

The hard case, of course, is a payment due from Bob Cratchit, who needs the money for an emergency operation on Tiny Tim. (Here I depart from the text, but Dickens characters are so familiar to us they can be pressed into unfamiliar roles.) If you think it is heartless of Scrooge to demand payment, think of Sickly Sid, who needs an operation even more urgently than Tim does, and whose father is waiting to finance that operation by borrowing the money Cratchit is expected to pay up. 

Is Tim's life more valuable than Sid's just because we've met him? And how do we explain to Sid's father that his son won't be able to have the operation after all, because Scrooge, as Christmas generosity, is allowing Cratchit to reschedule his debt? Scrooge does not circulate money from altruism, to be sure, but his motives, whatever they are, are congruent with the public good. 

But what about those motives? Scrooge doesn't seem to get much satisfaction from the services he may inadvertently perform, and that seems to be part of Dickens's point. But who, apart from Dickens, says that Scrooge is not enjoying himself? He spends all his time at his business, likes to count his money, and has no outside interests. 

At the same time, Scrooge is not given to brooding and shows absolutely no sign of depression or conflict. Whether he wished to or not, Dickens has made Scrooge by far the most intelligent character in his fable, and Dickens credits his creation with having nothing "fancy" about him. So we conclude that, in his undemonstrative way, Scrooge is productive and satisfied with his lot, which is to say happy. 

There can be no arguing with Dickens's wish to show the spiritual advantages of love. But there was no need to make the object of his lesson an entrepreneur whose ideas and practices benefit his employees, society at large, and himself. Must such a man expect no fairer a fate than to die scorned and alone? Bah, I say. Humbug. 

* * * * * 

Author: Michael Levin is professor of philosophy at the City University of New York.

Just curious, which appears more believable?

Nobama's? (with the incorrect birth name I might add)

Or "Mine"?

I am not sure of David Spade's political affiliation, but after hearing that the Phoenix PD needed new/more weapons to combat the drug dealers and scum of the area, he stepped forward and donated the cash needed, he is a true PATRIOT.

More proof that we do not need higher taxes on the average citizen, those who have it, can and do, provide for the nation to ease the burden on the average taxpayer.

Now we just need to get the rest of the LibTARD's and DemoRATS in Hollywood to follow his example; get off their high horses, quit imposing their idiotic ideals on us and take action.

David Spade can now check this off his Christmas list: 300 rifles.

The funnyman. 44, stopped by a police station in his former hometown of Phoenix on Monday morning to present a check for $100,000 toward the purchase of rifles for patrol officers, the police department says in a statement.

The donation helps fund a program being coordinated by Phoenix Police Chief and Public Safety Manager Jack Harris and Phoenix Law Enforcement Association President Officer Mark Spencer.

"Asking there be no fanfare or media attention, Mr. Spade called last week and said he wanted to donate $100,000 to the Phoenix Police Department towards the purchase of rifles to help keep our patrol officers and community safe," the statement says.

"This mutual agreement can now move ahead with momentum thanks to the generosity of Mr. Spade."

(excerpt from "The Raggedy A55 Marines")
Author: Captain William T. Moore, Jr., USMC (Ret)

The Death Of Santa Claus

Well, there's strange things done
'neath the Vietnamese sun
But the time that locked my jaws
Was the night 'neath the moon when the third platoon
Gunned down Santa Claus.

Well it started off right, just an ordinary night,
We had to spend in the dirt.
Security was out, three sixty about,
With fifty-percent alert.

We had eighty-ones and naval guns,
The tanks were track to track.
An Ontos or so and an arty FO
With barrages back to back.

I froze where I stood, cause out of the wood,
Eight horses came running along.
This may sound corny, but them mustangs were horny,
"My God!" I thought, "Mounted Viet Cong!"

He was coming our way in what looked like a sleigh,
But then you never know what they'll use.
The flares were tripped, the SID's had flipped,
And the TIPSY blew a fuse.

We let him close, then we yelled, "Who goes?"
Like they do in the movie show.
And the answer we got, believe it or not,
Was a hearty "H0, H0, H0."

Now those troops of mine, they'd seen some time,
And we'd done some things back-asswards,
They may be thick, but i'll tell you a trick,
They knew that wasn't the password.

The eighty-ones soared and the nineties roared,
The naval guns raised some hell.
A bright red flare flew through the air
We fired our FPL.

I'll give him guts, but that guy was nuts,
Or I'm a no-good liar.
He dropped like a stone in our killing zone,
And I passed the word, "Cease Fire."

I went out and took a real good look.
My memory started to race.
My mind plays games when it comes to names,
But I never forget a face.

He was dressed all in red and looked well fed.
He was older than most I'd seen.
He looked right weird with that long white beard,
And stumps where his legs had been.

He hadn't quite died when I reached his side,
But the end was clearly in sight.
I knelt down low, and he said real slow,
"Merry Christmas, and to all a good night."

We should have known our "cool" was blown,
When the light in the east we seen.
But it looked like flares and it had to be theirs,
Or the damned things would have been green.

So I picked up the hook with a voice that shook,
And said, "Gimmie the six and quick."
"Colonel," I said, "Hang on to your head,
We just greased old Saint Nick."

Now the Ole Man's cool, he's nobody's fool,
Right off he knew the word.
If this got out, there'd be no doubt,
He wouldn't be making his "bird."

"Just get him up here and we'll play it by ear,
Make sure of the Med Evac tag.
Dismantle that sleigh, drive them reindeer away,
And bury that goddamn bag."

Now by and by the kids may cry,
Cause there's nothing under the tree.
But the word just came back from FMF Pac,
That Santa had gone VC.

Well there's strange things done
'neath the Vietnamese sun,
But the night that locked my jaws,
was that night 'neath the moon when the third platoon,
Gunned down Santa Claus.

I feel better now... 

Originally posted in the weather blogs, but on a day like this, it certainly is news worthy.

I know that some may have seen this before but it holds so much truth that it is hilariously funny. I hope you enjoy it and share some of your experiences.

Diary of a Snow Shoveler...

December 8 - 6:00 PM. It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses Print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!

December 9 - We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more lovely place in the Whole World? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled for the first time in years and felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.

December 12 - The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment. My neighbor tells me not to worry, we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. l don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor.

December 14 - Snow lovely snow! 8" last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish l wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15 - 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.

December 16 - Ice storm this morning. Fell on my butt on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like he**. The wife laughed for an hour, Which I think was very cruel.

December 17 - Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20 - Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of the dam* stuff last night. More shoveling. Took all day. The dam* snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.

December 22 - Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the dam* white stuff fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to run to the bathroom. By the time I got undressed, and dressed again. I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob who has a plow on his truck for the rest of the winter; but he says he's too busy. I think the bum is lying.

December 23 - Only 2" of snow today. And it warmed up to 0. The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did but I think she's lying.

December 24 - 6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the sob who drives that snow plow I'll drag him through the snow and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish
shoveling and then he comes down the street at a 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was too busy watching for the dam* snowplow.

December 25 - Merry dam* Christmas! 20 more inches of the dam* slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil, dam* I hate the snow!
Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she’s a freaking idiot. If I have to watch "It's A Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave.

December 26 - Still snowed in. Why the he** did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27 - Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze, plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him, he only charged me $1,400 to replace the pipes.

December 28 - Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. She's driving me crazy!!!

December 29 - 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am?

December 30 - Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver, he is now suing me for a million dollars, not

only for the beating I gave him but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel where it doesn't belong. The wife went home to her mother. 9" predicted.

December 31 - I set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.

January 8 - Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed?

Hill-Billy ?

This is a rather disturbing thought/image:

I wonder how many DemoRATS bashed Bush over the last few years, then BEGGED for a HANDOUT from him.

I wonder how many of them will fault him for doing what they wanted; you know, they hate him so much, that no matter what he says or does, he is in the wrong, you know blind "hypocrites". 

Hopefully, now that they got what they wanted, they will lay off of him, of course, when the HANDOUT fails, they will blame Bush just because they like to blame him for their poor judgement.

I have been a stout Bush supporter since he first campaigned, but I will have to disagree with this one, by the time it comes for re-payment of the "loan" (i.e. HANDOUT), Bush will be out of office and Nobama will "forgive" the "loan" and probably give them another HANDOUT.

In addition, keep in mind; cash from our pockets is funding this.

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it.

A man answered, saying 'Hello.'

I politely said, 'This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?'Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear 'Get the right EDIT i n g number!' and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude .

When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits. After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled 'You're an EDIT hole!' and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word 'EDIT' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, 'You're an EDIT hole!' It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic 'EDIT hole' calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, 'Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?'He yelled 'NO!' and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, 'That's because you're an EDIT hole!' and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking Spot.
Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a 'For Sale ' sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number. A couple of days later, right after calling the first EDIT hole (I had is number on speed dial,) I thought that I'd better call the BMW EDIT hole, too.

I said, 'Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?' He said, 'Yes, it is.'I asked, 'Can you tell me where I can see it?' He said, 'Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax . It's a yellow ranch, and the car's parked right out in front.'

I asked, 'What's your name?' He said, 'My name is Don Hansen,'

I asked, 'When's a good time to catch you, Don?' He said, 'I'm home every evening after five.'

I said, 'Listen, Don, can I tell you something?'

He said, 'Yes?'

I said, 'Don, you're an EDIT hole!'

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two EDIT to call.

Then I came up with an idea. I called EDIT hole #1. He said, 'Hello.' I said, 'You're an EDIT hole!' (But I didn't hang up.) He asked, 'Are you still there?'

I said, 'Yeah,'

He screamed, 'Stop calling me,'

I said, 'Make me,'

He asked, 'Who are you?'

I said, 'My name is Don Hansen.'

He said, 'Yeah? Where do you live?'

I said, 'EDIT hole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax , a yellow ranch, I have a black Beamer parked in front.'

He said, 'I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.'

I said, 'Yeah, like I'm really scared, EDIT hole,' and hung up.

Then I called EDIT hole #2. He said, 'Hello?' I said, 'Hello, EDIT hole,'

He yelled, 'If I ever find out who you are...'

I said, 'You'll what?'

He exclaimed, 'I'll kick your EDIT,'

I answered, 'Well, EDIT hole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now.'

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oaktree Blvd , in Fairfax , and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd. in Fairfax .

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax . I got there just in time to watch two a55holes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better. Anger management really does work.

Attack America or Americans again and this is the LAST sole that you will see: (as it comes down on your weak neck)

LongSnot!

Why are you not approving comments that disagree with you?

Is it because you are a Nobama COMMUNIST?!?!

Or is it because you would be embarrassed for posting such lying, horse dung liberal, bumper sticker mentality rhetoric garbage?

Communist China is east of here, get stepping!

(below: two post that she has censored because they opposed her view)

Does your hypocrisy know no bounds.

RETURN TO CONUS

(Excerpt from the book "The Raggedy A55 Marines")

Author: Captain William T. Moore, Jr., USMC (Ret)

(Category, HUMOR)

(For you non-military types, CONUS = Continental United States)

Headquarters

U.S. Marine Corps

Washington, DC

20 September 1944

From: Commandant of the Marine Corps

To: All Units

Subj: Indoctrination for return to CONUS

1. In compliance with current policies for rotation of armed forces overseas, it is directed that in order to maintain the high standard and character of the American Marine and to prevent any dishonor to reflect on the uniform, all individuals eligible for return to the U.S. under current directives will undergo an indoctrination course of demilitarization prior to approval of his application for return.

2. The following points will be emphasized during the subject course:

a. In America there are a remarkable number of beautiful girls. These young ladies have not been liberated and many are gainfully employed as stenographers, salesgirls, and beauty operators or welders. Contrary to current practices, they should not be approached with, “How much?” A proper greeting is, “Isn’t it a lovely day?” or “Have you ever been to Chicago?” Then say, “How much?”

b. A guest in a private home is usually awakened in the morning by a light tapping on his door and an invitation to join the host at breakfast. It is proper to say, “I’ll be there shortly.” DO NOT SAY, “Blow it out your a55!”

c. A typical American breakfast consists of such strange foods as cantaloupe, fresh eggs, and, though strange in appearance, are extremely tasty. Butter, made from cream, is often served. If you wish some butter, turn to the person nearest it and say quietly, “Please pass the butter.” You do not say, “Throw me the goddamn grease.”

d. Natural urges are apt to occur when in a crowd. If it is found necessary to defecate, one does NOT grab a shovel in one hand and paper in the other and run for the garden. At least 90 percent of American Homes have one room set aside for these functions: BATHROOM, i.e., a room that in most cases contains a bathtub, washbasin, medicine cabinet and a toilet. It is the latter which you will use in this case. Instructors should make sure that all personnel understand the operation of this device, particularly the lever or button that serves to prepare the service for re-use.

e. In the event that the helmet is retained by the individual, he will refrain from using it as a chair, washbowl, footbath, or bathtub. All these services are furnished in the average American home. It is not considered good practice to squat in a corner in the event all chairs are occupied. The host usually provides suitable seats.

f. Belching or passing wind in company is strictly frowned upon. If you should forget and belch in the presence of others, a proper remark is, “Excuse me.” DO NOT SAY, “Must be the lousy chow we’ve been getting.”

g American dinners, in most cases, consist of several items, each served in a separate dish. The common practice of mixing various items, such as corn-beef and pudding, lima beans and peaches, or chicken gravy and jello to make it more palatable, will be refrained from. In time the “separate dish” system will become enjoyable.

h. The returning Marine is apt to find his opinion differs from those of his civilian associates. One should call upon his reserve of etiquette and correct his acquaintances with such remarks as, “I believe you have made a mistake,” or, “I am afraid you are in error on that.” It is considered very impolite to say, “Buddy, you’re really f#@ked up.”

i. Upon leaving a friend’s home after a visit, one may find that he is without his hat. Frequently these are placed in a closet. In this case a statement such as, “I don’t seem to have my hat. Could you please help me find it?” is far better than, “Nobody leaves this room! Some sonofab!tch stole my cover.”

j. In traveling in the U.S., particularly in a strange city, it is often necessary to spend the night. Hotels are provided for this purpose and almost anyone can give directions to the nearest hotel. Here, for a small sum, one can register and be shown to a room where he can sleep for the night. The present practice of entering the nearest house, throwing the occupants into the yard, and taking over the premises will cease.

k. Whiskey, a common American drink, may be offered to the Marine on social occasions. It is considered a reflection on the uniform to snatch the bottle from the host or hostess and drain the bottle, cork and all. All individuals are cautioned to exercise control in these circumstances.

l. In motion picture theaters, seats are provided. Helmets are not required. It is not considered good form to whistle and stamp your feet every time a female over 8 and under 80 crosses the screen. If your vision is impaired by the person in the seat front of you, there may be other seats which can be occupied. DO NOT hit the person across the back of the head and say, “Move it jerk! I can’t see a damn thing.”

m. It is not proper to go around hitting everyone of draft age in civilian clothes. He might have been released from service for medical reasons. Ask for his credentials. If he cannot produce them, THEN slug him.

n. Upon retiring, one will often find a pair of pajamas laid out on the bed. Pajamas are a two-piece garment which is donned (after all clothing has been removed). The Marine confronted by these garments should assume an air of familiarity and act as though he is used to them. A casual remark such as, “My, what a delicate shade of blue,” will usually suffice. Under no circumstances say, “How in the hell do you expect me to sleep in a get-up like that?”

o. Beer is sometimes served in bottles. A cap remover is usually available and it is not good form to open the bottle using one’s teeth.

p. Always tip you hat before striking a lady.

q. Air raids and enemy patrols are not encountered in America. Therefore it is not necessary to wear the helmet in church or at social functions. Nor will it be necessary to carry a weapon locked and loaded in the ready position when greeting civilians on the street.

r. Most American homes and all hotels are equipped with bathing facilities. When it is desired to take a bath do not attempt to find the nearest stream or pool then strip down and indulge. This is most important in heavily populated areas.

s. All individuals returning to the U.S. will make every effort to conform to the customs and habits of the regions visited and to strive to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Any actions which reflect upon the honor of the uniform will be promptly dealt with.

FOR THE COMMANDANT

A.J. BLANK

Col., USMC

Adjutant

DISTRIBUTION “X”

That order would have been appropriate for veterans returning from any war.

If you do not understand why veterans are the way they are, do not question them, just say Thank you and go on about you way.

Click for larger view

What other "tweeks" can you add?