Blue Angels Attack White House, Flee Military Custody [satire]

WASHINGTON, DC – Tragedy struck our nation’s capital today as the White House was bombed by fighter-attack aircraft assigned to the U.S. Navy Flight Demonstration Squadron, also known as the Blue Angels. The Department of Defense, The Navy, and the White House Press Secretary described it as a horrific accident, the worst case of friendly fire in United States history.

“It was supposed to be a routine flyover,” said Blue Angels Public Affairs Officer Lt. Katie Kelly. “We just wanted to show our Commander-in-Chief there were no hard feelings after he grounded us, and all.” When asked why the aircraft were carrying live ordnance, Kelly said, “We’re looking into that. Obviously, somebody really shit the bed on this one. Heads are gonna roll.”

But audio recordings of cockpit radio transmissions told an entirely different story. The chilling words speak for themselves.

“Sequester that, motherfucker! … Hoo-yah! Let’s see your birth certificate now! … Hey, asshole: Does Kenya have any bomb shelters? … White power!”

Fortunately for America and the Free World, President Barack Obama was vacationing at Camp David with the First Lady and their children during the incident. The West Wing suffered extensive damage and several housekeeping employees were killed, but no one of any importance was harmed. Since the deceased were all illegal aliens, their true identities could not be determined at press time.

Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck took to the airwaves and lauded the Blue Angels for their valiant effort to annihilate a petty tyrant and the greatest threat to freedom facing America today. Limbaugh blasted the federal government for frittering away money on health care for disabled war veterans instead of squandering it on pointless aerobatic displays that waste logistical resources just to impress a bunch of yokels. Beck went even further. Broadcasting underway aboard his boomer submarine, he threatened to rain down hellfire and devastation upon Washington, San Francisco, Boston, New York, and other Communist strongholds if jack-booted government thugs so much as laid a finger on any member of the Flight Demonstration Squadron.

Speaking at a hastily-assembled press conference, Arizona Republican Senator Capt. John McCain, USN (ret.), scoffed at conspiracy theories the Blue Angels were retaliating for President Obama’s canceling their airshow schedule due to sequestration. “This was clearly a mistake,” said Sen. McCain. “U.S. Navy pilots are the best-trained, most loyal sailors in the world. I know, I was one myself.” Then he winked at Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Jonathan Greenert and mouthed the words, “Bravo Zulu.”

Disregarding repeated orders from Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel to land their aircraft at Naval Air Station Oceana and surrender themselves to military authorities, Blue Angels Commanding Officer Cmdr. Thomas Frosch led his flight into international waters and trapped aboard the flight deck of Rupert Murdoch’s private aircraft carrier, the SS Fuck You, Pay Me. Fox News carried live coverage of the event. “Fat Albert,” the team’s C-130T Hercules transport aircraft operated by a Marine aircrew in a pathetic attempt to make the Corps seem relevant, ditched alongside the Fuck You, Pay Me. Rescue crews recovered the floundering Marines, along with Flight Surgeon Lt. Cmdr. Mark DeBuse, MC, and the team’s maintenance, supply, and administrative support personnel, while Academi snipers kept the sharks at bay. There were no losses, except for an MSNBC News helicopter that was shot down by a CWIS when it wandered into Murdoch’s private airspace. Murdoch reportedly chuckled when told and said, “Collateral damage. Happens in every war.”

After signing autographs and posing for pictures with fans, the Blue Angels were the guests of honor at a celebratory feast held in the captain’s mess, where they were feted by such notable luminaries as Bill O’Reilly, Sean Hannity, Greta Van Susteren, and some douche bag calling himself Greg Gutfeld. Ann Coulter volunteered to let all the naval aviators violate every orifice in her body, but there were no takers.
“We haven’t been at sea that long,” said Frosch.

Battle Stations 21 Training So Realistic, Recruits Diagnosed With PTSD [satire]

GREAT LAKES, IL – Here at the “Quarterdeck of the Navy,” where deranged, sadistic Recruit Division Commanders (RDCs) turn civilians into sailors, the psychiatric ward of Naval Hospital Great Lakes is filled to maximum capacity with PTSD patients. But these are not salty combat veterans; they are raw recruits whose minds have been shattered by the unimaginable horrors of simulated warfare.

“I thought I’d seen it all, but this is worse than anything we’ve ever dealt with before,” said Hospital Corpsman 1st Class Mike Hunt, Leading Petty Officer for an elite rapid-response counseling detachment deployed overnight to manage the crisis. “Christ, they’re just kids.” Hunt’s hands shook as he sipped his coffee. “I blame that, that thing in Building 7260. It’s a monster.”

Building 7260 is home port for the USS Trayer (BST-21), often referred to as the “unluckiest ship in the Navy” because it gets attacked every week. The Trayer is a high-tech combat simulator that is the cornerstone of Battle Stations, the final training evolution in boot camp. Recruits must pass this grueling test of physical and mental endurance if they want to earn the coveted title of United States sailor and piss away the next four years of their lives sacrificing their health and sanity performing menial labor for shitty pay. No expense was spared to make the bogus sea battle seem as authentic as possible. Division Officer Lt. Dan Levinson gave a stirring speech and recited the Navy’s core values. The recruits of Division 263 responded with a spirited cry of “Hoo-yah!” When the booters crossed the brow and boarded the Trayer, none of them realized they were about to experience, as one recruit put it, “twelve hours of hell inside a crack pipe. You feeling me, brah?”

After heavy sedation, the few survivors who could still speak in coherent sentences told their harrowing tale.

“It was like, totally graphic,” said Seaman Recruit Mandi Covington. “Those casualty dummies were all covered in fake blood and guts. I had to help carry this stretcher. It was ultra heavy. Seriously! My arms are still sore.”

“It was all good when we pretended to get underway,” said Seaman Recruit Luis Garcia while sipping a Thorazine smoothie, his eyes like black holes. “I was standing watch on the bridge, and shit, when all of a sudden we got broadsided by a phony missile. I could feel the deck shaking under my feet. Yo, I bet those subwoofers would really rattle the windows in my Impala.”

Seaman Recruit Jamal Thibodeaux could barely speak, his lungs scarred by artificial smoke inhalation. “I couldn’t see shit through all the smoke, dog,” he gasped. “That compartment hatch was hotter than a motherfucker. After my face mask fogged up and I got separated from the rest of my team, I thought I was tits up. Know what I’m saying? Thank God the instructors medevaced me ASAP.”

Seaman Recruit Tony Santoro gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white, and shivered. “Dude! I had to hump practice rounds out of a burning ammo magazine. I just knew those inert 5-inch shells were gonna cook off in my hands. I was scared shitless.”

Despite hourly tranquilizer injections, Seaman Recruit Amber Chang still had the thousand-yard stare. “I was running all over the place with my sea bag strapped on my back,” she said. “We didn’t sleep all night. I slipped on the obstacle course and skinned my knee. Shit hurt.”

One recruit from the Damage Control party remained catatonic after sliding off a bulkhead brace in a flooded machinery space. He was submerged for three terrifying seconds before an instructor pulled him to safety and immediately rendered first aid.

Gunner’s Mate 1st Class Kenny Grindstaff, Division 263 RDC, said, “They’re just butt-hurt on account of sleep deprivation. Kids today are such pussies. If we don’t toughen ’em up now, what the fuck’s gonna happen when they hit the Fleet and some sea dog starts tearing ’em a new asshole for putting their hands in their pockets? They’ll wish they had stress cards then, I shit you not.”

Cpt. John Dye, Commanding Officer of Recruit Training Command Great Lakes, dismissed allegations the evolution was too intense. “It’s designed to be tough,” he said. “The Navy’s no place for chickenshits. In boot camp we have to cull the strong from the weak. Or something.”

Although their military careers were over before they had even begun, the recruits of Division 263 have been assured they all qualified for medical separations and disability pay. Most of them cheered and slapped palms, but a few were distraught by the news.

“Kinda sucks I’ve only been in the Navy for like, two months, and I’m already getting discharged, you know?” said Covington, brushing away a tear. “But at least I can hold my head high when I tell people I served my country with honor, and stuff. Am I right?”

Marines Add ‘Dick Move’ To Martial Arts Program [satire]

QUANTICO, VA – Marine Corps Combat Development Command issued a new directive effective immediately. Always eager for a photo op, the Marine Corps held a press conference to impress civilians and potential recruits with steaming piles of bullshit.

“Not only is the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program an essential tool in our warfighting kit,” said Commanding Officer Lt. Gen. Richard Mills, “it proves our dick’s bigger than the Army’s and the Navy’s. I won’t even mention the Chair Farce, since we all know they have sandy vaginas. I mean, right? Having said that, I’m proud to announce the latest, most effective weapon in our arsenal: the Dick Move. Let’s see what those Army pukes have to say about that.”

“Mastering the art of the Dick Move is vital for any Marine who wants to move up in rank,” said Gunnery Sergeant Miguel Diaz, a brown belt Martial Arts Instructor and staff advisor. “It’s a very versatile technique. Whether it’s cockblocking your homey at the single’s bar, or throwing your buddy under the bus to score brownie points with the Command Sergeant Major, or hazing the non-rates, or borrowing money and never paying it back, or playing bullshit fuck-fuck games, or making junior personnel do police call just to be a dick, or plowing your best friend’s girl while he’s on deployment, every Marine must be proficient at the Dick Move if he ever hopes to become a staff non-commissioned officer. Well, that and suck a mile of dicks. So now it’s required professional development for all career-oriented personnel, unless they want to be up-or-outed. We have extremely high standards. That’s why the Marine Corps offers a full spectrum of combat capabilities none of those other pussy services can deliver, like, like, uh …”

“This is a significant day for the Marine Corps, the United States of America, and the Free World – in that order,” said Mills. “We Marines take warfare very seriously, and this just goes to show you once again we’re way better than everybody else. Just ask any of my boys and they’ll agree – or it’s their ass.”

“This new program shouldn’t take long to implement,” said Diaz. “Most junior Marines are already familiar with the basic strategy of the Dick Move, having been on the receiving end of it so many times. And being able to dish it out for a change will improve their confidence and encourage them to fuck their subordinates even harder. That’s exactly what we want. Train like you fight, fight like you train.”

Commandant of the Marine Corps Gen. James Amos said, “This’ll give us a big leg up on the enemy, whoever they are this week. To commemorate this milestone in U.S. Marine Corps history, it’s my honor and privilege to unveil a new warfare pin for Marines who’ve perfected the Dick Move. They’ll be available for purchase online and in Fleet uniform shops whenever Supply gets around to it.”

Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps Michael Barrett stepped forward and displayed a prototype of the pin: a blue falcon with clipped wings and a blood-smeared dagger gripped in its claws, shitting on an eagle, globe, and anchor.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said.