Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Public Affairs.
I wasn’t expecting to meet so early this morning, but some poor woman in Europe is complaining she’s been conned out of money by Nigerian Romance Scammers who are impersonating the commanding general again. Looks like yet another public affairs emergency! How these women are dumb enough to fall for Nigerian romance scams, yet smart enough to find the number to the headquarters is beyond me. But that’s why I make the big bucks.
Let’s see what’s on the public affairs schedule this morning. Ah yes, ISOPREP pictures for a deploying infantry brigade. Nothing puts the public in public affairs quite like a few mugshots that stay hidden away on the SIPRNET. Your average infantryman spends the entire weekend taking pictures of his dick, but when it comes time to actually do something useful with a camera, suddenly he’s incompetent.
After that, it’ll be event driven, my dear vodka. Answering phone calls about chemtrails, Jade Helm, and the impending UN invasion. I’ll never understand why the general public thinks the US government is omniscient and omnipotent, especially after seeing the dumb fucks I work with here.
After lunch I have a lot of work planned, but I’ll probably have to scratch it all because Lt. Col. Sinclair can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants or because a some idiots published a regulation saying it’s okay to call African Americans “negroes.”
Christ, there are three million people in our Armed Forces, and every one of them is hell-bent on ruining my day.
Following that, I’ve got to tell the media what a great plan we have in Iraq. Not the general with the brilliant plan. Oh, no, he golfs while I’ve got to put lipstick on the pig that is Operation Inherent Clusterfuck.
At least there are great job opportunities out there for PAOs. Admiral Kirby just got a job at the State Department making less money for answering the same idiotic questions … only with different talking points. I wonder if that was really water in his glass?
I hear Jen Psaki and Marie Harf left a bottle of vodka for him in the drawer. He’ll need it.
The author was last seen complaining about his predicament to his 3,000 Facebook friends.