DAY 27, M*A*S*H

After my recent post about salvaging a crappy desk, Brother Bob replied that it reminded him of a M*A*S*H episode. I couldn't agree more. My whole life now is like that show. Sure, technology has improved and I can blog everyday, but basic life is really the same 60 years after the setting of the TV show.

For instance, I hike to the showers. It's really cold now, but it will be really hot soon. Kinda' like the episodes when everybody is complaining about the cold or the heat. I can never get the water temperature right when there is hot water. When there is no hot water, I impress myself with how qucikly I go from dirty to clean.

Another similarity: Our deputy commander is loathed by all in the same vein as Frank Burns. Our Colonel returns today from 3 weeks of R&R (coincidentally my first 3 weeks here), and everyone is highly anticipating his return (similar to when Frank Burns would be in charge when Henry Blake was away).

Getting mail is a big deal. Our first sergeant is the only one allowed to pick up mail at the post office. He goes once a day. When he comes back, everyone anxiously awaits to see if they got something. Nephew Matt wins the prize as first piece of mail received (10 days ago). Tiffany's first package finally arrived two days ago. It took two weeks, but Lara Bars never tasted so good!

Remember the episode about the practical jokes? I tried my hand at it the other day. There's an interesting civilian in our office who has a habit of hording food from the chow hall. He's getting ready to go back home and has been mailing large boxes back to his wife every other day. None of us can figure out how he accumulated so much stuff while over here, unless it's packs of gum and other horded food items. He's a strange, idiosyncratic dude.

So, I typed up a fake official memo from "Sergeant First Class Johnson" at the local headquarters. It said something to the effect of "during routine postal package inspection, we noticed some discrepancies in one or more of your packages . . . ." The final instruction was to report to the post office to resolve the matter.

I had our first sergeant deliver it to him during mail call. This guy started freaking. He demanded to see the policies pertaining to sending packages home. He went around asking everyone in the office if their packages had ever been held up. He asked our Ops Officer about the penalties for violating the mail policy.

The best part was talking with him later that night. I played dumb and asked, "What's this I hear about them confiscating your package?" Man, he laid it on thick. He told me he was being "investigated for sending contraband." Of course none of that was in the memo -- it was just his imagination running wild.

The memo instructed him to see "Ms Rhonda Jackson" at the post office. I was really looking forward to seeing him raise hell, but some of our coworkers were concerned he would cause too big of a scene, so they let him off the hook before we left at the end of the day. He was relieved and pissed all at the same time. It was great comedy. Hawkeye would be proud.

152 days to go.