KANDAHAR, Afghanistan — An Afghan bodyguard seems like “a real straight-shooter,” sources reported today, adding that the professional guardian’s steely-eyed, thousand-yard stare brings a tide of warmth and comfort to the officials he protects.

Khalil Rahmati, a Kandahar native, was recently appointed to the security detail of Lt. Gen. Omar Abboud, a critical figure in the stability of Kandahar province who is entrusted with safeguarding Afghan and U.S. interests against the Taliban. Rahmati is Kandahar’s local Top Shot champion and holds the national record for shooting the most targets in the back in a one-minute period.

“Allah, what blessings to have such an eagle-eyed warrior in my personal guard,” said Abboud, successor to Gen. Abdul Razeq.

Razeq, a highly-respected and effective commander, was assassinated by his own bodyguard on Thursday.

Rahmati’s U.S. counterparts have also lauded his professionalism and, in particular, his marksmanship abilities.

“He’s basically the perfect soldier,” said Lt. Gen. Austin Miller, who survived the insider attack that killed Razeq and a high-ranking intelligence officer.

“If he were in the [U.S.] Army, Rahmati would certainly promote to sergeant with marksmanship scores like his,” added Sgt. 1st Class Chad Henry, deployed with the 1st Security Force Assistance Brigade. “Now, does that mean that I trust him with my life?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

CORONADO, Calif. – A local Navy SEAL has found himself in hot water with others in the special warfare community after he passed a recent drug test, officials confirmed today.

Chief Petty Officer Special Warfare Operator Kyle McCleary, a 15-year veteran of the SEALs, was ordered to take the urinalysis as part of a Navy-wide crackdown on non-drug-usage in the teams.

The news of McCleary’s exclusion from team activities comes two weeks after officials revealed that 10 SEALs had successfully failed drug tests with an excellent showing of cocaine and methamphetamine in their systems.

“Those guys were winners. They know what it means to be a teammate — not McCleary, though,” said SEAL Petty Officer 1st Class Nathan Murphy. “He doesn’t belong anymore. A good SEAL always has at least some weed in his system. Hit the pipe or hit the road.”

Navy officials allowed Duffel Blog a peek into the world of the SEAL community with an invitation to spend off-duty hours with the SEALs. Reporters discovered a lot of shirtless flexing, hacky sack circles and parties with drugs. “Lots and lots of drugs,” one reporter wrote in a notebook.

SEALs — with their high operational tempo — understandably need a distraction during their off-duty activities. While most operators in other branches turn to exercise and chugging Red Bull to keep themselves busy, SEALs prefer cocaine, which is readily available when stationed near Mexico.

McCleary has opted out, however, choosing to stay away from activities that would put his trident at risk. His teammates believe it’s a mistake and acknowledge that he will be held accountable for “just saying no.”

“C’mon, what’s so hard about doing a little bump here and there?” asked Petty Officer 2nd Class Jason Toon, an East Coast-based SEAL with a faint coke ring around his right nostril. “All McCleary has to do is get with the program. Say, ‘Man, you got a razor blade I can borrow?'”

McCleary’s reputation within the SEAL community began to suffer years ago when he made the decision to eat healthy and drink only water. Despite his desire to be seen as a team player, McCleary was not willing to poison his body with horrible substances.

“Everyone’s doing it. It’s easy and convenient to pop down to Tijuana, score a little deca durabolin and report back Monday,” BUD/S instructor Todd Fuller said as he jabbed a needle into his left buttock. “Hell, popping positive is mandatory the last week of BUD/S. Otherwise, you simply don’t get into the teams at all.”

Rear Adm. Collin P. Green, commander of Naval Special Warfare Command, was asked during a press conference about McCleary’s failure to adhere to the highest traditions of the teams and Naval service by failing to get just a little bit high.

“I’m sorry. The surf is really loud this morning. I’m having a hard time hearing. Have a great day. Thanks,” said Green, before quickly excusing himself.

BOSTON — Massachusetts Democratic Sen. Dickard Rosenthal has released the results of genetic testing to add legitimacy to his claim that he is “basically a veteran” and “should be treated as such”.

The DNA test shows that he has a distant grandparent that may have possibly fought in the Thirty Years War, the French Revolution, or was a member of a Mongol horde terrorizing eastern Europe in the 13th century, Roesnthal said in a press release and a subsequent CNN-sponsored town hall event.

“I am proud to show the American people, and especially Donald Trump, that I am indeed pretty much a veteran, and the sacrifices on behalf of my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great (possibly) grandMOTHER’s (sic) service, between 300 and 1000 years ago, should not go unrecognized, or unrewarded,” Rosenthal’s press release reads.

“I am proud to possibly be tangentially related to someone who may have served something somewhere,” he added.

Rosenthal, a progressive firebrand widely considered to be a front-runner in the Democratic Party for the 2020 presidential primary, has faced repeated criticism for his decades-old claim of veteran status.

Records indicate the senator used his claim to be a veteran as a means to gain crucial status within a minority group as he applied to prestigious positions at Ivy League institutions and subsequently in his successful Senate run.

“Frankly, my previously uncorroborated claims were all I needed to be a veteran. But with this DNA test, I can now conclusively say I am distantly related to a veteran, which is basically the same as being one. It is now the responsibility of Donald Trump and his Republican allies to prove that I am not,” Rosenthal said.

Blondes Over Baghdad contributed to this report.

Image courtesy of the Department of Defense.

FORT LEONARD WOOD, Mo. – Army Sgt. Pennyworth Montgomery’s notably complex steampunk top hat sprung a class III leak in the middle of morning formation, sources confirmed today.

“I noticed it immediately,” said Spc. Christie Jones. “One moment the steam whistle puffed away gentle bursts of vapor to release pressure. In the next, there was clear drop formation — each of which fell from their own weight.”

Having escaped Montgomery’s notice, the leak worsened due to the internal pressure generated by the boiler apparatus held within the hat’s large stovepipe structure. This caused a torrent of scalding water to spray over the faces of two privates standing adjacent to Montgomery.

“Arrghhh!!!” screamed Spc. Michael Johnson as doctors treated him at the local burn unit. “Who even lets him wear that stupid thing?!”

The military police sergeant said an internal problem caused the top hat to send boiling water shooting on the privates who he expected to hold the position of attention.

“Well, I think the problem arose when the 25 tooth brass gear misaligned with those around it. This caused the hat’s internal dampening system to overfill with steam pressure,” Montgomery said while wearing a purple tented set of welding goggles.

“This sent a gust of steam through the incorrect piping and into a glass reservoir directly underneath the series of Edison bulbs I have attached around the top to indicate ambient air temperature and atmospheric pressure,” he continued after adjusting a few external lenses over his left eye and checking an ornate brass pocket watch.

Montgomery then opened an umbrella with a loud, “Cheerio!” and floated into the sky towards the dirigible he had moored to a light pole at the barracks parking lot.

PHUKET, Thailand — Sexually transmitted diseases have been racing to nearby clinics to get checked for sailors in an effort to curb a spate of recent outbreaks, sources confirmed today.

The outbreaks come after a group of U.S. Navy ships made a stop at a port in Thailand and released sailors out into the public, a move the local population views as nothing short of biological warfare.

“With no regard for public safety, the commanders saw fit to unleash a swarm of sailors out into the open air, knowing full well that they can easily spread,” said Bobby Khachatryan, a public health practitioner. “Have they no idea what sort of social stigmas STDs encounter when they catch a case of the squids?”

Local sexually transmitted diseases are canvassing the area, looking for fellow maladies who might have unwittingly come in contact with a sailor.

“You can never be too safe or get tested too early,” said a batch of chlamydia. “You don’t want any sailors sneaking up on you. They are nasty, fat and lazy — just gross. It’s also super embarrassing when others find out that you’ve contracted sailors.”

Reported cases of sailors had dwindled prior to the arrival of the ships. Public officials attributed the decline to sailor awareness, sailor prevention, and sailor avoidance.

“It seems the time of plummeting sailor cases is at an end,” Khachatryan said. “Now, we are in reactive mode, and the STDs have to be treated with medication and ointments while we try to contain the sailor outbreak. The public healthcare system is currently overburdened as most STDs are making a dash to the pecker-checker to get swabbed for ‘swabbies.’”

Not everyone is panicking, however. Gonorrhea, a local sexually transmitted infection, welcomes the sailors with arms wide open.

“I caught a grand total of four sailors back in the fifties. They aren’t anything to worry about, really – some squirting and oozing. They are nothing a good dose of penicillin can’t tackle,” gonorrhea said proudly. “Bring those men and women on!”

The following is an excerpt from the personal journal of Lt. Gen. William Yarbrough (1912-2013), reprinted by Duffel Blog with permission from the Green Beret Association.

So here it was, June of 1998, and the Pentagon made the decision that they wanted all the Army Special Operations components under one unit umbrella. They had pretty much everything figured out except what to call the new parent command. So Eric [Shinseki], who was about to take over as chief of staff, called me up and asked me for ideas on a name.

Now, during Vietnam, Green Berets would be out doing things in the middle of nowhere, and they’d have absolutely no supplies to speak of.

Guys would be complaining that they had to do their business out there in the jungle but didn’t have anything to wipe with. The team commanders would be constantly telling people “use a sock.” Or when guys would need to take care of themselves, if you know what I mean, but there was no tissue paper handy? “Use a sock.”

Seriously, socks were easier to get than toilet paper. I still don’t know why. Guys within the Special Forces community started saying “use a sock” for literally everything. It got to the point where it almost became an institutional joke motto, sort of like “Wagner loves the cock” for the Marines.

So now here it is, I’d been retired for almost thirty years, when out of the blue I get a phone call from Eric, and he asks me to come up with an idea for a name for this new major command.

Without even thinking, I blurted out, “Use a sock.” It was just an offhand joke. I never meant for him to take it seriously. But he ran with it, and sure enough, a year and a half later, there he is, announcing the formation of USASOC (U.S. Army Special Operations Command).

I never had the heart to tell him. He’d probably be really embarrassed.

ARLINGTON, Va. — Officials at the Pentagon have expressed concerns that plunging morale among American service members may be affecting service member morale, sources revealed today.

“We at the Department of Defense are deeply worried that the growing apathy of America’s war fighters may have a negative impact on America’s ability to fight wars,” said Pentagon spokesperson Maj. Ed Marquand.

“Though we are at present unsure of the exact root of the growing malaise, our researchers suspect that it may have something to do with almost two decades of perpetual conflict, a gradual decline in America’s international prestige, or endemic inefficiency across the military industrial complex.”

While the Pentagon’s recognition of this growing problem strikes many Americans as a step in the right direction, it remains unclear what actions the Pentagon will take to rectify the issue.

“We are currently exploring a number of possible solutions to increase the job satisfaction of our soldiers, sailors, Marines, and airmen,” Marquand said. “Currently, we suspect that if we find a way to make living more bearable for our military personnel, they may actually begin to enjoy being alive. Experiments conducted on laboratory animals and members of the Coast Guard support this theory.”

However, despite the Pentagon’s announcement, there are some across the military who disagree with any attempt to improve the the happiness of military members.

“Morale is a crutch,” an anonymous colonel stated in a recent suicide letter.

Nevertheless, many service members remain skeptical that conditions will improve anytime soon.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Lance Cpl. Marcus Strudelmeier of 7th Marine Regiment. “If Maj. Whatshisnuts thinks a little press conference will keep me from doing cough syrup jello shots in a desperate attempt to shuffle off this mortal coil, stand the fuck by.”

As of press time, Pentagon researchers were attempting to link overwhelming depression among E-5s and below with poor barracks Wi-Fi.

CAMP LEJEUNE, N.C. – If anyone is reading this, I am locked in the bathroom of the gym closest to headquarters. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but every Marine in this place suddenly just started raging the fuck out, and I’m afraid for my life.

I was pretty sure half these guys were on steroids to begin with, but it had never been a problem before. Today, though, whichever idiot runs this gym put a Taylor Swift song on the playlist, and I think that set them off. It wasn’t even a new one, just one of the standard breakup songs. As soon as the speaker blared, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in,” these guys just Went. Fucking. Nuts.

As the growls quickly crescendo’d into full on screams and fits of rage, one guy took a bite out of a barbell like it was a goddamn Otis Spunkmeyer cookie. I wouldn’t have minded him so much if he didn’t immediately turn and gaze longingly at my leg. A lifter and his spotter over in the corner began to froth blood at the mouth and started smashing their heads into the wall mirrors. They only stopped to lovingly pat each other on the ass.

One of the only female officers who comes here went ballistic with the jump rope, garroting a male PFC who made the fatal mistake of turning his back on her for half a second to piss in his buddy’s water bottle. I’m 99 percent sure he’s dead now. One can only assume I’ll join him before long.

I made it out of the weight room mostly intact and limped toward the bathroom. I had to make a detour through the cardio room due to a fire breaking out in the hallway, and sweet Jesus, what I saw there will haunt me for the rest of my life. One swole-ass NCO from supply was mindlessly doing somersaults on a slow-moving treadmill.

My own first sergeant was using two lieutenants’ heads as sandals while plodding along on the elliptical and spitting on any TV which dared to show a World Cup game. A contractor was swinging a full-size punching bag like a massive fucking hot dog of horror at anyone within reach, and I’m fairly certain he’s the one who TKO’d the teenage girl who works at the front counter. She looked like she’d been lying there for a few minutes judging by the drool.

I made it through to the bathroom, finally. First I tried the steam room, but the mist was already a bit too pink for my comfort. I couldn’t hide in my locker since it’d already been pried open and used to store a poor fucking comm nerd from the S-6. Under the sinks was out of the question – somehow all the electric cables had been ripped through the soft ceiling panels and were sparking near the pools of water.

In the end I made it into the only stall without a limp body in it, which I’m now sharing with the janitor. I’d feel better if he wasn’t side-eyeing me and gripping his mop handle menacingly.

Seriously, if anyone out there is reading this, please send help.