In response to Bob Owens’ most recent post on Beauchamp, commenter BohicaTwentyTwo notes:
Looking back at his writings with a new perspective, it all seems so Emo, doesn’t it? It has that whiny, my life is so hard, my life is filled with infinite sadness, my life is filled with absurdity, I am surrounded by idiots and fools, feel to it. In one of his blog entries he described Camp Buehring in Kuwait as “Hell’s Waiting Room.” He then went on to describe the heat in Kuwait as, what a “suicide feels when he sticks his head in an oven.”Oy, cry me a river PFC Thomas. At least this explains my desire to beat the crap out of him.
Emohawk. I like it.
UPDATE: More AbFab! (Absolutely fabulist)
“suicide feels when he sticks his head in an oven.” This is what happens when the desire to be edgy over-runs common sense.
Cautionary Note: If you’re feeling suicidal, please seek professional help…
HOWEVER…
If you stick your head in the oven and you feel heat, I think you’re doing it wrong. You want to asphyxiate not bake at 350 degrees until done.
llb–
Stick a fork in him . . .
“If you stick your head in the oven and you feel heat, I think you’re doing it wrong. You want to asphyxiate not bake at 350 degrees until done.”
He’s even a poseur at despair, sweet jayzus…
Emo…it all fits now. Perfect.
I wonder if he even knows that it makes a difference whether the oven is gas, electric, or microwave.
It’s much faster than cutting your wrists with an electric razor.
He was probably trying it out with an electric oven….
Arg. Dr. Weevil beat me to it.
Curses.
Did you hear about the suicidal guy who was afraid of heights, so he jumped out a basement window?
This seemed appropriate: http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2004/03/17
[Playing a video game]:
Tycho: What’s the button in “Battlefield Vietnam” to pick up stuff?
Gabe: That’s “G.”
Tycho: What’s the button to watch your best friend die, get hooked on drugs, and then return to a country that hates you?
Gabe: I’m not sure there is a… Oh, it’s “Q.”
Beauchamp was surrounded by fools and idiots when he was all alone.
The rest of the time, not so much.
You can take the boy outta France, but you can’t take the France outta the boy. Here’s to hoping the stockade’s library is out of everything but Sartre…
TW: Register ORDINANCE – sounds like a cockamamie scheme the French’d have
BALLAD OF PRIVATE BEAUCHAMP
(Apologies to the Talking Heads)
Heard of a Humvee without enough armor
Got the material I need
Heard of some gravesites, by FOB Falcon
I got enough for my screed
The sound of gunfire, off in the distance
Never been near it myself
But that don’t matter, to that TNR boy
I’ve lied so much about myself
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
this ain’t no fooling around
Got to trash this war, and all my comrades
Y’know it got Kerry real far.
Transmit the blog post, I just hit upload
hope no one fact checks my shit
I got three stories, I’ll title ‘Shock Troops’
The lefties really dig it
Inside a warehouse, trucks are loading
I have a menial job
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nigh time
My sergeant thinks I’m a slob
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
this ain’t no fooling around
I’m writing stories, for TNR now
I’m getting my ticket punched
Heard about Kerry? Heard about Harkin?
Heard about Murtha you say?
You know they all faked their wartime exploits
And they got a really long way
I got a wife who, works for a lib rag
And baby that was my in
Y’know they won’t fact check
Y’know they won’t question, I feel just like Joe Wilson
Why stay in college? In the fine arts program?
Gonna be different this time?
I’ll pretend I’m a macho, vetran psycho
Who just saw too much, that’s all
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco
this ain’t no fooling around
Babe, I’d love to hold you, I’d like to kiss you
But I’m getting my ticket punched
Trouble back home, got my shit published
People are reading it now
Now they’re fact checking, having real vetrans read it
My lies are screaming out loud
They’re trying to find me, trying to ID me
Shit! they got my unit tagged
I’ve changed my story so many times now
Oh damn my shits in the bag!
You make me shiver, I feel so tender
When I have to use my real name
I’m so exhausted, from so much lying
I’d like to sneak out in drag
Get my instructions, follow directions
And call them all chickenhawks
Yeah that’s it chickenhawks, it’s always seemed to work before
But now I’m a liar, or as they say fabulist
What’s worse they think I’m a bore.
I’m feeling alone, my friends all gone now
Hey where did everyone go?
Gotta face the music
All by myself now
You know partisans are that way
They love a winner, but hate a looser
you better watch what you say
[…] figured out why we all hate Pvt. Beauchamp: he’s clearly emo. Posted by Ian S. […]