Semper Fraudatorem

2:15 AM:

A young drunk guy comes in with a bit of blood and a bruise on his face.

"What happened to you?" I ask.
"Oh, I got in a fight at the bar," he says.
"What's the other guy look like?"
"I kicked the dude's ass," he replies. "I was a Marine; I know what I'm doing."
"Well, Semper Fi," I say.
"Huh?"
"Semper Fi!"

He looks confused.

"What was your MOS?" I ask.
"What do you mean?"
"Your Military Occupation Specialty . . . what did you do in the Corps?

An awkward pause.

"I'm not allowed to talk about it."
"No? That secretive, hey?"
"Dude, you don't even know."
"I understand. Where did you go to boot camp?"
"I didn't go to boot camp, they sent me right to recon school."
"Really? Wow! You must have been good. Did you go to ARS at Fort Story?"

Another awkward pause.

"Dude, I said I can't talk about it, okay?"
"I can see that," I reply. "Are you 'dual fool' and all that high-speed shit?"
"I can't say," he says.
"I bet you can't. . . If you told me you'd have to kill me?"

He laughs. Sort of.

"I bet you've seen some shit, huh?" 
"Dude, you don't even know!"
"I can't even imagine."

Right about then the f'real machine in the back of the store kicks on, making a loud humming noise as it begins its nightly self-maintenance cycle. He looks towards it.

"What's that?" he asks.
"I think the bullshit meter just went off," I reply.

Another awkward pause.

"Dude, you don't have to believe me."
"I don't."
"Fuck you dude, I'd like to see you try doing what I've done."
"Did Brian Williams cover your unit and see some action with you?" .
"Who?"
"When is the Marine Corps birthday?" 
"Huh? Dude, I had more important things to worry about than birthday parties."
"I see. Can you tell me what Marine won five Navy Crosses?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asks. "What do you know about the Marine Corps?"
"Not much," I say. "I'm trying to learn; that's why I'm asking."
"I told you, dude, I can't talk about it, okay?

He buys a pack of Camel Filters and heads out the hatch (a mere door to him).

Semper fi! 

Super Bowl Hangover: What a Difference a Yard Makes

Post Super Bowl: When all we couch potatoes get to second guess and redicule a man who, during the past 42 years, has coached for six college and five NFL teams and has won an Orange Bowl, two national college championships and a Super Bowl.

This year, Seattle Seahawks coach Pete Carroll took his team to their second Super Bowl in a row. Last year they routed the Denver Broncos; this year they lost to the New England Patriots.

Barely.

For those who missed a spectacular ending here's a summary:  Down by only four points, 20 seconds left in the game, Seattle is less than one yard from a touchdown that would win them their second Super Bowl championship in a row. Instead of giving the ball to the "Beast Mode" Marshawn Lynch, arguably the best running back in the galaxy, according to some, Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson passes to Seattle wide receiver Chris Matthews but it is intercepted by New England cornerback Malcom Butler. Patriots win, 28-24.

Why? Why did Seattle pass instead of run? It seems to be the question of the century. Pete Carroll took full responsibility.

"He's a moron," one grossly overweight drunken custumor told me. "He should be fired."

With the closest NFL teams from Missoula being Denver (896.8 miles) and Seattle (476.5 miles) we seem to have a lot of Seahawks fans in town. Apparently it's a tribe with a large territory.  A lot of them showed up at the store last night. Some were drunk. Some were sad. Some were angry. A few were insanely livid.

"New England cheated."
"The game was rigged."

"Do you think they could keep everyone involved silent if they rigged and fixed the Super Bowl?" I asked a custumor. "How could they do that?"
"Money talks, dude," he said. "New England's coach is friends with the NFL commissioner and Tom Brady's their special pretty boy . . . they let them win; they fixed it."
"But Russell Wilson has God on his side," I reply, "Is the NFL commissioner more powerful than God?
"Fuck yes," he says. "They got money, dude. I have no doubt it was fixed."

Another drunk customer was downright seething. "The most fucked up call in the history of football," he said. "What a fucking idiot." (I presume he meant Pete Carroll.) "Why . . . Why would anyone be so stupid? Why didn't they give it to Marshawn?"
"He was likely trying to fool New England," I replied. "The element of surprise. Catch them off guard, do what they least expect. The Patriots have a pretty solid goal-line defense and were probably expecting them to give it to Marshawn. They probably would have stopped him. If the pass would have worked, everyone would consider it brilliant."
"Oh bullshit," the guy said. "Nobody stops Marshawn. It was fucking stupid. What are you, a football coach now?"
"No," I said, "But Pete Carroll is."
"He's an asshole," the guy said. "A big fucking asshole."

Super Sunday Holiday: The Glorious Crusade on the Gridiron

Super Bowl Sunday! It may as well be a national holiday. It already seems as big, holy and commercialized as Christmas, and there’s no wars that I know over its name – although the truly devout do, indeed, quibble over doctrine; which divine sect to  align with in the Jihad: Russell Wilson or Tom Brady? Seahawks or Patriots? The Legion of Doom or the Homeland Defense?

More importantly: Which commercials will be best? Which commercials will be offensive? Does the snarling wolf in Budweiser's Lost Puppy ad present a false and negative image of wolves? Will Katy Perry stage an inappropriate wardrobe malfunction? Will the media find a new and unique angle for a Super Bowl story that has not already been thoroughly covered in excruciating detail? Will Deflate-gate lead to the fall of an empire? Will a player say something like "You mad bro?" that will be immortalized in memes forever? Will Brady and Belichick reach legendary heights or will a new dynasty of saviors arise?

Which owners will move from the millionaire bracket to the billionaire bracket? Which players will receive $100,000 bonuses?  If the Seahawks prevail will Russell Wilson's meager $817,302 salary soon match Tom Brady's $14.8 million?  With the commissioner of the National Football League, Rodger Goodall, making $44.2 million and the League raking in about $9.5 billion a year will the NFL maintain its nonprofit, tax-exempt status? 

Which team will God side with?

Many of the customers coming into the store last night were stocking up on beer and chips in preparation for the imminent, glorious crusade on the gridiron. Most wore Seahawk hats, shirts or sweatshirts, some wore Patriots merchandise -- all proudly displaying their faith and denominational allegiance.

"A Seattle fan, hey? How do you think they'll do tomorrow?" I'd ask while ringing folks up. Or, "Go Pats, hey? Think they'll pull it off?" 

Various answers: 

"My team's gonna kick ass!"
"Russell is my man!"
"Tom Brady is unstoppable"
"Brady ain't getting through the Legion of Doom!"
"The Patriots cheat."
"Seahawks got it made if Brady don't deflate his footballs."
"Seahawks suck."
"Patriots suck."
"My team's going all the way!"

Soon after the bars closed a heavy-set guy in a Seahawks hoodie came in kind of drunk. 

"Dude, Seattle has the defense, and it's defense that wins games," he said.
"But can't offense win games?" I ask.
"No, dude, it's defense that wins."
"But what if a good offense overcomes the defense, then won't the offense win?"
"Not if the defense stops them, dude . . . it's defense that wins games."
"So defense wins. I will remember that," I say.
"Exactly dude!"
"Thanks."
"Your welcome. It's advice my coach used to tell us."

He told me all about his high school football career when he helped lead the Sentinel Spartans to victory against the Hellgate Knights.

"Coach was right," he said. "We had a hell of a defense, dude, and we won."
"Congratulations," I say. "Sounds like you had an insightful coach."
"Hell yeah," he replies.

I played guard in high school, I tell him. We were pegged the "Cinderella Team" because we had a long winning streak and advanced to the championship after losing our first three games.

"You know what my coach used to tell us?" I ask.
"What?"
"He used to say, 'The team that puts the most points on the scoreboard is the team that will win the game,'" I tell him.

He thinks about it for a moment.

"Dude, that is so totally true!"
"Indeed. Apparently we both had insightful coaches."

He high-fives me before he leaves.

"Happy Superbowl Sunday," I say. "I'll be keeping my eye on Tom Brady's balls!"