I haven’t devoted nearly enough space to how much he pisses me off. He smells like fucking ass (everyone in the battalion knows who he is because of how he smells), he’s renowned for being a fucking idiot (he talks slow, says “sittin’ there” in between every fourth word, thinks that Obama giving a video Ipod to the Queen of England was done on taxpayer dollars (and even if it was, who the fuck cares? 300 million taxpayers or so equates to each of them paying a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a cent for that video Ipod – there are greater government wastes at work, like his fucking paycheck))…
More than every other phone call he has ends with him yelling and fighting at the person on the other line, he’s constantly bitching about how hard he has it (“I get sick of sittin’ there at the shop for 9 hours, sittin’ there not gettin a break,” meanwhile real Marines are stuck in Afghanistan and Iraq for 24 hours a day in a way shittier situation with way less support and luxuries), continually looking for pity and sympathy from his family and friends while contributing fucking nothing to anybody (and in fact dicking things up at the shop all day). He’s a braggart who over-exaggerates his own contributions (constantly saying things like “I’m basically doing the job of an NCO” when this is nowhere near the case) or hardships (“you just wouldn’t understand how hard it is over here”).
He’s the world’s shittiest communicator, constantly dismissing the feelings of people he’s talking to on the phone (“what do you mean I don’t understand you? I’m sittin here understanding you better than anybody sittin there at home!!”), saying stupid shit (“I’M NOT FUCKING YELLING AT YOU, WHY DON’T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT”), getting mad at other people for his own idiocy (“Durden, why’d you lock the fucking door? I didn’t have my key!”) and on and on.
Seriously, if he were dead, the world would be a better place. For me, anyway.