Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Nice rack ... and the waitress looks good, too.

My CO is leaving at the end of next month after 30 years in the Corps, and being the loving "second family" we are, we are making him a video as a going away present.

The premise will be that he comes to work late, goes home early, drinks all day and wastes his night away in bars and strip clubs. While none of it is true, mind you, it should make for a great video.

This morning the boss and I went to Bourbon St. to film a scene in which the Colonel, having been at work for all of an hour, leaves to grab a bite to eat. Where better than at a topless cabaret?

Now I, like all Americans, seriously overuse the word love. It's horrible that my affinity for Chicken Andouille Gumbo is expressed with the same word that I tell my children 100 times a day each.

(Salient note: Tell your kids you love them. They'll never get sick of hearing it and they're never too young to hear it)

However, I love food and I love the way the good Lord designed the upper half of the female anatomy. I don't, after careful consideration and debate with coworkers, understand the combination of the two.

While the boss and I did not actually enter the establishment, we did see men ranging from Boudreaux the carpenter with clothes matted with sweat to Tomas the corporate lawyer in his $1500 suit enter for a meal with a view.

Side note: Men, when entering a topless club in broad freakin' daylight on a city block containing nothing but adult clubs, it is not nescessary to walk briskly to the entrance of said establishment, pause, check your six, and then kinda "accidentally" stumble into the resturant. Some guys did their best to look like they were walking down Bourbon St. minding their own business when all of the sudden for no reason at all they were sucked helplessly into a club full of all you can eat prime rib and bare 38 Ds. Nice try. I'm not buying it.

Anyway, today the marquee touted all you can eat BBQ ribs. The following scene kept being imagined by the boss and I, as we shared a hearty belly laugh at others' expense.

Patron: Hey, baby. Come here often?
Stardust McGee: Nice. I work here, slick. What'll it be?
Patron: Yeah, lemmie get the all you can eat ribs, a water with lemon - I gotta go back to work and all- a salad with ranch dressing, and a lap dance to Vertigo by U2.
Stardust: Would you like fries with that?


Along with the usual pains in the ass that come with taking your clothes off and rubbing yourself against guys you don't know for a living, It would totally suck to get all those greasy BBQ fingerprints off your ... um, "clothes," after your shift.

On a more serious note, a helicopter went down in Iraq, killing 31 of my brothers. I know those who have not served will not and cannot understand this, but I honestly do hurt each and every time a Marine goes down. I mourn when a member of another service dies, but I hurt for the Marines.

Ladies and gentlemen, we are a brotherhood. We have been fired in the same kiln, forged by the traditions and excellence that the Corps has been legendary for since 1775. That's right- the Marines have been around longer than the country we now defend.

While there are exceptions, Marines excel on the battlefield and then in the Urban jungle as well. Actors (Harvey Keitel, Gene Hackman), Politicians (John Glenn, Zell Miller), Athletes (Ted Williams, Lee Trevino) and Businessmen (CEOs of Motion Picture Association of America, Bank of America, J Walter Thompson, etc) have cut their teeth in the Marines.

Pray for those in combat. They can use all the help they can get.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. For he today that sheds his
blood with me shall be my brother, and those [who chose not to go] shall think themselves accursed they were not here

Henry V, William Shakespeare


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