Sgt. C.J. Sabre, SASS #46770

The Original Ten Rules for dating my Daughter: Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up. Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them. Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: you may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist. Rule Four: I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate: When it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you. Rule Five: In order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is “early.” Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry. Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like change the oil in my car? Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and goose down parka zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better. Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me. Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy outside of Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight, speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car. There is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine. Now go, and have a nice time…

Prom night?

FIFY

Oh I'm positive that we're not going around this circuit again. To many negative memories. I'll just blow a fuse.

I'm with Alpo on this one. I spent 30 years driving a truck and saw this behavior nearly every day. And it's usually some self important Jackwagon that thinks that since he has an expensive car that he's better than the rest of us. I made more than a few of them stop and wait in my day, and if I hadn't been driving a company truck, would have made a lot more of them. I still do it in my Jeep when it seems to be needed to be done. As a side note, when I have the top off especially, I really like it when one of them make a Big Deal about passing me, just to have me catch up to him at the next red light. I'll pull up beside him, clap my hands, and in my best Marine Corps Drill Instructor voice, give him a, "ALL RIGHT! CONGRATULATIONS! YOU BEAT ME TO THE RED LIGHT!"

Uncle Bob?

When he wears a hat it don't show.

When asked why he chose not to run for reelection, he is reported to have said, "No chance for advancement."

Be careful. They might not let you run the self checkout anymore.

In my 81mm Mortar Platoon, we were regularly described as a cross between Baa Baa Black Sheep, F Troop, and McHale's Navy. We had a VARIED cast of characters at the time. We even had a guy that could pass for a young Andy Griffith.

Well, you never know who's in there.

I used to have that same set!

Big 'Uns!

No it's not! That's not a carrot! That's a hot dog! Sorry. Double tap.

No it's not! That's a hot dog!

RIP.

Actually here in Tucson there are a lot of Palm Trees. But there is a company that does that and more. https://www.celltreesinc.com/

I don't sit on the floor if there's nobody around to HELP me get up.

Since the can is to camouflage the gas filler, it's almost certainly mounted in place. And in today's world, number one, I doubt if very many people would get that the can should be on the ground unless it was on tick tac or whatever, and number two, I don't care what they think.

I have to say that I like that a LOT better than a filler cap in the middle of the bed like I see on the custom car TV shows.

THIS GUY!

Usually Weaver though.