I received this from a non-VFW kind of Vietnam Vet. I share it in its entirety because- well- sometimes you just have to own your quirks in these fraternal constructs. It seems the reputation of Veterans Service Organizations and their free-thinking Post Members’ proclivity for all things alcohol precedes them-and us by association. I had thought the VVA would become our new saviors in the post-Vietnam era but they quickly morphed into the identical twin of their fellow VSOs.
As most know, the VFW sort of pissed on my parade in 1973 when they told me I wasn’t eligible to join because I’d “never served in a war”. I’m sorry. I can’t forget that. There’s a wall in DC with 58,307 names on it. They died somewhere and a few happened to be pretty good friends of mine. VFW can never look me straight in the face and say “Well, that phrase is no longer operable, son. The good news is now you’re eligible.”
Which is why I present this Veterans humor. I just wanted to clear the air that I’m laughing at you, VFW-not with you. No offense. Mutuo Te Absolvo and all that. We’re all 65-75 now or thereabouts. I apologize in advance.
WHEN YOU’RE IN A VFW BAR
It was ten o’clock at night. I was standing at the bar at the VFW two years ago minding my own business. I’d just joined that day and this was my first visit to their bar. A woman with an exceedingly large body mass index came up behind me, grabbed my behind painfully hard and said, “You’re kinda cute. You gotta phone number?”
I said, “Yeah, you gotta pen?”
She said, “Yeah, I got a pen”.
I said, ” Good. You better get back in it lickety-spit before the farmer discovers you missing.”
Cost me 6 stitches…but what the hey? It was a VFW bar. They didn’t even 86 her for it.
I was talking to a young woman with coke-bottle lenses for glasses back at the VFW bar again last month.
She squinted real hard and said, “If you lost a few pounds, got a decent shave and had your hair cut and styled, you’d look all right. Did anybody ever tell you that?”
I said, “ Honey, if I did all that, I wouldn’t be wasting my time getting advice from you. I’d be talking to those two blond identical twins over there instead of you.”
Cost me a fat lip, but…what the hey. It was a VFW Bar. These folks love to party.
I was telling a woman at the VFW bar last week about my psychic ability to guess exactly what day and year a woman was born on by doing no more than feeling her breasts.
“Really?” she said, ” Weeeeeeeeeeell… okay. Go on then… try. I gotta see this one.”
After about a minute of being fondled, she began to lose patience and said, “Come on now. What day was I born?”
I said, “Yesterday.”
Cost me a quick kick in the nuts, but… it was a VFW bar. I just figured these folks were a little slow.
I went to our VFW last night. My new buddies convinced me it was the custom for the new guy to buy the drinks for a year. Hours later, as I was stumbling out, I saw a mega-BIG woman dancing on a table. We’re talking Sumo grade, dude. Okay. You want to know how big she was? She was so big it felt like she had her own gravitational field you could feel tugging at you-like a Black Hole pulling you in. She could eclipse the sun. Seriously. She must be in the Guinness Book.
I analyzed it for a moment and said truthfully, “Good legs.”
The girl giggled and said, “Do you really think so?”
I looked up at her and said, “Definitely! Most tables would have collapsed under the load by now.”
I guess I’d had more to drink than I thought I had. I honestly didn’t see the bottle coming. Cost me 6 more stitches, but that’s what you get in a VFW bar. Next week I’m trying out the Buddy System. I have some new friends there who feel sorry for me.