YOUR HEADQUARTERS — Praise all God or gods that may be, because lo and behold, there is a briefer to read literally every single word on the powerpoint slides. Even better, he’s not expounding or elaborating at all. Just a droning monotone, bullet point by remorseless bullet point, and you’re incredibly lucky to be here to have it ejaculated into your ear holes.
Let’s face it: you’re far too stupid to just read the slides on your own and absorb the relevant information. You can’t be trusted to educate yourself on this topic, even though you somehow managed to dress yourself without pooping in your pants this morning.
This training brief, after all, was mandated by an officer with stars on his collar. Who the fuck do you think you even are, shitbag, to question the applicability of this esoteric bullshit? What’s that? You’re a decorated combat veteran? You know what that and a buck fifty will buy you? A shitty chai latte from Green Bean, that’s what. Now tell your story walking, cockface.
Or no, actually, tell your story silently, to yourself, while you sit there and pretend to pay attention to this periodic mandatory training. Which, I remind you, is being expertly administered like a sweet, sweet morphine drip overseen by a masked, faceless Nazi doctor.
You can’t get training like this in the corporate world. Those office drones aren’t worried about basic military values like accountability and duty. They just worry about politics and the bottom line, unlike our leaders up at the Pentagon. And in academia? Forget about it. You’d be lucky to even make it to your classroom through all the pantywaste trust fund (or even worse, scholarship!) brats protesting the latest outrage and demanding a “safe space” to protect them from Real Life.
And let’s not even explore the possibility that this topic is meaningless and stupid in an organization which, to be honest, is dedicated (at least in theory) to the process of hunting down and killing motherfuckers. Just a box check so some senior leader can cover his ass in the event that you decide to do something stupid? I say thee: Nay!
So you are supremely and efficiently grateful for the opportunity — the privilege! — to sit in your stained chair in this condemned annex behind Battalion this morning. You are indeed indebted to ol’ Uncle Sam (or Aunt Samantha, depending on how you self-identify, no judging here!) for this great subject matter, which is much more important than, you know, training to kill the enemy.
And by all that is sacred, you are utterly beside yourself with joy that the brief is being rendered upon you in a mechanic, unfeeling, machinelike monotone. Thank God for that. Thank God.
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