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A LIST OF BAD IDEAS FOR SUBMARINERS TO DO.
Bad Ideas:
Allowing junior officers to asphyxiate themselves through unfamiliarity with breathing apparatus.*
Answering a wife’s phone call for her husband with ‘No, he left an hour ago. His wife picked him up on the pier.’
Answering the phone ‘Ready Rocket Ranger Room, Ready Rocket Ranger here, can I help you?’
Any comparison between the diving officer’s ability to maintain depth and helicopter flight, rodeos or roller coaster rides.
Any non-medicinal use of a substance that turns urine red.
Anything other than paper being forced through a shredder rated for Top Secret material.
Arguing with the EEO advisor that there can be non-insulting ethnic jokes.
After the trash compacting of a copy of the Bhagvat Gita from the ship’s library by a fundamentalist christian, shredding each and every single Christian Answers pamphlet in the lounge and filling the pockets of the organizer with pamphlet shred.
Arguing with the XO on anything.
Asking an ensign what he does for a living.
Asking the weapons officer to verify MCC/NAV transmission checks during a D5 countdown.
Battleaxes brought to the scene as weapons of opportunity.
Biting Officers.
Bolting the Chief’s coffee mug to a workbench.
Claiming that my time could be better spent downloading amputee dwarf porn.*
Completing qualifications in 1/5th the assigned time.
Convincing junior personnel to report to sickbay with their symptoms of Hawaiian malady (Lakka-Nooki).
Correcting an officer’s pronunciation of wargame areas designated by Pokemon monster names.
Creating additional qualification cards for officers.
Creating letters of demerit for officers.
Drawing attention to the bandaid on my earlobe by announcing if anyone’s curious, I have NOT had my ear pierced.
Driving an Japanese-made car to a Veterans function.
Bragging about how much money I saved over buying a comparable American car.
Duct-taping marine-trained corpsmen in the rack.
Eating dog biscuits in the engine room.
Embroidering nicknames onto my uniform.
Encouraging violators on security drills to resist arrest and give the MT’s ‘a workout.’
Entering judgment calls on stupid decisions by the department head in the official log before acting on stupid orders.
Fan Room Violence.
Fastening the XO and CO’s stateroom door handles together.
Flying Tackle to get a Lieutenant’s attention.
For electrical matters, asking the division officer with the English Degree ‘Who’s the subject matter expert here?’
Freezing an officer’s Academy blanket in a gallon of water.
Getting a stuffed penguin qualified as supervisor.
Going for the ‘Star Wars’ effect on the display during section tracking party.
Grading training exams in binary, octal or hexidecimal.
Growling at junior officers.
Gunplay in the superstructure.
Heaving an O2 Generator over the side of the tender.
Hiding baby alligators in the ship as ‘bilge monsters.’
Hiring phone-sex operators to record normal operational reports and playing the sultry voice over the phones during training evolutions.
Holding Lt. Cdr’s accountable to their own policies and standing orders.
Inflatable sheep. Well, the sheep wasn’t the bad idea. Proving to certain people that I really did have an inflatable sheep in my possession…
Keeping cookies in the main power distribution door for the weapons system.
Letting well-intentioned but not licensed personnel move ordinance by forklift.
Magic Marker Wars with a Lt. J.G.
Magical Mystery Wake Ups.*
Most death threats.
Making or accepting challenges to ask more than 100 questions during a single checkout.
Making outrageous use of the fact mighty few people knew exactly what I did for a living.
Mounting Kon Tiki the DASO War God in MCC to help us complete the shakedown cruise.
Non-industrial use of pressurized air.
Not securing an unattended dryer before the clothes caught fire because I was tired of warning the ####### not to leave the things.
Not attacking a fire in the laundry because we were busy stomping on all the cockroaches that fled the burning spaces in an ugly brown wave.
Ordering the following items through the Navy Supply System: crew-served weapons, flame throwing tanks, a clue, liberty, laboratory grade cocaine, a gross of ugly sticks, Hooters take-out, inflatable dates, marital aids and a bottle of relative bearing grease.*
Painting lamb’s blood on the MCC door at Passover.
Photo manipulating pictures of playmates into photographs of personnel on watch.
Playing ‘Assassin’ after watch.
Playing ‘Assassin’ on watch.
Playing ‘Train Crossing’ during wakeups.*
Playing to SEAL prejudices about the prevalence of submariner homosexuality.
Playing to the Captain’s delusions of godhood.
Pointing out to officers that their standing orders prevent me from following a given order when not able to keep a straight face.
Pretending to be a drill weenie during non-drill periods.
Pretty much anything I ever did to a midshipman.*
Programming one targeting computer to attack the other targeting computer.
Pronouncing Lt. Cdr (Lieutenant Commander) as ‘Lit-Cedar.’
Pumping a shotgun within fifty feet of a Marine.
Putting glass ketchup bottles with the lids on in the trash compactor, especially when taking care to arrange four of them so when they’re finally crushed they explode noisily and frighten the Sonar Techs.
Frightening Sonar Techs.
Putting Nair in Chief’s shampoo.
Reading a book while walking across the base.
Reading a book while walking to fulfill the command PT requirement.
Rearranging internal ventilation to channel the air near a farting contest into a lounge.
Recreating the drum beat of a marching bad by rhythmically sniffling while in formation.
Referring to aircraft carriers as ‘targets’ at a Navy Veterans function.
Referring to hole punch reinforcements as ‘paper officers.’
“Rig for Food Fight.â€
Referring to tender pukes as tender pukes.
Re-labeling power switches to screw with officers.
Replacing all control room grease pencils with blue grease (a color that cannot be seen when rigged for red).
Rollerskating in the reactor compartment.
Running hamster tubes through the overhead to convince the chief we have a pet onboard.
Saluting very junior officers riding bicycles and carrying study books.*
Saying what I really feel on counseling sheets.
Scheduling divisional training on a not-to-interfere basis with the ‘Starship Troopers’ cartoon.
Sending Seamen in when the captain asks for a senior missile technician.
Shaving off eyebrows (mine).
Shaving off eyebrows (other’s).
Shifting to pagan invocations after all documented and undocumented troubleshooting fails.
Shining DC lanterns up the periscope well while Control is rigged for black.
Shooting pencils out of pistols because the way the firing pin hitting the eraser just springs the things on out there.
Shouting ‘Hey! YOU!’ at Commodores leaning over my security area.
Showing boy scout tour groups how many playboys can be stacked in a standard bunk locker.
Showing civilian tour groups the panel on the missile tube ‘where the pilot climbs in.’
Showing sea-cadet tour groups which kitchen freezer we’d put the dead bodies in until the end of patrol.
Standing Nuclear Weapons Security Guard with the required Web Belt, Whistle, Guard Orders, Nightstick, Clipboard, Steel Toed Shoes…and nothing else.
Stealing the Chief’s Locker table.
Stealing the Wardroom table.
Strapping someone to a stretcher outside of an emergency or stretcher bearer training.
Stuffing safes I don’t have legal access to with unused condoms as a protest.
Super gluing the contents of a desk to the overhead.
Targeting nukes at Virginia Beach because of Pat Robertson.
Taunting chiefs about homosexual behavior.
Taunting officers about ways to determine if one is a latent homosexual.
Teasing the JOOD.
Teasing the nukes.
Telling anyone that’s more than two paygrades above me that they are, indeed, losing it.
Telling cub scout tour groups that are afraid of being underwater just how long ago we went below the waterline.*
Telling little old lady tour groups that the nuclear missiles have the capability to be ‘set for stun.’
Telling the chaplain for the Naval Academy that you cheer for the Army team (and anyone else that beats up midshipmen).*
The 2x4 of Knowledge.*
The Cone of Knowledge.*
Turning around and saying ‘Yes?’ after hearing ‘God I hate bubbleheads!’ in a bar on a suface base.
Tying all the officer chair legs together (except the CO’s) right before they try to sit down to dinner.
Using ‘stultifying’ in a training critique.*
Using a heavie gun within 20 feet of the person receiving the heavie.
Using a traffic cone for communications when the radios just went all sucky.
Using radiation protection gear when performing wake-ups. (“Hey! This one’s still alive!â€)
Using smashed walkman parts to convince Supply we accidentally destroyed mandatory turn in items worth $3000.
Using the ‘Designer Jeans and Knockoffs’ metaphor to teach targeting training without divulging classified material.
Using the laundry ‘whites only’ sign for anything else at all on the planet.
Using the phrase ‘my dying ###’ in a trainer countdown critique.
Venting all pressurized missile tubes just as the XO draws an airtight seal on the bridge access hatch.
Wearing a ‘from another planet’ pin in place of a nametag.
Wearing Dolphin insignia that are actually well-endowed mermaids sporting in the surf
When varying personnel small arms qualifications cause a total of seven weapons to be located at a security checkpoint, strapping them all on at once and carrying a knife in my teeth.
Wiring the division’s stereo to the ship’s internal communications lines.
Writing security drills where the criminals have a fairly good chance of succeeding.
Telling jokes over the interior communications system.
Emptying two bottles of blue food coloring into the coffee (which doesn’t change the color of the coffee, just the color of the drinkers’ teeth).
Dressing an officer such that all his insignia are upside down and inside out (bars under the shirt, pins sticking up).
Pet cockroaches.
Anything collected from the Swamp as a barracks pet.
Watergun fights in the barracks.
Flying seagulls as a kite from a barracks window.
Throwing toast in the air to make ducks fly in front of a radar emitter.
Launching model rockets where they'll be picked up by training radar as an attacking missile.
Putting your name, rank, school and class on the inside of a panel of a model rocket that was accidentally fired at a Surface Warfare training school.
Attending a race riot.*
Anatomically correct baked goods.
Smearing blood over a 10-year old amputation to make someone think they cut your finger off.
Smearing blood over a 10-year old amputation and making the Dive vomit.
Answering honestly to the rhetorical question 'Would you like to teach this topic?'*
Answering any rhetorical question.
Snapping pocket pen clips near anyone with Bomb Squad experience (much like shaking maracas near someone that has been surprised by a rattlesnake).
Answering honestly when the Game Warden asks what I'd do if I found a rattlesnake in the security area.
Urging junior officers to really whale on the deck with the rubber mallet to verify 'stow for sea.'*
Anything launched out of the signal ejector while tied alongside the tender.
Making livestock sounds at the airport*
Making ambiguous statements about my position on race relations.*
Admitting to have participated in a race riot, even if I didn’t take sides.*
Waxing chalkboards.
M&M yeah-buts attack.
Designing Tshirts*
Leaving the wife at the clinic
Waving to wife from moving vehicle
Getting rides from shipmates
I wrote down a bunch of things the other day when i realized that all i was doing was writing 'don't be a marine' in a variety of ways*
Bad Excuses:
Actually, I shouted: ‘Hey! YOU! SIR!’
At least I have PROOF I’m not a latent homosexual. Do you?
Because he was a nuke.
Because I was tired of warning the ####### not to do that.
He dared me.
Someone dared me.
He forgot.
He started it.
He stepped on the deck after I told him the wax was still wet.
How else will the junior personnel learn?
I liked the sound.
I was a tender puke!
I was bored.
I was really bored.
It was my patrol project.
It’s my job.
It’s not my job.
My cat died.
To see if anyone noticed.
To see what would happen.
We all did it.
We all do it.
We always did it that way on my previous command.
You told me to.
You didn’t tell me not to.
You laughed when they did it in Private Benjamin.
Yeah, he’ll be an officer SOME day…just not now.
A LIST OF BAD IDEAS FOR SUBMARINERS TO DO.
Bad Ideas:
Allowing junior officers to asphyxiate themselves through unfamiliarity with breathing apparatus.*
Answering a wife’s phone call for her husband with ‘No, he left an hour ago. His wife picked him up on the pier.’
Answering the phone ‘Ready Rocket Ranger Room, Ready Rocket Ranger here, can I help you?’
Any comparison between the diving officer’s ability to maintain depth and helicopter flight, rodeos or roller coaster rides.
Any non-medicinal use of a substance that turns urine red.
Anything other than paper being forced through a shredder rated for Top Secret material.
Arguing with the EEO advisor that there can be non-insulting ethnic jokes.
After the trash compacting of a copy of the Bhagvat Gita from the ship’s library by a fundamentalist christian, shredding each and every single Christian Answers pamphlet in the lounge and filling the pockets of the organizer with pamphlet shred.
Arguing with the XO on anything.
Asking an ensign what he does for a living.
Asking the weapons officer to verify MCC/NAV transmission checks during a D5 countdown.
Battleaxes brought to the scene as weapons of opportunity.
Biting Officers.
Bolting the Chief’s coffee mug to a workbench.
Claiming that my time could be better spent downloading amputee dwarf porn.*
Completing qualifications in 1/5th the assigned time.
Convincing junior personnel to report to sickbay with their symptoms of Hawaiian malady (Lakka-Nooki).
Correcting an officer’s pronunciation of wargame areas designated by Pokemon monster names.
Creating additional qualification cards for officers.
Creating letters of demerit for officers.
Drawing attention to the bandaid on my earlobe by announcing if anyone’s curious, I have NOT had my ear pierced.
Driving an Japanese-made car to a Veterans function.
Bragging about how much money I saved over buying a comparable American car.
Duct-taping marine-trained corpsmen in the rack.
Eating dog biscuits in the engine room.
Embroidering nicknames onto my uniform.
Encouraging violators on security drills to resist arrest and give the MT’s ‘a workout.’
Entering judgment calls on stupid decisions by the department head in the official log before acting on stupid orders.
Fan Room Violence.
Fastening the XO and CO’s stateroom door handles together.
Flying Tackle to get a Lieutenant’s attention.
For electrical matters, asking the division officer with the English Degree ‘Who’s the subject matter expert here?’
Freezing an officer’s Academy blanket in a gallon of water.
Getting a stuffed penguin qualified as supervisor.
Going for the ‘Star Wars’ effect on the display during section tracking party.
Grading training exams in binary, octal or hexidecimal.
Growling at junior officers.
Gunplay in the superstructure.
Heaving an O2 Generator over the side of the tender.
Hiding baby alligators in the ship as ‘bilge monsters.’
Hiring phone-sex operators to record normal operational reports and playing the sultry voice over the phones during training evolutions.
Holding Lt. Cdr’s accountable to their own policies and standing orders.
Inflatable sheep. Well, the sheep wasn’t the bad idea. Proving to certain people that I really did have an inflatable sheep in my possession…
Keeping cookies in the main power distribution door for the weapons system.
Letting well-intentioned but not licensed personnel move ordinance by forklift.
Magic Marker Wars with a Lt. J.G.
Magical Mystery Wake Ups.*
Most death threats.
Making or accepting challenges to ask more than 100 questions during a single checkout.
Making outrageous use of the fact mighty few people knew exactly what I did for a living.
Mounting Kon Tiki the DASO War God in MCC to help us complete the shakedown cruise.
Non-industrial use of pressurized air.
Not securing an unattended dryer before the clothes caught fire because I was tired of warning the ####### not to leave the things.
Not attacking a fire in the laundry because we were busy stomping on all the cockroaches that fled the burning spaces in an ugly brown wave.
Ordering the following items through the Navy Supply System: crew-served weapons, flame throwing tanks, a clue, liberty, laboratory grade cocaine, a gross of ugly sticks, Hooters take-out, inflatable dates, marital aids and a bottle of relative bearing grease.*
Painting lamb’s blood on the MCC door at Passover.
Photo manipulating pictures of playmates into photographs of personnel on watch.
Playing ‘Assassin’ after watch.
Playing ‘Assassin’ on watch.
Playing ‘Train Crossing’ during wakeups.*
Playing to SEAL prejudices about the prevalence of submariner homosexuality.
Playing to the Captain’s delusions of godhood.
Pointing out to officers that their standing orders prevent me from following a given order when not able to keep a straight face.
Pretending to be a drill weenie during non-drill periods.
Pretty much anything I ever did to a midshipman.*
Programming one targeting computer to attack the other targeting computer.
Pronouncing Lt. Cdr (Lieutenant Commander) as ‘Lit-Cedar.’
Pumping a shotgun within fifty feet of a Marine.
Putting glass ketchup bottles with the lids on in the trash compactor, especially when taking care to arrange four of them so when they’re finally crushed they explode noisily and frighten the Sonar Techs.
Frightening Sonar Techs.
Putting Nair in Chief’s shampoo.
Reading a book while walking across the base.
Reading a book while walking to fulfill the command PT requirement.
Rearranging internal ventilation to channel the air near a farting contest into a lounge.
Recreating the drum beat of a marching bad by rhythmically sniffling while in formation.
Referring to aircraft carriers as ‘targets’ at a Navy Veterans function.
Referring to hole punch reinforcements as ‘paper officers.’
“Rig for Food Fight.â€
Referring to tender pukes as tender pukes.
Re-labeling power switches to screw with officers.
Replacing all control room grease pencils with blue grease (a color that cannot be seen when rigged for red).
Rollerskating in the reactor compartment.
Running hamster tubes through the overhead to convince the chief we have a pet onboard.
Saluting very junior officers riding bicycles and carrying study books.*
Saying what I really feel on counseling sheets.
Scheduling divisional training on a not-to-interfere basis with the ‘Starship Troopers’ cartoon.
Sending Seamen in when the captain asks for a senior missile technician.
Shaving off eyebrows (mine).
Shaving off eyebrows (other’s).
Shifting to pagan invocations after all documented and undocumented troubleshooting fails.
Shining DC lanterns up the periscope well while Control is rigged for black.
Shooting pencils out of pistols because the way the firing pin hitting the eraser just springs the things on out there.
Shouting ‘Hey! YOU!’ at Commodores leaning over my security area.
Showing boy scout tour groups how many playboys can be stacked in a standard bunk locker.
Showing civilian tour groups the panel on the missile tube ‘where the pilot climbs in.’
Showing sea-cadet tour groups which kitchen freezer we’d put the dead bodies in until the end of patrol.
Standing Nuclear Weapons Security Guard with the required Web Belt, Whistle, Guard Orders, Nightstick, Clipboard, Steel Toed Shoes…and nothing else.
Stealing the Chief’s Locker table.
Stealing the Wardroom table.
Strapping someone to a stretcher outside of an emergency or stretcher bearer training.
Stuffing safes I don’t have legal access to with unused condoms as a protest.
Super gluing the contents of a desk to the overhead.
Targeting nukes at Virginia Beach because of Pat Robertson.
Taunting chiefs about homosexual behavior.
Taunting officers about ways to determine if one is a latent homosexual.
Teasing the JOOD.
Teasing the nukes.
Telling anyone that’s more than two paygrades above me that they are, indeed, losing it.
Telling cub scout tour groups that are afraid of being underwater just how long ago we went below the waterline.*
Telling little old lady tour groups that the nuclear missiles have the capability to be ‘set for stun.’
Telling the chaplain for the Naval Academy that you cheer for the Army team (and anyone else that beats up midshipmen).*
The 2x4 of Knowledge.*
The Cone of Knowledge.*
Turning around and saying ‘Yes?’ after hearing ‘God I hate bubbleheads!’ in a bar on a suface base.
Tying all the officer chair legs together (except the CO’s) right before they try to sit down to dinner.
Using ‘stultifying’ in a training critique.*
Using a heavie gun within 20 feet of the person receiving the heavie.
Using a traffic cone for communications when the radios just went all sucky.
Using radiation protection gear when performing wake-ups. (“Hey! This one’s still alive!â€)
Using smashed walkman parts to convince Supply we accidentally destroyed mandatory turn in items worth $3000.
Using the ‘Designer Jeans and Knockoffs’ metaphor to teach targeting training without divulging classified material.
Using the laundry ‘whites only’ sign for anything else at all on the planet.
Using the phrase ‘my dying ###’ in a trainer countdown critique.
Venting all pressurized missile tubes just as the XO draws an airtight seal on the bridge access hatch.
Wearing a ‘from another planet’ pin in place of a nametag.
Wearing Dolphin insignia that are actually well-endowed mermaids sporting in the surf
When varying personnel small arms qualifications cause a total of seven weapons to be located at a security checkpoint, strapping them all on at once and carrying a knife in my teeth.
Wiring the division’s stereo to the ship’s internal communications lines.
Writing security drills where the criminals have a fairly good chance of succeeding.
Telling jokes over the interior communications system.
Emptying two bottles of blue food coloring into the coffee (which doesn’t change the color of the coffee, just the color of the drinkers’ teeth).
Dressing an officer such that all his insignia are upside down and inside out (bars under the shirt, pins sticking up).
Pet cockroaches.
Anything collected from the Swamp as a barracks pet.
Watergun fights in the barracks.
Flying seagulls as a kite from a barracks window.
Throwing toast in the air to make ducks fly in front of a radar emitter.
Launching model rockets where they'll be picked up by training radar as an attacking missile.
Putting your name, rank, school and class on the inside of a panel of a model rocket that was accidentally fired at a Surface Warfare training school.
Attending a race riot.*
Anatomically correct baked goods.
Smearing blood over a 10-year old amputation to make someone think they cut your finger off.
Smearing blood over a 10-year old amputation and making the Dive vomit.
Answering honestly to the rhetorical question 'Would you like to teach this topic?'*
Answering any rhetorical question.
Snapping pocket pen clips near anyone with Bomb Squad experience (much like shaking maracas near someone that has been surprised by a rattlesnake).
Answering honestly when the Game Warden asks what I'd do if I found a rattlesnake in the security area.
Urging junior officers to really whale on the deck with the rubber mallet to verify 'stow for sea.'*
Anything launched out of the signal ejector while tied alongside the tender.
Making livestock sounds at the airport*
Making ambiguous statements about my position on race relations.*
Admitting to have participated in a race riot, even if I didn’t take sides.*
Waxing chalkboards.
M&M yeah-buts attack.
Designing Tshirts*
Leaving the wife at the clinic
Waving to wife from moving vehicle
Getting rides from shipmates
I wrote down a bunch of things the other day when i realized that all i was doing was writing 'don't be a marine' in a variety of ways*
Bad Excuses:
Actually, I shouted: ‘Hey! YOU! SIR!’
At least I have PROOF I’m not a latent homosexual. Do you?
Because he was a nuke.
Because I was tired of warning the ####### not to do that.
He dared me.
Someone dared me.
He forgot.
He started it.
He stepped on the deck after I told him the wax was still wet.
How else will the junior personnel learn?
I liked the sound.
I was a tender puke!
I was bored.
I was really bored.
It was my patrol project.
It’s my job.
It’s not my job.
My cat died.
To see if anyone noticed.
To see what would happen.
We all did it.
We all do it.
We always did it that way on my previous command.
You told me to.
You didn’t tell me not to.
You laughed when they did it in Private Benjamin.
Yeah, he’ll be an officer SOME day…just not now.
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