Monday, February 01, 2016

FIELD NOTES JANUARY 22, 2016~ Working, living, loving and dying in the third world!

Working, living, loving and dying in the third world!

Hello, is anyone there?

       The other unspeakable is getting thrown into the hoosegow, with foreign jails being the worst. If you are a person of Western or Eastern European descent with fair colored skin that looks like boiled liver, you will stand out like a giant raspberry on a whore's nose. Especially if everyone else is brown, black, off beige or slightly pale-yellow and they all speak another language. And it doesn't matter how many languages you mastered at the Defense Language Institute, Foreign Language Center at the Presidio or how high a score you made on your finals, everyone knows you're a foreigner the moment you open your pie-hole. You remember foreigners? It is that ancient, non-politically-correct word for assholes, that are not from around here. "Here," being where ever you are, incarcerated, held against your will and or in captivity, aka, jail.

      I have been in a couple of "jails" over the years. Got throw in a county jail recently because the judge said I was in contempt of court. I told him he had no idea how much contempt I held for him and his "fucking court."  It seems judges do not like for you to use the courts full and proper name.  That smart ass remark cost me a few hours in jail, plus a few thousand dollars. I guess money can't buy you love, but it can buy you out of jail since the judge has to make his country club and car payments. I am not saying they will take a bribe or payoff; I am just saying they are bureaucrats and elected officials. I hold the vast majority of them right up there with clowns, pedophiles, Henrick Hemler, used car salesmen and Democrats.

      As a side note, if "they," really want you "they," will get you on some charge, real or fake and you can fight it, but you will lose. "They," have endless bureaucratic pencil dicks, who do nothing but figure out ways to part you from your money, and or freedom. I have found the only difference in American lawyers, courts, judges, and jails is the amount of money you have to pay them to either stay out or get out of your imprisonment. It is just cheaper in foreign countries.

      Got thrown in a military lockup once for ----Ah! Let's just leave it at that, needless to say, and it was not fun.  I was there for about three days until the Command Sergeant Major found me. I have never seen an officer get dressed down so badly by a non-com, as that captain did. Sergeant Major was shoving my identification, in the captain's face and pointing out with numerous expletives what individual codes my clearance card meant.  It was a sort of Monopoly 'Get out of jail free card' with phone numbers to call.  All theSergeant Major was lecturing the Captain about his mother's sexual explicit adventures with sailors and farm animals.  End of story is, there was no "bad" time on my DD214, no loss of pay, and I was driven straight to the airport where my baggage and passage out of that time zone were awaiting me.

      Foreign jail on the other hand or the proverbial MoFo, in polite language. First off if you are an American, you are a target because you are from the Big PX, and have an endless supply of money. You know that tree that all the money grows on in your backyard?  Now to bust your bubble, in the movies, the pencil dick from the embassy comes over and finds you languishing in a cell.  He is a gasp and immediately calls the Commandant of the prison and "demands" your release.
      "He is an American ---- How dare you not call the embassy ---- Get him out of there," Pencil Dick, shouts with righteous indignation.

      The Commandant, bitch slaps the lieutenant, who in turn bitch slaps the sergeant who in turn locates a set of keys and lets you out of your cell. After Pencil Dick gets you out of 'El Fuego Dumpo Banana Prison'  he hands you a fist full of money while you ride over to the four-star hotel, all the time begging for your forgiveness.  Once there you get to sit on the porcelain throne of future worlds without fear of getting bitten on the ass by a snake. Time for a long, hot, shower, grab a bottle of cold beer and stretch out on the sheets and take a nap. When you awake the sun is down, it is cool outside, and you feel so much better; it is time to get dressed and find something to eat.

       The only guy working at this hour is a street vendor charcoaling something with long toenails on a refrigerator cooling-coil, over a Gulf Oil barrel. Oh, goody! He is cooking "monkey-meat" tacos, with his families' secret, sauce recipe, tonight.  Wow! You got out of jail just in time.

      In real life, nobody from the embassy is coming to get you out of jail. They could care less, and you are just another asshole on a long, paper list of other assholes that got caught doing something stupid. Unless you have some special papers hid out, a great secret, or a talent that "Uncle" needs, then your butt is grass and the people with funny names who sweat a lot, and smell like goat urine, are the lawnmower.

     However, maybe, just maybe if you have some specialty uncles needs ---- he may get you and send your lonesome out of the county.  By the way, the stretched nylon web seats in the back of uncle's C-130, or other designated number is almost impossible to sleep in, and the engine noise along with the JP fuel odors will give you a headache. When you do get to where-ever uncle is sending you, the lift gate lowers, the hot, humid air of another paradise rushes on board carrying with it a whiff of monkey meat pies and open sewers.

      Even though I never cared for the seventh floor at Langley, life is good. I did however especially like the job title on my business card, "Human Resource Management Coordinator."

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