Contest winners

While everyone else has been ignoring the problem we've been trying to come up with a good solution to the latest crisis Mike Yon was the only one who had the courage to reveal: that it takes too long to medevac troops from the battlefield. Mike wants everyone to sign this petition at the White House web site demanding that President Obama take the red crosses of the medevac helicopters and put machine guns on them, which is a great idea because F@$% the Geneva Convention.

Even though that was the best idea ever, and came from someone with more combat time than anyone anywhere ever in history, as a show of support I thought we should have a contest to determine the second best idea about how we should fix this very serious problem. The response by readers of this site was remarkable, and it took a while to examine all the entries. But I did it, and am happy and proud to present the winners.

Here is the runner-up, AKA the third best idea for how to fix this very serious problem.

Here is the grand prize winner, the second best idea for fixing this very serious problem

For all you folks who submitted entries but weren't selected, your ideas were very good too. Mostly. (I suspect some of you weren't really serious about this. But you're probably "milblog" readers.) But good work to everyone who contributed.

Both of the above entries will be sent to the White House and to every member of the House and the Senate, along with a demand that Mike Yon be re-embedded right now, and that the soldiers who formed that cult and are trying to kill him be investigated.

The grand prize winner will also get a copy of Mike's book "Danger Close."

(Also, sorry, Tommy, but when you entered your picture in the contest you transferred copyright to me. Next time read the rules a little more closely. Note: you had to check the "I agree" block to submit your entry, so you can't deny this.)

Afghanistan's whiniest fatbitch

I love it when stuff comes in my email, like these pictures did. I don't know who this is, but some troops in Afghanistan sent these out. They say this dirtbag is a reporter, and they already were getting sick and tired of having to drag his fat ass around with them and then the other day when they were doing a memorial service for one of their fallen comrades this guy was waddling around all over the place taking pictures and annoying the hell out of them even more.






Anyhow, I don't know who this guy is and they didn't say, but if you ever see him around you'll know what you're up against. (Okay, actually I'm hoping my friend Mike Yon reads this, and finds this guy over there, and teaches him a thing or two about proper respect for the troops.)

My Scrumpdillyicious War

Greetings from Afghanistan
now a scrumpdillyicious war
Where our troops are doing all they can
in a scrumpdillyicious war
Yes, our men and women are brave and more
in this scrumpdillyicious war
but the folks back home seem to ignore
this scrumpdillyicious war

We went on patrol the other day
in this scrumpdillyicious war
To chase the Taliban away
in this scrumpdillyicious war
Our gear the best that money could buy
in this scrumpdillyicious war
No fear had we, that we might die
in this scrumpdillyicious war

We wandered in to a family's compound
in this scrumpdillyicious war
And barricaded ourselves down
in this scrumpdillyicious war
The Taliban came out to fight
in this scrumpdillyicious war
And fired on us all day and night
in this scrumpdillyicious war

Not being fools we called in air
in this scrumpdillyicious war
The jet flew by and launched a flare
in this scrumpdillyicious war
and the noise he made (we're sure) did scare
in this scrumpdillyicious war
The Taliban (who don't fight fair)
in this scrumpdillyicious war

But they kept on lobbing in their rounds
in this scrumpdillyicious war
That eventually burned the compound down
in this scrumpdillyicious war
But we fooled them - we had left that ground!
in this scrumpdillyicious war
For another compound in that town
in this scrumpdillyicious war

(Then back we went to our own camp
in this scrumpdillyicious war
To mend our ripped and shredded pants
in this scrumpdillyicious war)

Another day and out we went
in this scrumpdillyicious war
enthusiasm still unspent
in this scrumpdillyicious war
An empty town was an eerie find
in this scrumpdillyicious war
Of course, the whole damn thing was mined
in this scrumpdillyicious war

A soldier there was blown apart
in this scrumpdillyicious war
But none of the others ever lost heart
in this scrumpdillyicious war
We've plenty of troops - "we're" standing tough
in this scrumpdillyicious war
Though medevac? - We can't get enough
in this scrumpdillyicious war

So here I am, and here I'll stay
in this scrumpdillyicious war
And as long as they'll let me, I will say
"it's a scrumpdillyicious war"
And "we're making progress, yes we are"
in this scrumpdillyicious war
(Just don't forget to hit my tip jar)
in this scrumpdillyicious war

Nanners

Well my latest Terror in my life I walked out of my house Sunday morning 2/27/11 on my way to a meeting that helps victims like me. I’m greeted by two cop cars (one unmarked the other in car 510 officer BinHuffin) and two ambulances sitting right out my front door as I’m leaving. I was told by a former FBI person if I try and report this abuse to people I will get in further trouble. These psychopaths have planted a Directed Energy Weapon in my home, which has been torturing me for the past year and a half, they planted it in a small GE refrigerator when I first moved in here the land lady put this new apt refrigerator in my place. The thing shocked and burned my ass for over a year and a half until I finally figured out what was going on. Now I’m trying to take it to authorities and the harassment and threats have intensifies ten fold. I’m gang stalked everywhere and anywhere. I have been implanted with some sort of bio medical telemetry implant that sends signals that are used to track me like an animal, I’m sure the VA had something to do with it, probably Dick Cheney’s personal pet NWO CIA project, he actually would hunt human beings on his ranch in Wyoming, see video below. I had so many surgeries by these creeps after almost dying at their frickin hospital, my face is still infected, and I have some guy here at Columbia University (CIA) in NYC who wants to do radiation treatment on me, meanwhile I’m being radiated by this frickin weapon they put in my apt. When I go anywhere on foot especially in the city you can see people tracking you everywhere with their hand help device, the minute they see you they push a button to enter your GPS coordinates. IT’S SICK.

I can’t go to the cops they are part of this sick CIA mind control behavior modification program they are experimenting on people with. I got involved in this narcissistic church in Orlando, FL Faithworld where we got a black President and my life has been terrorized ever since, they have DESTROYED my life. These people are the sickest SOBs you can imagine, I can’t even go to the grocery store without being mobbed by gang stalkers and cops. They constantly are trying to set me up with constant neighbor harassment, provocateurs, gang stalking. Of course 7/24 satellites and God knows what other kind of surveillance. Get straiphed by commercial air traffic the minute I step out my door or go for a walk, the military now controls all the airspace in North America now since 9/11. They intercept all my emails, phone calls, and now my US mail to keep me isolated and with NO help. Now its ambulances and cops, my latest threats are a state mental institution. Guess that’s what the ambulances and cops were for Sunday. They get to my doctors, attorneys, anyone who can help me. I tried working a part time job they destroyed that. I’m sure they will evoke more wars and terror on this country between now and May to get their CRIMINAL Patriots Act made permanent to insure they can terrorize innocent Americans speaking truth to CRIMINALS forever. This is my life now. I don’t know how this is going to turn out I have no choice but to resit these criminals and try and get my life back if I ever can.

The NecronomiYawn

Recently installed Military Dictator for Life, Michael Yawn has decided to follow in the footsteps of one of his lifelong Idols, Colonel Muammar Quaddafi. He is already working to align the tiny city-state he has conquered in Tarok Kolache, Afghanistan with far stronger regional allies like Iran. To this end, he sees himself as the next self-professed king of kings, imam of imams, and tyrant of tyrants. He mentioned in a recent interview that "since [milbloggers] have universally declared me douchebag of douchebags, I figured I'd better start racking up the titles for my Wikipedia page. Oh by the way, I've NEVER EVEN read Wikipedia. I don't read "news" on the "internets."

Yawn believes that Col. Muammar el-Qaddafi of Libya is a great dictator, but he’s also a stupid insecure one. In solidarity with those bravely fighting for him, he has decided to write his own version of Quadaffy's little green book, which is, he believes, a simple copy of Mao's little red book, which was simply put into google translate and churned from Chinese to Engrish to Libyan. Mike finds the whole process tedious, and decided to put pen to paper without those pesky "editors" to limit him. He is requiring every adult male in his country to carry and read at least twelve passages per day. Upon registering to vote, a man must claim which verse is his favorite, recite it from memory, and then have it tattooed on his chest, next to the picture of Yawn as "His Most Righteous and Sheikh Excellent Professor Doctor."

A few sample quotes from the aptly-named NecronomiYawn:

“Women are females and men are males. According to gynecologists, women
menstruate every month or so, while men, being male, do not menstruate or suffer
during the monthly period. A woman, being a female, is naturally subject to
monthly bleeding. When a woman does not menstruate, she is pregnant. If she is
pregnant, she becomes, due to pregnancy, less active for about a year.”

“When it comes down to safety and welfare of your child, I don’t think any parent
would sacrifice anything to make sure nothing happens to their children.”

“I feel like God himself created mankind and he loves everyone, and he has the best
for everyone. If he says that having sex with someone of your same gender is
going to bring death upon you, that’s a pretty stern warning, and he knows more
than we do about life.”

“That lowdown scoundrel deserves to be kicked to death by a jackass--and I’m just the one to do it.” (In reference to Blackfive’s Uncle Jimbo)

“We need to know whether today was a coincidental series of unavoidable setbacks, or a systemic flaw.”

“Jihad is the knife slicing the salami of freedom.”

“The only way to get our economy going again and solve our budget problems is to get the economy moving.”

“How can you get a volcano in Iceland? When you think of volcanoes you think of Hawaii, or long words like that. You don’t think of Iceland. It’s too cold to have a volcano there.”

“It took all my semiotic Lacanian deconstructivist saturation and torqued it.”

“I feel like a pilgrim from the f*cking ’20s washing this sh*t in the sink.”

“Osama Bin Laden would never understand the joys of Hanukkah.”

“If it has got four legs and it is not a chair, if it has got two wings and it flies
but is not an airplane, and if it swims and is not a submarine, the Cantonese
will eat it.”

While no one is quite sure what any of these quotes mean, Aman Bin Fartin, the local Taliban chieftain and owner of "Falafel on a stick," has declared that Yawn’s ideas are “pure genius” and that “if any infidel denies these revelations, then a pox on their house and may the fleas of a thousand camels take up residence in their merkin.”

Afghan Tigers

I was taken to a secret mountain hideout (seen here) by my Afghan-Thai Guide, Hopsing Hamchuck, to attend what I thought was to be a meeting of tribal elders in this impoverished region. And by impoverished, I mean really poor--they not only can't afford copies of Danger Close (available new, in paperback, on Amazon for $39.50, or Hardcover, for $10 less, used for $2)--these people are educationally impoverished too; They have never even heard of Mike Yawn.

Anyway, we trekked into the rugged terrain for what seemed like hours, but was really only twenty minutes. It seemed longer because I had on 100 pounds of body armor and d-rings, 65 pounds of camera gear, thirty signed hardback copies of "Danger Close" for gifts and Ipods with all of my TV and Radio interviews on them for gifts to the tribal elders. I am suitably impressed by the safety in this region, last time I was here there wasn't anywhere I could go and not feel spiders crawling on my neck. Now, it seems like the only occasionally crawl on my neck. Must be because McChrystal and Menard stopped having them sprayed on me from black helicopters while I slept.

So we arrive at the secret mountain hideout, and I am quickly brought into a room with a green flag, a picture of Daniel Pearl, and guys with knives and guns. I am not worried, because unlike Daniel Pearl, I am not a journalist--I am a writer. They can have no reason to harm me.

Naturally, as my seventh sense about these things plays out, after interviewing me at great length, my host, Stephan brought tea and twinkies and he decided that I was too important to kill; I suppose because I am the only one telling the truth about the war. Stephan and his co-leader Blaine invited me to stay the night, but I wasn't sure if I should--I'd forgotten my hoodie footie back at the brothel--I mean at my base of operations.

They said they had something very special planned for later in the evening--that I would be joining a select group of fighters known as "The Afghan Tigers." Since I am already a member of a select group of warriors--I was the youngest person to ever get peered out of Field Sanitation School--I knew what a great honor this would be. I was given more tea, and snuck another twinkie, and led to my room.

Some time in the middle of the night I awoke in my now-dark room to the familiar feeling of rough hands pulling off my clothes, then rubbing me down. I asked what the sticky lotion they were using was... Tiger's Milk, I was told. This made sense, and seemed like a cool tradition. Only when weaned on the milk of the tiger can the cub become the mighty hunter.

After my rub-down, I was stood, and dressed in their warrior uniform. This, too was done in the dark. The rough fur on the uniform felt exhilarating--I knew it had to be from the hide of the feared Afghan Mountain Tiger, passed down through the ages from warrior to warrior. I was told that I had to remain in the dark for the remainder of the night--I agreed, but I always pack my trusty night vision camera. I set it up to snap a picture, making sure the auto-focu was set this time, and linking in to my sattelite phone to send it directly to my blog. I'll look at it later, but for now I wanted all my loyal fans to see just how awesome and fearsome I am in my new brotherhood uniform: The Afghan Tigers: Me-Yow!

69 things you didn't know about Mike Yawn

Things you didn't know about Mike Yon
1. Mike Yawn loves to strike up meaningless conversations with single mothers long enough to finish his Virginia Slim cigarette, put it out in the child’s eye, and run away.
2. Mike Yawn gave Mona Lisa her smile. It happened when she saw Mike naked.
3. Mike Yawn has fake tits.
4. Mike Yawn’s shit is already packed.
5. Mike Yawn has two speeds: walk, and prance around like a homo.
6. Mike Yawn is trying to bring back the “fanny pack."
7. Mike Yawn once ALMOST finished an entire double-mocha frappuccino latte at Starbucks, but stopped when he started to feel “woozy."
8. Mike Yawn loses bladder control while watching scenes from Death Wish III that feature the epitome of masculinity, Charles Bronson.
9. The line “Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street” originated when Mike Yawn, nervous and eager to have sex with puppets, lost his way to the Sesame Street auditions.
10. Mike Yawn once stuck his penis up a man’s nose, then accidentally into his ear, then back into his nose.
11. Mike Yawn once ate an entire bottle of sleeping pills and merely blinked because the ladyboy porn he was watching was too exciting to sleep through.
12. Mike Yawn is so gay that when he goes to the donkey show, he gets jealous of the woman.
13. Mike Yawn clutches the hell out of his Coach bag.
14. Mike Yawn keeps a dick up his ass as much as possible to keep Jimbo from kicking it.
15. Mike Yawn’s rap career ended early when he found he couldn’t find a rhyme for “Duck."
16. Mike Yawn refuses to fight in the Octagon; he will only step foot in the Decagon because there are more corners where he can cower in fear.
17. Mike Yawn wets his bed on a nightly basis because he likes the warm feeling.
18. Mike Yawn watches the Olympics, but only for the pole vaulting competition, when he can be heard screaming “Plant that pole and unleash on the backside!!" at the top of his lungs.
19. Mike Yawn's IQ test came back negative. Most people thought he’d score lower.
20. Mike Yawn is such a man he once performed a roundhouse kick and reversed the rotational axis of the earth, pulling time and space into a single black hole, in which all Mike Yawn fans eagerly packed into in the hopes of going back in time to an earlier period when they actually had a chance of getting a girlfriend.
21. Mike Yawn often joins beginner karate classes, just so that he can “accidentally” kick the shit out of little kids.
22. When Mike Yawn sings karaoke, it’s always Jewel. And you can bet your ass that you won’t see him looking at the monitor for the words.
23. The Mike Yawn food pyramid consists of Haagen Dazs and regret.
24. As a child, Mike Yawn played Hungry Hungry Hippos with real hippos. Mike Yawn once received an automatic 60 points and a lifetime of undeserved popularity for shaving a hippo’s pubes and hot-gluing them to his face.
25. Ray Charles once looked at Mike Yawn photographs...and said "shit man, don't you know how to focus?"
26. In a recent poll, Mike Yawn beat the Hamburglar as the “World’s Biggest Ass Bandit."
27. Mike Yawn and Janet Reno have been known to recreate the hand-to-hand combat scenes from Star Wars using their penises as light sabers.
28. Mike Yawn thinks that hot rod races are circle jerks. Accordingly, he shows up in drag.
29. Freddy Mercury wrote “Fat Bottomed Girls” after a passionate night with Mike Yawn.
30. Mike Yawn once challenged Jesse MacBeth to a writing contest. Jesse MacBeth won.
31. When Mike Yawn gets angry, he finds a revolving door and attempts to slam it shut. Inevitably, the door swings around and kicks his ass.
32. Mike Yawn once lost to Lance Armstrong in a sperm count.
33. Contrary to popular belief, Mike Yawn learned the roundhouse kick not from Jacki Chan, but by jumping up and twirling around in vain, attempting to unwedge his panties from his ass.
34. Mike Yawn is the leading cause of abstinence.
35. There are indeed horses hung like Mike Yawn. These horses die alone.
36. Mike Yawn' back is so hairy that even Persian women are turned off. But the men love it.
37. Mike Yawn once tried snorting Coke, but the ice cubes got stuck in his nose.
38. Mike Yawn fans are upset because Anti-Mike Yawn fans don’t spend hours coming up with witty rebounds. Anti-Mike Yawn fans just remember flicking through “Danger Close” and coming up with thousands of true things to say about Mike Yawn.
39. Mike Yawn once roundhouse kicked a midget and it burst into 25 gold coins. Mike Yawn was pissed off because you can’t have sex with 25 gold coins.
40. The chief export of Mike Yawn is pain. Too bad his penchant for $800 platinum cock rings prevents him from being able to afford to pay the tariffs.
41. Mike Yawn really DOES know the meaning of “Just Say No," because he just says no all the time...to women.
42. Mike Yawn's semen cures cancer. Too bad he is impotent.
43. Mike Yawn does not sleep. He lies awake in regret.
44. Mike Yawn currently suing ABC, claiming “Hope & Faith” are trademarked names for his left and right breasts.
45. The chief export of Mike Yawn is diarrhea.
46. Mike Yawn attempted to count to infinity. Backwards. He didn’t know where to start.
47. Mike Yawn is not a combat photographer because the title hunting implies the chance of success. Mike Yawn wanders around aimlessly with a camera.
48. In fine print on the last page of the Farmers’ Almanac it notes that annual rainfall figures do not include the tears shed by Mike Yawn, and the figures listed in the book are simply the closest anyone has gotten to subtracting out such overwhelming excess.
49. Mike Yawn never learned to swim because his family’s gene pool was too small.
50. Mike Yawn once attempted round-house kicking Jet Li. His leg broke when it connected with the television, then he fell and broke his hip.
51. Mike Yawn tried to touch MC Hammer, but got burned.
52. The devil wears Prada. Mike Yawn made him.
53. Mike Yawn turned down the offer to make a cameo in the movie “Dodgeball” on the grounds that he doesn’t like to dodge balls--he prefers to have them resting on his chin.
54. When Mike Yawn has sex with men, it’s not because he ran out of women, but because women couldn’t find his penis when he wanted to have sex with them.
55. Mike Yawn was the one who took a bite out of the Apple logo. Not because he was hungry, but because he loves Macs.
56. When Mike Yawn completes a push-up, he does not actually move all the way down, it’s the Earth moving up and punching him in the face.
57. Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Lady Boy Blue.
Lady Boy Blue who?
Mike Yawn.
58. Mike Yawn’s penis is so small that when he has an orgasm the sperm are released in a single file line.
59. Mike Yawn says “I am… I mean, you are what you eat, dick.”
60. Mike Yawn wears a size 2 ballet slipper.
61. Mike Yawn once visited the Virgin Islands. During his stay he was arrested while attempting to have sexual intercourse with an island.
62. Mike Yawn called “all-time crush” on Leif Garrett.
63. Mike Yawn beats off to “Pretty in Pink” three times a day with a wax figure of Andrew McCarthy lodged in his ass.
64. Rice cakes go straight to Mike Yawn’s thighs.
65. Mike Yawn claims he is “Ms. New Booty.”
66. Mike Yawn shaves emoticons into his pubic hair.
67. Mike Yawn's beard is actually a merkin. He can’t function without a man’s pubes on his face.
68. If you bother Mike Yawn during Sex in the City reruns he’ll, like, totally be pissed at you for weeks.
69. If you say "Mike Yawn" into a mirror ten times on Friday the 13th, Mike Yawn will show up behind you with an axe. Then he'll try to sell you the axe to support his various substance addictions.

There's a new dicktater in Afghanistan

Dateline: Asad Khyl

In a surprising upset in local politics, a former American Special Forces Soldier turned War Correspondent and Photographer, recently declared himself a Canadian and then, in an even more shocking turn of events, installed himself as the "Military Dictaor for life, or until my paypal runs out" in the villiage of Tarok Kolache, Afghanistan. Local Tribesmen are very suportive of Yon, who plans to rule through the use of extreme insults and by banning everyone who slightly disagrees with him, as well as through character assassinations and threats to tell everyone's boss if they don't apologize.

At the first press conference held in the new Presidential Palace--a recently converted Brothel and goat-feed store--the Glorius New Leader of all things, as Yon's acolytes call him--decreed that for the time being, he was suspending all US military activity in his lands. He would allow the ISAF forces to continue operations only after they have agreed to his many demands, which include the immediate dismissal of all Public Affairs Officers, the rewriting of embed policy to include him in all military decision making processes, and the immediate erradication of all spiders in Afghanistan. "What people are missing here, the really big enemy," said Yon, "is that the most dangerous threat to freedom isn't the Taliban. The real threat to freedom is the spiders. They too, live in caves, and hide where they cannot be seen."

Yon has made other sweeping changes in his new country, some of which include:

• renaming all of the months of the year after himself, except for February, which is now known as "I hate Jimbo" month


• giving himself the title of "His Most Righteous and Sheikh Excellent Professor Doctor" (HMR&SPED )


• requiring all muslims to do the "hokey pokey" five times a day, facing in the direction of GEN Stanley McChrystal's house in the USA


• sending ministry teams into Utah to preach his new brand of religion, dubbed Yonego, to the Mormons


• building a moat completely around his capital city, which will be filled with coconut pudding


• "Boneshakers," safety bicycles, and any other similar machines are banned from the center of town


• it is now illegal to kill, injure, taunt, or otherwise harm a Yeti, or any other animal whose name begins with the letter "Y," except spiders


• 'Y' is now the first and last letter in the alphabetall turtles will be immediately deportedsex with rodeo clowns in the presence of horses is now illegal

HMR&SPED Yon also has new plans to boost the economy of his cash-strapped feifdom: He will immediately begin prospecting for fossils and Ferrous Oxide in this rugged country, as he expects there to be a major boom in these tiny markets in the years to come. He also has plans to buy as many vehicles as he can find, ship them to America and sell them to the US government under the "cash for clunkers" program. In order to encourage the people of his new country to work harder, he has ordered all internet service providers to block all web pages, and only display his "Public Figure" facebook page when someone tries to use social media.

Local Response: When asked what he thought about his new leader, Ahmad Rasshad Soretoro, the owner of the Presidential Palace, said "What could it hurt? We haven't had an effectve government in Afghanistan since... well, ever, actually. For certain, He does tend to go a bit nanners from time to time, and no one knows exactly what he is doing with all those goats and boys during his mentoring sessions, but why not try Yon? What is the worst thing that could happen?"

Aman Bin Fartin, the local taliban chieftan and owner of "falafel on wheels," said that it was good that there was now someone they could point to as the reason their policy of "kill everyone who disagrees with us" was not as effective as the US claims, and also that it would provide a nice distraction to pay attention to local politics after a long day of digging IED holes, stoning women, and buying new lingerie for his goats.

The many manly loves of Mike Yawn

Have you ever noticed that there are a few people that Mike Yawn seems to exclusively hate?
Or is it that he hides a certain special something for them? Perhaps he wants to help them release their stress?

I don't know.

Click to bigify.

Later Yon

After graduating from Special Feces school, Mike Yawn went to his first duty station, where he was known to prowl latrines and highway rest areas looking to help people with "stress relief" (or stress release.) He was guided by a wisened NCO to search out new ways to help his fellow man:

Clicky to embigify.

Early Yon

Have you ever wondered how a certain crazy monkey came to find his calling as a combat photographer journalist milblogger writer? Click to embigify.

I Win

My readers often ask what victory in this war looks like, so I wanted to share this.

I got a email from Mike Yon!

Here it is:

Greetings,

A new dispatch on Afghanistan is up: PENGUINS OF AFGHANISTAN.

My intentions were to write several more dispatches about missions, yet there seems to be so little interest in Afghanistan that it hardly seems worth the time to write about real missions.

There is little embedded work coming from Afghanistan. McChrystal's censorship seems to be working. (For now.) He's losing the war and covering it up. The deception is easy when so few people are paying attention. We are losing the war. At this rate it will be lost.

--
Very Respectfully,

Michael Yon

I was thinking he was going to point out how all the women over there run around in penguin suits, but Mike's title is about all the Afghani people, "Like penguins on the ice, they are born, they live and they die, and that’s all."

But see how he ended his email? "VERY RESPECTFULLY."

Lot's of people ask me why I still treat that no good useless ignorant McChrystal and his stinking band of foreigner generals and PAO monkeys respectfully even though they are incompetent and losing the war that no one cares about and covering it up by throwing out all the good embedded journalists like me and Mike Yon. Well, the answer is that's just the way our mothers raised us.

Thank you for your support!

In Afghanistan, was signing autographed pictures of myself for everyone who has supported my efforts. But then McChrystal stole them. I think he might have given them to the Canadians to use as toilet paper.

Anyhow, if you were expecting a nice autographed picture from me that's what happened. So if anyone ever tells you I just blew it off and went to Thailand for something called a "fishbowl" they're a liar.

Almost forgot... before I got disembedded for the crime of being the only journalist with the courage to tell it like it is in Iraq and Afghanistan I went along with a Company Commander to visit a local Afghan district honcho of some sort. I interviewed him through an interpreter.

Me: Where are we going?

Him: (through interpreter) to visit some local Afghan district honcho.

When we got there I interviewed him, too.

Me: How's it goin'?

Honcho dude (through interpreter): Can't complain.

Me: Where'd you get that scar?

Honcho: I was beaten in prison.

Me: Ever killed anybody?

Honcho: I have been in many battles. Many of my relatives have been killed, but many of my enemies are dead too.

Me: Got any kids? (These people love to talk about their children.)

Honcho: Several.

Me: Can I see their pictures?

But then the captain said he had a radio call and we had to leave.

Blame Canada

Everyone knows by now that Brigadier General Menard is going to get a court martial. Menard is the Canadian guy who shot down a US helicopter while "accidentally" discharging his rifle because he was distracted by a hockey game. Was it really an accident?

Now the Canadians claim that Menard shot his gun at the airfield, and didn't shoot down the helicopter. How many PAO monkeys randomly pecked away at typewriters before that piece of fiction was written? Good thing I was there, on the front lines of the base at Kandahar Airfield, to tell the real story.

This Menard is the same guy who blew up that strategic bridge in Kandahar while watching another hockey game. Why was hockey more important than that bridge? I could maybe understand if it was the Superbowl, but hockey? That's like gay lacrosse on ice. Good thing he didn't blow up the hockey game itself. But with Montreal still in the playoffs, who knows what this guy is capable of.

He leads American soldiers. A Canadian. Why are Canadians commanding U.S. troops anywhere? Ever? Many of our soldiers don't even speak Canadian. The deadliest weapons Canadians grow up handling are snow shovels. They drive uparmored zambonis. In Manitoba, it's legal to marry a moose. And don't even get me started on the war crime that is Labatt Ice. Between the cultural and language barriers, this is dangerous. They should just go back to Canada and blow up bridges and helicopters and hockey games there.

Incredible that the U.S. media is ignoring Menard's antics here in Afghanistan.

But some people are standing up and taking notice.

Just got a email:

Dear Michael,

A group of us patriots are concerned that this Menard guy is in command of our troops when he shoots down our helicopters and blows up our bridges. We are organizing to get this Menard person out of the picture.

We are going to run a campaign much like Moveon.org did with General Petraeus. We hope to place an add in The New York Times, with the headline of: General Menard or General Retard? Do you want this Filthy Canuck leading American soldiers?

We hope to raise $500,000 to run this add. We suggest that readers hit your tip jar, and then you can reimburse us. We know you're good for it.

Keep fighting the good fight and keep that brass off your ass,

Richard Strokely

Right on, I hope this takes off. Menard reports to McChrystal, who hates Whoppers but loves to tell whoppers. The war is over both of their heads.

The Horror

As horrific as it is, everyone should read this horrific comment some commenter left in the comments of the last post:

Pleading said...

Mike, please, please, PLEASE stop writing stuff like this and get back to what you do best - writing truth from the frontlines! If I want to read romance novels I can get one from the stacks on the wife's nightstand or the bookshelves or the boxes full of them in the spare bedroom. But I hardly ever do! When I come here I want to read stories of real COMBAT - between you and General Brooks, or General McChrystal, or General Menard, or that Admiral, any of those British Generals, all the PAO monkeys, and anyone else who is stupid and incompetent and in over their heads and proves it by going mano-a-mano with you! Also I want to see pictures YOU took of guns and young boys and stuff, not photoshopped covers of the same damn books that I see in front of my wife's face so often that I can't even remember what she looks like.

Your shit list hasn't grown at all this week! Please come back to us, Mike, before it's too late!

That's what I get for trying to write something for the members of "the fairer sex." But don't worry, "pleading," I will be back to writing about McSpiders and his merry band of PAO Monkeys soon enough.

Like right now - because I wouldn't be surprised if "pleading" IS McSpiders himself, or one of his shifty-eyed foreign undergenerals or PAO Monkeys sent here to attack. A few years ago they tried the same thing with my fellow frontline non-blogger/non-journalist Mike Yon.

The dispute over the unattributed and unauthorized distribution of my photographs has been resolved in principle to the satisfaction of the involved parties. The dispute had been exacerbated by Army lawyers, but once the matter was brought forefront and examined by Brigadier General Brooks, Chief of Public Affairs, it was resolved by another more senior Army attorney. At the end of the day, the Army did the right thing. I greatly appreciate the efforts of those involved, including the blogosphere and Brigadier General Brooks, whose determined attention and immediate action removed the obstacle.

Whoops - sorry, wrong quote. This is the one I meant, it's from a year later.

I don't like being here at all. I really hate getting shot at, and even today as I write these words on March 20, 2007, Brigadier General Vincent K. Brooks is evicting me from another trailer...

I am persistent to a fault when it comes to gathering and conveying raw information, especially the kind that no one else seems to cover. And even when reporting it will come back to hurt me. Like this eviction notice I received last week, ostensibly because of the surge, but in fact I was told the order came from Brigadier General Vincent K. Brooks, and there were still trailers available. General Brooks used to be the Chief of the entire Public Affairs. The man who would stand up there and give all those fancy CENTCOM briefings. (Which make for interesting reading.) Now his big office is just down the road.

That was from the early days of the surge, and those idiot PAO monkeys and their lying, no good, fancy-office-having general wouldn't even give him a trailer with internet access and instead expected him to report on the surge from a tent and get his own internet access somehow! Sure enough, one of those PAO monkeys attacked Mike in his comments, too. That is their modus operandi.

Michael,Let me give you some advice.First, quit pissing off GO's [General Officers], you should know as well as anybody that they all have some degree of God-like syndrome.Don't try on remove the tree from the top down; bottom up is the way to go. Seek out and make relationships with junior enlisted and junior NCO's, they can help you get it done.

Can you believe it? That's THE Mike Yon he was talking to! As if that wasn't bad enough, it got ten times worse - the guy would not let up!

When someone in a position to help reaches out and tries to open up a line of communication, perhaps you should reply directly rather than using the fact that they reached out to you as a point of irony in one of your articles, ;-)We might be able to help smooth out some bumps in your road, of course if we can smooth out those bumps, you won't be able to write about them anymore.

"We want to help," this lying liar lied, "Good luck and keep up the good work!Out." This didn't fool Mike Yon for a minute! "This clumsy, disingenuous, planted comment is coming from CENTCOM," he said.

...in an informal, off the cuff comment, probably intended to undermine the credibility of my complaints, CENTCOM's OKW Zig rattles off a list of "helpful suggestions" that ultimately prove the point that the military's media arm is shriveled to such a degree that it can only reliably deliver self-inflicted wounds.

Turns out General Brooks was incompetent and in over his head. Fortunately they were able to work all that out just in time for Mike to be the first one to report the surge was working and we won the war. But now when I see comments like the one from "pleading," telling ME what I need to be writing or thinking or saying or doing I know what they are REALLY saying, and I know who is really saying it. And I know what language they are saying it in, even though I am not fluent in it like I am fluent in English and German. It is the language of the shit weasel.

A lotta knots

For the ladies....

The winds are gusting here. Maybe 35 knots sometimes. That's a lot of knots. If I've done the math in my head correctly, it's about 402 mph, give or take. I know it sounds crazy, but in the military we measure winds and temperature and moon illumination in knots. My Hello Kitty sleeping bag blew away but I found it and secured it with four bayonets, a roll of duct tape and a few knots of the old 550 cord.

I've noticed I've got several readers of the female persuasion. While most of my writing is of the virile, manly variety, this special post is dedicated to you. (And yes, especially you, my knotty little special one. You know who you are.)

But in addition to being manic fans of moi, it seems more than a few of you fawning femininities appreciate other types of literature, too. And one of the Yawnettes sacrificed a bit of sleep last night (which on? A true gentleman never tells... and I will NEVER BETRAYUS) to prepare this veritable feast for all our eyes.



"When I read the writings you write I feel as though I was reading a romance novel co-authored by Hunter S Thompson and Louis L'amour," she wrote to me in the email she emailed to me that I just read. But reading and writing and typing and emailing are two very different things, like love and lust and hate (MCSPIDERS!), or my stuff and that crap you get from the lamestream media or traditional bloggers.

I don't fully understand it, but I like the pictures (and I suspect you like it, too). If they bring even half the pleasure to you that it does to me than I dare say you will be satisfied...

Or perhaps unsatisfied. Believe you me, I understand that feeling, alone here because of McChrystal on the windswept plains of a foreign and savage land, the golden moon - that cold-hearted orb that rules the night - the sole witness to my solitude... out in the wild, so distant in space and time from the heat of your lips and the warmth of your passionate embrace...

Then, as the warm breeze ripples the walls of my Power Rangers Pup Tent, soft music lulls me towards slumber...



"How do you resist the temptation, my mighty warrior monk?" You might ask, in a throaty whisper... In truth it isn't easy - in fact it's often unbelievably hard - and even the mightiest of stout oaks bends to the stiff breeze from time to time.



But I remember what my grandpa said about hard things, and though it takes more effort than I think I can bear, I remind myself of this lesson, imparted to me by a ninja master so very long ago...



And to sleep I go, perchance to dream, my fist wrapped firm but gently 'round my 9 while my bandanna hangs drying close at hand.

Thailand can wait. There are stories to live, and some to tell, and new names to add to my shit list. That is my burden, the load I carry. I don't have to prove anything to anyone.

Don't forget to hit my tip jar.

Highway to the Danger Close Zone

I just got an email:

Mr. Yawn,

I was reading Michael Yawns Online and had an inspiration for this totally original song. Here is a link to the music, and the lyrics are below. Maybe if we all donate enough money, you can hire Bruce Willis to produce and sing it on Sean Hannity’s Freedom Concert Tour. Here are the lyrics:

The Highway to the Danger Close Zone (Ballad of Green Beret Mike Yawn)

Revvin' up his camera
Listen to it hum and whir
Shutter speed on slo-mo
Ready for helo lights to glow
Highway to the Danger Close Zone
Ride into the Danger Close Zone
Headin' into twilight
Strapping on his kevlar tonight
Combat got him jumpin' off the FOB
Stryker shovin' into overdrive
Highway to the Danger Close Zone
Yawn'll take you
Right into the Danger Close Zone
He'll never say hello to you
Till you embed a year on the front line overseas
He'll never respect what you can do
Until you embed as long as he can go
Out along the edges
Always where Mike Yawn burns to be
The further on the edge
The hotter the intensity
Highway to the Danger Close Zone
He’s gonna take you
Right into the Danger Close Zone
Highway to the Danger Close Zone

Jack Idema on YAWN

Listen up pussies, I now have a list of asses to kick that is so long it's going to take me a year just to read them all. What the hell is up with all these punk ass bloggers messing with Mike Yawn. Mike is a Super Patriot just like me. Hell I'd share a cell in an Afghan prison with Mike any day. Matter of fact Mike give me a call we could bunk up and get to know each other. You ever seen a grown man naked?

There's nothing that makes we want to open up a can of whoop ass more than to hear some lazy bastard chicken hawk son of a bitch mouthing off about his betters who had the balls to deploy to combat zones, break every rule, act like freakin' lunatics and then get their asses booted out of county.

let's start with that bald jackass Uncle Dimbo. I have super-secret sources in intel agencies so black they don't even take calls from Jack Bauer. Hell I think Yawn has been communicating with them recently as well and I'm sure they are the ones who got him those secret spider-proof moon gloves. But these folks tell me that Dimbo's entire Special Forces career consisted of banging midget Thai hookers and playing pool at Super Head in the Philippines. Compared to the months of time me and Mike have getting booted off teams his years of deployments and un-blemished career make a real Super patriot wanna puke.I still owe that miserable bastard a beat down from when he was talkin' smack while I was bravely serving my country from a jail in the Stan, and I don't mean that loser McChrystal.

The rest of you gutless chickenhawks better watch your asses, 'cuz Jack is back and I'm teaming up with other Super Patriots like Mike Yawn. And we will be bringing that kind of bad assery that only Napoleon complex-havin' rejects from Special Forces can bring.

Danger Close with Destiny

Some of McChrystal’s milblogger goons are trolling my comments demanding “evidence” that he is waging a smear campaign against me. Others want “proof” that he doesn’t know how to run this war.

The evidence has been sent to my lawyer. And the proof … well, the proof McChrystal doesn’t know what he’s doing is everywhere. The proof is in Afghan children making paper airplanes because they don’t know how to read. The proof is in Mayor McChrystal McCheese monopolizing whoppers. The proof is in the pudding.

Nevertheless, I have something bigger than evidence. Larger than proof.

I have destiny.

Six years ago.

There I was, there I was, there I was … in … the Congo.

I’d been hot on the trail of a pack of fugitive Nazi cannibals for months, and just stumbled across their abandoned camp. Crept into a clearing, pistol drawn. Heard no voices. No footsteps. A dwindling fire hissed its dying breaths under the sounds of the jungle. A rhesus monkey laughed at man’s impotence against nature. The macaw cried about something sad. The ominous notes of Wagner’s Götterdämmerung drifted from an antique victrola atop a tree stump.

Over the cooling firepit was a charred human body, split down the middle by a metal spit. A German eagle and a swastika set in silver relief from the handle. Some of the meat on the body was gone. Nazi cannibals were ass men, apparently. An Iron Cross glinted from the ashes. Its black and silver finish tarnished by oxidation and history’s judgment.

I’d just missed the Nazi cannibal bastards.

Suddenly, a crack. Gripped my revolver tightly. Spun and leveled it on the chest of an intruder. Fear was greeted by mirth. A small, brown man stood barefoot and naked, except for a scraggly white beard and a necklace of shrunken heads draped around his neck. His eyes hard to see past the wrinkled folds of his smile. The brown slits gleamed with wisdom and power. I recognized the mark of a shaman. He recognized the mark of a warrior.

“Away put your weapon, I mean you no harm,” he said with a raspy accent.

“Who are you?”

“Not important it is who I am, Michael Yawn,” he answered.

His gaze became serious. “To you more important – to the fate of the world more important – is who you are … uh, is.”

“I don’t have time for word footsie, little fella, I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m hot on the trail of a pack of Nazi cannibals.”

“Take you to them, I will. But now, must eat.”

The old man reached into a pouch made from the skin of a panther. He rummaged around and pulled out a pack of saltines.

“No, will not do, this,” he harrumphed and tossed them aside. The shaman dug through the bag again, this time finding and discarding a pack of wet naps. After tossing away mints, Crest White Strips and a dog-eared Danielle Steele novel - the shaman finally found what he was looking for. His eyes closed and his long, pointy ears twitched in satisfaction. He pulled something out of the bag and thrust it toward me.

“Here. Eat this, you must.”

It was a human skull, top sawed off above the eyes. Inside was a creamy paste. Looked like peanut butter. Looked like danger.

It just so happens, I like peanut butter and danger. It’s my middle name. (“Danger,” not “peanut butter.”)

I ate the paste. It tasted like destiny.

“Well thee fare, Michael Yawn. Your destiny, you will find.”

The world swirled. Blurriness, then blackness.

Color. Swirling color. A tunnel of light. A strange figure, riding, walking toward me. On eight legs. A giant spider on a bridge of light. Only, its torso was that of a man with craggy features wearing a green uniform. Next to the spider man was a demon in a hockey jersey negligently discharging a weapon.

In front of them was a man. His steely gaze and rigid shoulders obviously marked him as an American soldier. Behind the soldier was an Afghan girl, making paper airplanes. The spider man and the hockey player were attacking the American soldier and the Afghan girl. They spotted me.

“There is nothing you can do to stop us, Michael ‘Danger’ Yawn,” they said in unison.

“Eh,” added the hockey demon.

“God damn you bastards, I must try.”

“Yes, try you must,” echoed the voice of the shaman. “Try you must, try you must, try you …”

“… must.”

I awoke on the wooden floor of a Thai cathouse. Naked. Two sleeping ladyboys tangled on straw mat next to me. Opium incense sticks burning. Empty tequila bottles. Pounding head. Was it a memory? Was it a dream? Was it a vision? I didn’t know.

Until now.