On All Hollows Eve, October 31, 2024, the U.S. military held its 249th annual Sorting Cover ceremony to sort this year's recruits into their respective branches. Young men and women of varying ages (but none older than 42) gathered together as Gen. Charles Q. Brown, Jr. brought out a patched, frayed, and dirty tricorn hat, which slowly began to sing.
Oh, you may not think I’m useful,
But don’t judge me on what you see,
I’ll squash myself if you can find,
A recruiter smarter than me.
You can keep your combat helmets black,
Your parade hats sleek and tall,
For I am the U.S. Military’s Sorting Cover,
And I can beat them all.
There’s nothing hidden in your head,
The Sorting Cover can’t see,
So place me on and I will tell you,
Which branch you ought to be.
You might belong in Army,
Where grunt work is an art,
Their murder and harassment rates,
Set Army soldiers apart.
You might belong in Navy,
Where they are tattooed and hotter,
Those drunken sailors are fun st sea,
But stuck painting ships in harbor.
Or in wise old Air Force,
If you’ve a quick mind,
Where those of wit and shamming,
Will serve comfortably their entire time.
Or perhaps in Marines,
If back pain is your call,
Those fuckers jerk off constantly,
And draw dicks on every wall.
If I look in your head and see nothing,
You know just the place you’ll be,
You belong in Space Force,
Because it is imaginary.
After the song, embittered Pfc. Severus Snape, busted down in rank for the third time, called each recruit forward and placed the Sorting Cover on their head.
As recruit H. Potter was called forward, he was heard muttering, “Not Marines, not Marines.”
