Rantings of Stu

Edit 10/27/2007: Despite this blog being a personal place for me to rant and rave about life, it seems a few U.S. Marines have accidentally  stumbled across this post, which was really a very personal rant.

It seems clear to me based on a couple of responses I’ve received that some Marines are taking my post as a direct attack on them and they feel the need to attack me personally in response. Well, to start with, I have nothing but respect for those who choose to serve. Serving is a hard thing, and is something they ought to be proud of. This post was never meant as an attack, and it’s unfortunate that anybody had taken it that way.

If they take my post and read it out of context (which can’t be helped, since they don’t know me) I suppose I can see how someone might take offense. Since the purpose of the post was not to offend, I’ve decided to remove the main portion of the rant.

All that is left now is what follows, a few important words that will help anybody from my old boot platoon find me, should they look.

January 16, 1994, I flew out to San Diego, California to start Marine Corps basic training. All was well until I made the mistake of going to see the Chaplain. That started a chain reaction that resulted in my being sent home… just two weeks before my platoon’s graduation. (edit: the question has been asked, “Why didn’t you just re-enlist?” I had originally planned to. But I was in a motorcycle accident shortly after getting home that left me physically disabled.)

Platoon 1106 1st Battalion Bravo Company MCRD San DiegoDrill Instructors:
Senior Drill Instructor Sergeant Lennon
Drill Instructor Sergeant Newton (perhaps the finest Marine I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Lebedeff (called away to become a swimming instructor)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Richardson (called away to MRP)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Jamison (fresh out of DI school when we got him, he was called away to another platoon)
Drill Instructor Sergeant Milton (replaced the DI’s we lost at the end of first phase)

Graduation date: April 8, 1994

Yes, I remember this after all these years. I had such respect for most of my drill instructors (and such hatred for one of them) that I remember their names, faces, mannerisms, voices, and more.

Platoon recruits whose names I remember:

Murray (platoon guide), Brookes (my squad leader), Fox, Pendleton (who had a large wooden frame slammed into his shin by one of the drill instructors), Greene (whom I later became close friends with), and of course Dorman, Plourde, and Zetterquist with whom I flew out of Salt Lake.

I remember the faces of so many others, but have just forgotten their names.

CARRY ON!

Now I’ve had Mallard ducks, quails, pheasants, woodpeckers, and even a *&#@! rooster (piece-of-crap rooster woke me up at 5am every freakin’ morning!) wander onto my lawn in the three years I’ve lived in this house. But this is the first time I’ve gotten these kinds of visitors.

These three intruders showed up on my neighbor’s lawn first. I discovered them when my wife opened the door and screamed at me, “Get the camera, quick!” So I hurried as quickly as I could, bringing the camera to her. That’s when I saw two deer on my neighbor’s lawn.

My wife turns on the camera… batteries are dead. So I grab the camera and replace the batteries, expecting the deer to be long gone by the time I get back. As I’m replacing the batteries, my wife is intensely whispering, “Hurry! … Oh, don’t go in the street! … Ack! Watch out!” and things of that nature.

By the time I get the camera ready and poke my head out the door, there they are, standing right in the middle of my lawn. Remembering the video of the guy who got the crap beat out of him by a deer (he later said that he thought the deer was trying to mate with him), I stick the camera out the door — keeping body safely inside — and quickly snapped this picture:

Then off they ran into my other neighbor’s yard. After waiting a time and feeling it was safe to wander on out there, this photo was snapped:

I know, you were hoping it was a picture of a deer trying to hump me. Sorry to disappoint you with measely deer tracks.

Tag is a game I usually play with my kids. But this blog tag thing… hmmm. Okay, I’ll give it a shot.

I was tagged by Bart Gibby. He was my home teacher in a previous ward (it’s an LDS thing) and we’ve kept in touch via email after I moved out.

I guess the idea is for me to reveal five lesser known things about me, then tag five others with the same task.

I just hope the bloggers I hit don’t hate me as much as I hate those dang email chain letters I’m always getting from well-intentioned friends and family. Well, here goes.

Five things you probably don’t know about me:

1. I’m a comic book freak. I started collecting when I was 12, and stopped when I was around 17… a matter of money rather than desire. Then comics got crazy with all the gold foil special edition crap they started pushing, going the way of sports cards. I lost interest after that.
2. I estimate that I’ve seen the Transformers movie (animated) well over 100 times. I bought the VHS when I was 20, and now my kids have seen it nearly as much as I have.
3. I’ve killed well over 100 rabbits. Though I was desensitized to killing through USMC training, I quit hunting rabbits because I started to feel bad about all the killing. Rabbits are innocent. Humans are not.
4. I dated a girl that tried to get into my pants once. I wouldn’t let her though, so the relationship didn’t last. Guys the world over have since asked me, “What were you thinking?!”
5. My great great great grandfather (or thereabouts) was told by his future father-in-law that he would not be allowed to marry his daughter unless he took on the family name (the daughter was the last in the family, and her father wanted the name to continue). My ancestor agreed. Ain’t love grand? Except now, instead of a nice traditional American name, I’m stuck with a name that nobody else is able to pronounce correctly. Way to go grand dad!

Sorry it’s not all that exciting. And for the rest of you who, for some weird reason, thought I was a Navy SEAL with 22 confirmed kills (2 with a shovel)… it’s not true. Well, not the Navy SEAL part anyway
I’ve tagged Buck Roberts, Bryce Ott, My Wife, Clark Winegar (who should just quit his job so he’ll have time to write those sweet blog posts of his!), and Mikal Belicove.

You guys are now “it”. I’ll take no offense if you kill me for hatred of receiving the blog equivalent of a chain letter.