Sir, No Way, Sir!
This job sure has a funky definition of being 'productive'. Spent an isolated week on basic training camp. While rather expecting it, we got none of such witty drill sergeant dialogue. Mostly it was good physical fun (which I'm currently lack of).
Having equipped with a set of drab green uniform, a pair of jackboot, some basic marching skill, and spent nightly perfecting mastery on variation of card games (though still failed miserably on 'speed' game), perhaps I should consider a side career as a local neighborhood security. Wonder how well a wedding reception ceremony will pay..;
Sgt. HARTMAN: I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your Senior Drill Instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be "Sir!" Do you m*ggots understand that?
RECRUITS (in unison): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.
RECRUITS (louder): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training... you will be a weapon, you will be a minister of death, praying for war. But until that day you are pukes! You're the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human f*cking beings! You are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of amphibian sh*t! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here! I do not look down on nigg*rs, k*kes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless! And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps! Do you m*ggots understand that?
RECRUITS (in unison): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! I can't hear you!
RECRUITS (louder): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: What's your name, sc*mbag?
Pvt. Brown (shouting): Sir, Private Brown, sir!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! From now on you're Private Snowball! Do you like that name?
Pvt. Snowball (shouting): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: You! why did you join my beloved Corps?
Pvt. Joker: Sir, to kill, sir!
HARTMAN: So you're a killer!
Pvt. Joker: Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: Let me see your war face!
Pvt. Joker: Sir?
HARTMAN: You've got a war face? Aaaaaaaagh! That's a war face. Now let me see your war face!
Pvt. Joker: Aaaaaaaagh!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! You didn't convince me! Let me see your real war face!
Pvt. Joker (grimmacing): Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
HARTMAN: You didn't scare me! Work on it!
Pvt. Joker: Sir, yes, sir!
RECRUITS (in unison): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.
RECRUITS (louder): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training... you will be a weapon, you will be a minister of death, praying for war. But until that day you are pukes! You're the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human f*cking beings! You are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of amphibian sh*t! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here! I do not look down on nigg*rs, k*kes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless! And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps! Do you m*ggots understand that?
RECRUITS (in unison): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! I can't hear you!
RECRUITS (louder): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: What's your name, sc*mbag?
Pvt. Brown (shouting): Sir, Private Brown, sir!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! From now on you're Private Snowball! Do you like that name?
Pvt. Snowball (shouting): Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: You! why did you join my beloved Corps?
Pvt. Joker: Sir, to kill, sir!
HARTMAN: So you're a killer!
Pvt. Joker: Sir, yes, sir!
HARTMAN: Let me see your war face!
Pvt. Joker: Sir?
HARTMAN: You've got a war face? Aaaaaaaagh! That's a war face. Now let me see your war face!
Pvt. Joker: Aaaaaaaagh!
HARTMAN: Bullsh*t! You didn't convince me! Let me see your real war face!
Pvt. Joker (grimmacing): Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
HARTMAN: You didn't scare me! Work on it!
Pvt. Joker: Sir, yes, sir!
( Full Metal Jacket, Stanley Kubrick, 1987 )
This job sure has a funky definition of being 'productive'. Spent an isolated week on basic training camp. While rather expecting it, we got none of such witty drill sergeant dialogue. Mostly it was good physical fun (which I'm currently lack of). Having equipped with a set of drab green uniform, a pair of jackboot, some basic marching skill, and spent nightly perfecting mastery on variation of card games (though still failed miserably on 'speed' game), perhaps I should consider a side career as a local neighborhood security. Wonder how well a wedding reception ceremony will pay..;
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