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Category: Military

One Banana, Two Banana, Three Banana, Banzai!

One Banana, Two Banana, Three Banana, Banzai!

I don’t know, man. After the, how shall we say it, unpleasantness back in the 1940s, we decided that Japan shouldn’t be so militaristic. We encouraged them to make Speed Racer cartoons instead of replacements for the Musashi. We assured them that if they limited themselves to singing karaoke versions of Sinatra songs, and making transistor radios to play them on, we’d make ICBMs and point some of them over their heads to the scary people to their west. Now I see we’ve gone too far.

This video is a ceremony to commemorate the founding of the Japanese Air Defence Force, and these are air defense pilots. And to a man, I’ll bet they’d rather be on the receiving end of another nuclear attack than have to participate in another of these Banana Splits skits.

You Call That A Shovel? This Is A Shovel.

You Call That A Shovel? This Is A Shovel.

I want one. No, check that, I want three. I would empty my entire bank account to get my hands on one of these babies. Just think of all the yardwork you could get done. The weeds never stood a chance. The potato-chopping majesty of the combat shovel rules all. You can use it to trim your toenails, chop down a tree, or bludgeon your enemies. The Chinese army shovel puts the Swiss army knife to shame. And Chinese army uniforms are 17 percent less goofy than Swiss Guard unis.

Maybe it’s not the shovel itself that got me hooked. I’m sort of a sucker for infomercials, truth be told. I’d buy a snowcone in February if it had advertising with that John Wayne-ish soundtrack in the background. As long as operators are standing by, my wallet is in danger. Say, I wonder if this juliennes anything. I’d buy anything that juliennes stuff. I don’t even know what that means, but is sounds nifty, doesn’t it?

Said It Before, I’ll Say It Again: It’s All Conversation Compared To The Military

Said It Before, I’ll Say It Again: It’s All Conversation Compared To The Military

We’re paying attention to the choppah pilot and the boat, as is appropriate, of course, but let’s take a moment to consider: The Man With the Flags. We could call him the Landing Signal Officer, but where’s the fun in that? He’s The Man With the Flags to us. It’s much jauntier, don’t you think?

I don’t think it would be a very pleasant place to stand, that spot that The Man With the Flags stands in. The pilot at least has a windshield between him and Armageddon. The boat captain is wearing a very big suit of armor indeed. But The Man With the Flags is just out there in his uni, waving his arms around and muttering to himself like a man with Tourette’s, hoping that dang flier doesn’t sneeze at an inopportune moment and send The Man With the Flags into an improvised heli-patrolboat cuisinart.

Here’s to you, Man With the Flags. We salute you! But don’t salute back just now, or Orville will ditch it in the Atlantic and you’ll get busted back to swabbie.

Where the Rubber Meets the Road

Where the Rubber Meets the Road


Where the rubber meets the road, and the road meets the ocean, and the pedal meets the metal, and the airplanes meet the aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford for the first time.