Many, many years ago, when I was just a young PFC at Ft. Bragg, my squad leader was SSG Asher.
Sergeant Asher was quite possibly the most profane man I've ever met. He could not speak without cussing. I honestly believe that if you were to fine him for every curse word, he'd be broke in fifteen minutes.
A relic of the draft days, he'd stayed on in the US Army,quite possibly because he was utterly useless at anything. I cannot remember what his MOS (the job he was trained to do). He was a poor NCO. He was the sort of leader who didn't lead so much as walked along and hoped everyone followed. His supervision of soldiers was so hands off as to be non-existent. His strategy was based on the hopes that if he didn't piss you off, you would repay him by behaving.
He also had a store of jokes, most of them just dirty enough to make them good ones. In the three years I was in that unit, he told a joke almost every day, and I never heard him repeat the same joke twice. Amazingly, I still remember many of them.
My mind has a strange filing system for jokes. If you ask me to tell a joke, I might remember one...but when I do, the rest are all there, waiting to be told. Most of them are dirty, but not pornographic, or filthy, or racist, or misogynistic.
I love a good joke. Because it's my blog, I'm going to start putting them down here. (My wordpress blog, "Throughthebridlelightly.wordpress.com" was meant to be a semi joking one, and never got there. So I'll start by putting jokes here, just for fun.
So, with a tip of the cap to SSG Asher, of the 8th PSYOP Bn, Ft. Bragg, here's today's joke:
A man had lost his job and had no money. But he did have land and some farm animals, to include a large, full grown sow.
He decided to have her bred so that he could raise pigs to sell as weaners. When the sow came into heat, he discovered that few people have boar pigs. He searched the internet and finally found a farmer about two hours away who had a breeding boar. He called the man, who agreed to have the sow bred, but the man would have to bring the sow to his farm.
The man had a pickup truck, so he figured all it would take was some time and gas money to take the sow to the boar.
The sow, however, had other ideas. She absolutely refused to load (horsemen, we understand this, DON'T WE). She would NOT get into the pickup. The man finally had to get his wife to help and between one of them pulling the sow with a rope and the other pushing her with a sharp stick, the sow, reluctantly got into the bed of the truck.
The man drove to the boar owner's farm, apologizing for his lateness. The sow was very happy to get off the truck. They put her in with the boar, which promptly bred the sow. Then they had to load the sow all over again. This time she was even harder to load. The man wanted to pay for the breeding, but the owner said, "no, let's wait to see if she's caught'.
A month later, the sow came into heat. The man called the boar owner with the news that the sow wasn't pregnant. The boar owner said, 'well, I warned you. Bring her back."
So the man and his wife had to wrestle the sow into the truck. She was again, resistant and stubborn and again, it took a long time and a lot of work to finally get her into the truck.
The man drove her to the boar owner's farm. The sow was bred by the boar. As usual, she was a real pain to load into the pickup for the trip back home.
A month later, the man's wife said, "The sow is in heat again."
"Damn it" the man said, "I'm sick of it. I can't bring myself to wrestle that old pig up into the truck. It's not worth it."
"Well, you better tell that to the pig". his wife said.
"Well, she's sitting in the cab of the truck, blowing the horn."