It’s 0348 in the morning.

The belt of your bootcamp-issued, slightly too-small Alpha pants have dug into your hips over the course of the last 18 hours. You’re tired, your shirt keeps riding up even though you’ve tried desperately to keep it tucked via shirt-stays, the taste in your mouth is stale, your forehead feels greasy, and your undershirt is starting to smell like you’ve been wearing it too long. You wish you could doodle dicks all over the worn-out green book, but the OOD will probably be by any minute now. The last of the drunk Marines in the barracks have finally gone to sleep, or passed out, it doesn’t really matter. The loud music being blasted out of that one Marine’s room who always wants to keep his door open has finally died down, you savor the quiet of the night as you stare blankly at the wall. You have no friends.

You’re on duty.

I think I’ve made it clear through this blog that there are in fact many constants of the Marine Corps, but one of those will always and forever be duty. Like any Marine, when I say “duty”, I’m of course referring to being on 24-hour barracks duty. This usually starts at 0800 in the morning and continues until 0800 the next day, generally there’s supposed to be an NCO and a Lance or below on at any given time (this doesn’t always happen though). The duty’s responsibility is simply being the person working at the barracks at all times. Some battalions may allow the Marines to wear cammies on duty, but it goes back and forth between wearing those or your “chucks”.

Duty sucks, plain and simple. Everyone, however, has to do it at some point or another. It’s one of those uniquely Marine Corps things that just always blows, but no one ever really brings it up to civilians. Why would you? It’s so mundane–by far the most mundane thing you could describe to someone looking for an action story. But duty has its share of fun as well, from being able to screen all of the women that aren’t supposed to be in the barracks to chatting with hardly-sober 18 year olds enjoying their first beer, to helping out one of your friends that fell off the 2nd floor catwalk in a drunken stupor.

Duty is duty, it’s part of the Marine Corps whether you like it or not. We can all agree though:

Duty sucks.

In other news, check out this reader response I posted about Marine Corps haircuts last night. I think I might start posting more emails in the near future, as I get a lot of them and sometimes they’re worth talking about. If you have something funny or interesting you want to email me, feel free to click the contact button at the top of the screen. No pen0r pics though, please. Unless your dick is like… really funny or something… wait… no… just no pics of your junk please.

Also, buy my book.

Carlos asked:

I’ve always wanted my hair to be like Abe’s. What should I tell the barber to do to make it look like Abe’s?

I’ve mentioned before that haircuts are a pretty big deal in the Marine Corps. While haircuts anywhere can greatly determine how people around you perceive your character, the subtleties involved in choosing a Marine haircut are far beyond anything you can imagine as a civilian. The difference between a high-and-tight and a low-reg haircut may seem menial to an outsider, but as a member of this absurd fine organization it can greatly determine the mental perception of how much dick you suck well you perform at your job and possibly even your chances of promotion.

Your choices are limited. Very limited. This is the military after all, this is what you signed up for. They are as follows:

• Bic’d Head (shaved)
• High-and-Tight
• High-Reg
• Medium-Reg
• Low-Reg

That’s it. These are the terms you would tell the barber, as well. All military barbers know these haircuts, it shouldn’t be confusing for them (even if they’re the only English words they understand).

Believe it or not, despite the fact that the shaved head has the least amount of hair, it’s actually not considered “moto”. Really, it’s just a look that this person has decided to go for, often times because they’re balding and trying desperately to hide it. Really, if you’re white, the military is one of the only places it’s considered okay for you to “bic” your head and not be perceived as a skinhead. It’s low-maintenence, great for the field and you can do it yourself to save money on haircuts. This is the haircut you’re required to get when you enlist, as well as the cut of choice for Garcia:

The Bic'd Head

Abe, on the other hand, chooses to rock the coveted “Medium-Reg”.

The Medium-Reg

The medium-reg is my personal favorite of the list. The medium-reg consists of 0-3 inches on top that tapers down to a 0 just above the ear. It allows a bit of freedom on the weekends to style as well as a clean look in uniform. Most people would assume that a Terminal Lance would automatically opt for the low-reg, but it’s always better to be under the radar than on it as a shit-bag.

The low-reg is one I’m not entirely fond of. Not because I have a problem “sticking it to the man” as most people who get this haircut strive to achieve, but because it just looks terrible. The low-reg haircut is basically an extended version of the medium-reg, it extends to the base of the skull but instead of being cornered off or rounded like a civilian cut, it tapers to a 0 in about an inch of space. A common side-effect of this cut is that most people that get it (the kind of people that get it) choose to let their hair also grow to the Marine Corps limit of 3 inches on top (measured precisely with their erect penis issued ID card). The result is usually a laughably ugly mess of too much hair on top with a ridiculous-looking fade in the back. It just looks awful, and frankly looking good is more important to me than taking any kind of rebellious stand.

The “High-Reg” haircut is popular amongst officers and Staff NCO’s. It allows them to have a clean, socially acceptable look while still looking like they give a fuck. It’s basically a high-and-tight that tapers to a 0 just below the crest of the skull, rather than above it (ala the high-and-tight). There is generally no issues with this haircut.

The high-and-tight is the worst of the list. I’m sorry, but it’s a really fucking disgusting haircut. This is the “traditional” haircut of the Marine Corps, not for any real reason but because some asshole–probably a high-ranking one–decided that it was what “real Marines” should get. This haircut is also responsible for the term “Jarhead”, as it makes your head look like a jar of assholes from behind. Nobody gets this haircut because it looks good, they get it because they want the fucking world to know (and know well) that they are a mother-fucking POG, boot United States Marine, ya understand that trash? The only people in the fleet that get this haircut are either the biggest assholes you’ve ever met or boots forced to by their seniors. This is also the traditional boot haircut, so avoid it at all costs.

So, Carlos, to answer your question, Abe rocks a medium-reg, and you should too.

For the rest of you, keep in mind that I read all of the emails I receive. Due to time constraints I can’t really respond to all of them, but if you have something to say that I might get a kick out of feel free to shove it my way by clicking the “Contact” button at the top of the page.

*Edit:

Some readers wanted me to mention the “Horse-Shoe High-and-Tight” and the “Screaming Eagle”–both of which are basically extreme versions of the regular high-and-tight. The horse-shoe is when they give you a high and tight but shave the top part of it flat, which exposes your scalp since the hair is so much shorter (or bald). The screaming eagle is the highest and tightest of haircuts, where they shave most of it except for a bit of hair at the front.

Both haircuts are fucking wretched and I’m sorry they exist I mentioned them.

If there’s one word that can get even the surliest (especially) Marines riled up, it’s “boot”. There is no greater insult in the Corps than to be labeled a boot. That is, after you’ve eliminated the status from yourself at least. Of course, the average boot Marine isn’t going to complain much about being called a boot, but that’s beside the point.

Once you’ve returned home from your first (or second) combat deployment, “boot” status is generally removed. The actual definition of a “boot” is somewhat sketchy, depending on who you ask. For some, it’s those that don’t have Combat Action Ribbons, for others (most) it’s simply those that have never been on a deployment of any kind. This, of course, is in infantry terms. When you start getting into the POG world it becomes a little stranger, since the majority of them don’t go on regular deployment cycles. For most grunts though, most POG’s are boots automatically, which of course isn’t always true–but this is a comic about grunts after all.

The “boot” label is all about experience and pride–as is most things in the Marine Corps. To be called a boot is a direct punch at the grunt’s pride, and if you do so without caution it could end very poorly for you.

So if you’re looking for fighting words, look no further.

The shirt-stays are easily the most confusing and annoying uniform-related item you can find in a Marine’s closet. I’m sure most Marines had never actually dealt with them prior to enlisting, much like myself, so when I found myself confronted with the elastic straps I really had no idea what to do. The drill instructors give you a demo in bootcamp, but everyone seems to have their own way of wrapping them around their legs (or not at all). The application of shirt stays is a whole other matter; one that defies most common logic of casual clothing, forcing you to put everything except your pants on first.

I found this photo on Google

Shirt-stays aside, the uniforms of all branches of the military are loaded with all kinds of lore and tradition and stuff that is either true, implicit or just completely false. I’ve personally heard of the officer rank-thing while I was active duty, but as I asked around prior to making this strip it seemed it wasn’t a universally known thing. I suppose to that extent, I really could have had Abe say just about anything, but there is some kernel of truth (not Colonel) in there somewhere–at the very least in my head. Regardless, I’m sure it all gives history buffs something to sink their teeth into–of which I am not.

I’m not sure what it is, but history has always been my worst subject in school or otherwise. It’s not for a lack of respect for those that came before me, far from it. Rather, I believe it simply has to do with the way my mind operates. Every person’s mind operates differently, naturally mine tends to lean more toward the visual and immediate. Memorizing facts that may or may not be of any use to me has never been a strong point–memorizing anything has never really been a strong point for me, as I can barely remember where I leave my sunglasses every day. This paragraph has little to do with the military, but I just felt like ranting about this since you can really only talk about shirt-stays for so long.

In other news, it’s officially summer time here for me. I finished finals last week and deprived you all of new content, for which I’m sure you all will resent me for eternity like some kind of neglected child shoved in the closet so I can play hours of World of Warcraft or sleep with strange men in daddy’s old bed. Whether you do or not, I’m excited to spend the summer working on bigger and better things in the name of Lance Corporals all over the Corps. Look forward to some big things this summer!

You can find last summer’s big thing right here.

Hey gents, no new new strip today, it’s finals week and I’m balls deep in 12F animation paper trying to get this final finished before tomorrow. However, please accept this Marine Corps Times strip as a token of my appreciation for bearing with me.

Brand new Terminal Lance strips are featured in the Marine Corps Times every week, just so you know.

As for this guy, obviously this sort of thing probably isn’t something they actually do anymore (especially with the draw-down). But I always remember hearing these stories, and at the very least, back when I enlisted this sort of ultimatum still happened (from what some other Marines told me anyway, it’s entirely possible they were full of shit). In any case, we’ve all definitely heard the story of the Ultimatum from somewhere.

An unfortunate truth of the military lifestyle is infidelity. All too often you see situations like this pop up, except unlike the comic strip they usually end up becoming violently unfunny. It’s also the case, sometimes, where everyone around the individual can tell that something is up, but he is none the wiser. Some Marines possibly just don’t want to accept the idea that their wife cheated on them, so they pretend to not care that maybe it’s a little strange that their wife is 2 months pregnant when they come home from a 6 month deployment. Maybe their child comes out bearing a year-long tan that seems uncharacteristic of a caucasian couple.

Unfortunately, people cheat.

I wish I could say this was mutually exclusive to floozy wives, but that’s also not the case. I always found it ironic that many times the same Marines that cheat on their wives every weekend while she’s “back home” get pissed when they find out that their wife cheated on them while he was on deployment.

If you do know a Marine that finds himself in this unfortunate predicament, do him a favor and bring it to his attention that maybe there’s something a little off about his new offspring. It’s a dubious honor, to be sure, but one that will do him good in the long run.

In other news, it’s entirely possible there won’t be a new comic on Tuesday, as next week is the last week of the semester. I already don’t think I’m going to be sleeping this weekend, so bear with me if I post incoherent ramblings on Facebook, Twitter or Tumblr.

I think the company that makes MRE’s is a little confused as to what “organic” means.

In any case, I don’t think we’ll ever see the day of organic MRE’s. I don’t think it would be physically possible for something without any preservatives to last the 1-3 year shelf-life of the average MRE–most of which contain some form of “meat” in them. MRE’s are a strange animal, to be sure… well… more likely many strange animals ground up into a patty-shaped meat slab designed (theoretically) for human consumption.

The MRE (or “Mr. E” as I like to call him) takes the brunt of most of the food-related complaints you’ll find in the Corps. For as good as some of their efforts to imitate real food actually are, any slab of “chicken” or pineapple pound cake that can last 3 years on the shelf probably isn’t something you want to be putting into your body in any situation. Regardless, it’s impossible to avoid. I always tried to pack enough pogey-bait on field ops to supplement the wretched meals, ready-to-eat. But alas, beef jerky and energy-shots can only take you so far in the field.

If I had to pick a favorite, I’d go with the chili with beans MRE. It was new when I got out, and by far the best one I ever had. Heat it up, toss in the little Tabasco guy and you’ve got yourself a pretty decent meal–organs and all.

In other news, this weekend was fairly eventful. Well, specifically Saturday. I started Saturday bright and early (way too early for my civilian ass, frankly) at 0800 at the Palo Alto VA hospital for a mandatory IRR muster. Yes, even 2 years after my EAS date I found myself in the presence of officers and senior enlisted Marines alike. This time, however, I was returning as a pseudo-military-celebrity of sorts. I was shown around quite graciously, and was even introduced to Maj. Gen. Garrett, who was honestly really awesome to talk to.

Overall it was pretty great–there’s definitely a sort of nostalgia about being surrounded by like-minded Marines hating life in a suicide-brief. Aside from that though, it was a great opportunity for me to finally talk to a VA doctor–as we all know how much of a pain in the ass it is to set up your VA benefits after you get out. If you need any help getting your benefits set up, I wholly recommend attending one of these if you get the orders.

That wasn’t all the fun I had on Saturday though!

My graphic novel writing course at CCA was holding a student comic fair at The Escapist comic store in Berkeley. Seizing the opportunity, I figured it would be a good chance for me to do something crazy (I haven’t done anything crazy in a while, it was time). I had a couple books to spare, so I decided to do a giveaway. However, this giveaway had a condition:

The first two people to let me draw penises on their foreheads with a Sharpie marker would walk away with a free autographed copy of “KNIFE-HANDS!“

I did this kind of on the fly, so I didn’t give much notice. However, literally 5 minutes after I arrived at the comic store, a soldier (not a Marine) came in and said that he was up to the challenge. I mustered my finest illustrative talents and scrawled a rock-hard, cut phallus on this brave man’s face.

Army Strong

Despite being immensely amused with myself (if you can’t tell from the photo), I had to brave yet another fan willing to be emblazoned with my willie on his dome. This young man (civilian, I think) showed up almost immediately after the soldier here. I asked if he was sure, if he was ready for what was about to happen. He got down on his knees and said to me, “I am ready for this!“

More details this time

With the one-eyed spitter gracing his scalp, I signed his book and gave it to him in all its glory. Overall, The Escapist comic store trip was a great success. I’d like to thank The Escapist staff for being so cool with the whole dick-scribbling, as well as the fans that showed up and got some swag. I’m looking to set up some more signing-events, with a longer notice, I promise. As a quick shout-out, if you’re looking for a ginormous selection of comics, look no further than The Escapist in Berkeley if you need such things.

Until next time, stay frosty war fighters.

Don’t lie, we all know what movie you’re going to be seeing this weekend. You’ll make your excuses, you’ll tell everyone it’s because it is a movie about a Marine, or that you just want to make fun of it… but everyone will know the truth.

Okay anyway, I’m sure everyone is aware that “The Lucky One” is opening today. Yet another product of Nicholas Sparks’ chick-fantasy loins, this one happens to be about a modern day Marine played by none other than the atrociously good-looking, confusingly masculinely-effeminate Zac Effron. There was a lot of groaning when everyone found out that Zac Effron was going to be playing a Marine in this film, but not for any good reason, really. Effron is 24, male, good looking, in shape and could easily sleep with your girlfriend. Sounds like most Marines I know.

Regardless, like most Nicholas Sparks-based films, I’m sure the movie will be absolute trite Hollywood garbage, and I’m sure it’ll open to millions. How many fucking different ways are there to tell the exact same love story with basically the same characters? I dunno, but I’m sure Nicholas Sparks is rearing to find out.

In other news, I’ll be at the Palo Alto IRR muster tomorrow morning, so if you have a copy of KNIFE-HANDS you want signed or something, feel free to hunt me down. I’m not entirely sure what the plan is but I’ll be wandering around the event, at any rate. It’s also possible I’ll be making an appearance at The Escapist Comics Store in Berkeley at 6pm later in the day. Keep up with the Facebook fan page for live info.

It feels something like that.

Seriously though, I don’t know exactly what it is, but the barber at bootcamp is the most painful haircut you’ll ever receive. This is the kind of barber that asks if you have any bumps or moles on your head, then tells you they’re coming off. He then proceeds to force his 0-length buzzers into your scalp like he’s skinning a buffalo.

I’m guessing the reason for this is because they want your hair as close to bald as possible. Unfortunately, you can’t just bic your head like one might do in the fleet, they want it done at the barber shop with buzzers. I suppose I was never a huge fan of the holocaust victim look–and I remember the day in 3rd phase that we were allowed to get high-and-tight haircuts. Of course, like the shiny little boot I was, I ate it up and got the highest and tightest of ‘do’s. I remember later, when I was aboard SOI West at Camp Pendleton, I saw one of my compatriots with a strangely lower haircut, unlike all the other boot students. I asked him what he told the barber, and like it was some kind of inside-trader secret, he looked left and right and told me:

“…Tell the barber you want a ‘medium-reg’.”

…and I never looked back.

In other news, I’ll be at a couple of places on Saturday if everything goes as planned. If you’re going to the Palo Alto IRR muster, look for me there on Saturday morning. If you’re not, I might also be at a comic store in Oakland doing some kind of reading or otherwise comic-related thing there. I’ll post the details when I figure them out!

I don’t think I’ll be selling any books, but if you have a copy of “KNIFE-HANDS!!!” feel free to bring it by and I will bless it with my markings. If you don’t have one, there’s still time to get one!

The name on your chest in the military is both a blessing and a curse. It is your label, it is a word that people will associate with your physical essence. If you happen to have the unfortunate honor of carrying a family name that is laughable or remotely inappropriate, expect it to be used against you at every possible opportunity.

I suppose I only had this problem to a very limited extent. My last name is “Uriarte,” which was plastered across my breast for 4 years. If you’re 12 years old, mentally handicapped or dyslexic, you can possibly interpret the name to say “Urinate.” Regardless, since most people I knew just called me “Max” (including our Co. 1st Sgt), I never really had any serious issues with it.

I recall one event where I was literally walking past the barracks of another company. In the corner of my eye I spotted a nametape that I couldn’t ignore. I stopped in my tracks, walked over to this Marine, and without saying a word, took a picture of his nametape with my phone. It read, “BAGGINS”. Mind you, I’m a gigantic nerd and I thought it was hilarious, and the Marine laughed and said, “I’ve gotten a lot of shit for my name before, but no one has ever done that.”

Regardless, name tapes are generally an endless source of humor, since they’re very much impossible to hide from.

If you know someone with a funny nametape, snap a photo, without saying a word, and post it up on the Terminal Lance Facebook page!