Y’know I used to think the only thing that kept me from being a kick-ass war fightin’ Marine like General Aesop was the fact that I was too chicken and craven.
Do Marines even get PTSD? I honestly don’t see how they could! Good gawd… I think I’m getting PTSD after seeing that!
I’m ready for a rubber room, a great big tub of lithium, and maybe a straight jacket. I’m gonna have nightmares about this.

Triple chins, side and back boobs, more rolls than Michelin Man....it can accomodate a platoon at a time, a company every twenty minutes, a battalion an hour. All that dead skin and fungus even tastes like crayon, with a hint of roadkill. Jarhead heaven!
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