Gimp clown Tutorial

I had a little satori last night, as I stared up at the ceiling, trying not to interrupt the gentle snoring of my bride.  Insomnia is what happens when they take away the thing you love the most in life, the thing that defines you.  I don't know what that thing is for you, but for me, as you may know, that thing is pipe hitting.  Man, I fucking loved hitting pipes.  Over and over.  And over.  And over.

But as you also know, that part of my life is over.

Thus the introspection.  And the travel.  And the talks I give to the kids at Yale.  And the satori.  Speaking of which satori, it is the purpose of this blog post.  Which is that I realized I've spent too much of my adult life as a generalist, rather than a specialist, and to die a complete man I must learn what it is to become a specialist.  Or at least learn something special.  Something that I can become awesome at, and then teach people later, so that they can follow my path toward zen-pipe-hitting awesomeness.  So I downloaded some open source software called GIMP, and learned how to use that shit to beclown someone who has pissed not just on my MRE, but in the MRE's of every pipe hitter I ever had the tremendous privilege of commanding.

And so, et voila, my pipe hitting stallions.  Please click the image below:

Rangers Lead the Way

-- Stan

Vlad Putin is my bitch

Some of you have emailed, asking, "Hola, General Stanley McChrystal, how come you haven't been posting to your eponymous weblog as much as I wish you would?"  The answer is that I've been busy doing some very stealthy an d pro-American shit that I cannot talk about.  I can, however, post this link to an Atlantic piece, which is now in the public domain.  Or at least not in violation of OpSec.  Open up this picture and look for the Ranger Tab.  Congratulations, Vlad:  You are the 75th Ranger Regiment's new bitch.

Rangers Lead the Way,

-- Stan

Happy Wolf Mothers Day

Sure, it was a little different, being raised by wolves, but you somehow made it all work out.  You taught me how to kill.  How to drink Bud Light Lime with the underside of my tongue.  Not to eat my own poop.  How to lead, and how to love.  I owe you everything, Mom.  And happy Wolfmother's Day.

Rangers Lead The Way

-- Stan

I've been giddy these last few days.  It's almost as if Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, and Halloween were combined into this big burrito of Stantastic news, Sunday night, that the finely tuned killing machine known as SOCOM has earned its pay.  So giddy I couldn't even sleep last night.  So I thought I'd write some haikus.

An apple a day
Is like
A bullet in the brain. 

Speak softly but
Be ready to
Put a bullet in the brain 

A bullet in the brain
Is worth
Two in the bush. 

Don't count
Your chickens
Until there's a bullet in the brain. 

One bullet in the brain for man,
One giant leap forward
For mankind.

Snap-Crackle-Pop,
Bullet
In the brain. 

Two in the brain
Motherfucker
Is out of the game 

Do unto others
With a bullet
In the brain

Rangers Lead The Way

-- Stan

You Wanna Play Fuckaround Fuckaround?

You wanna play fuckaround fuckaround?  Pretty soon, you ain't gonna be around.

Rangers Lead The Way

-- Stan

So Donald Trump Left a voicemail

And he’s all, "Hey, man, heard you were teaching at Yale now, and was wondering, do you think you can get Ivanka into business school down there? Because she got rejected at Harvard, and I'm thinking it's because she's not black."

As some of you may have guessed

As some of you may have guessed, I don't always vote Republican.  But I wouldn't buy a ham sandwich from this fucker:

The Best Ranger Competition 2011

If it's one thing I know about, it's introspection.  That's because I only sleep 2 hours a day and spend those other six that normal people spend sleeping, on introspection.  Or dreaming of hunting, I guess.  But introspection consumes a huge chunk of that time.  And as you may guess, after a lot of introspection, one cannot help but be honest with oneself.  And so it follows that if it's one other thing I know in addition to introspection -- and leadership and how to eat oat brains -- it's this:  Honesty.  And I have this to say about honesty and the Best Ranger Competition:  If the Ranger Committee is honest with itself, it should immediately re-title its contest: "The Best Ranger Next To Stanley McChrystal Competition".

Seriously, for those of you students taking my class at Whale University, you need to know one thing about Best Ranger: It is the shit.  There is a ZERO clown quotient at the BRC with high quality training which always involves misery and pain and Jesus and no broads and no people from the fucking State Department.  Next to OTC, this is the biggest gut check in the fucking world.  That's right.  The.  Fucking. World.  And those of you who know me well know that I do not go all Shatner with my punctuation lightly.

So pass me a Bud Light Lime, and let the suckfest begin.

Rangers Lead The Way

-- Stan

Harry Shearer is my Dog's best Friend?

Just read a story by some clown named Harry Shearer arguing that the Obama administration is tone deaf for appointing me to serve on a panel for families of returning warriors.  Tone deaf?  That's ironic, coming from a guy whose tag line at Huffington Post underneath his name says he's "Your Dog's Best Friend."  Because my dog is dead, fool.  He died stepping on a mine for me in the Korengal Valley last year.  That dog loved me.  No way Harry Shearer was his best friend.

Rangers Lead The Way.

-- Stan

A word on "Stan The Man."

People call me Stan The Man because, well, I'm The Man.  I'm the guy people sell out to.  So in my free time last night, as the rest of the world was sleeping, I decided to police up the Internet some.  And for starters, I want to make it clear that this guy is not me.  Nor is he also "The Man."  There can only be one "Stan the Man."  Singular.  And I crap bigger than this guy.  Or, I would crap bigger than this guy if I crapped, instead of using my rock hard sphincter to compress my poop into flawless fucking diamonds.  One of which I might be willing to part with if he'd stop squatting on my Internet domain.

Rangers Lead The Way.

-- Stan

New Twitter Account

I'm digging this new media thing.  Better than the old media.  Sign up to follow me on my twitter account -- realstantheman@ -- or something like that.

Rangers Lead the Way

-- Stan

Sometimes I find it difficult to believe I ever worked for General Petraeus. Like, when I saw this picture of him playing "whose hand is on top" like a frickin five year old with some random Mustafa.  Seriously, "Peaches," when's the last time you put a bullet in a terrorist's brain and watched his skull cap fly off a frickin cliff?  And then went to inspect that brain?  And then scooped some of those brains out of his cranial cavity and added them to your oatmeal?  Yeah I bet it's been a while.  And now it's come to this?

General Petraeus, dude, you need to do something with the finely tuned killing machine I bequeathed you over in The Stan.  Yeah, that country known as Afghanistan, and that I nicknamed after my very wiry-as-fuck self.  Eat some oat brains, man.  See the effect it has on your stools.  Perfect little cigar shaped brown villains, my friend, is the effect it will have.  Villains you can move out regularly each morning like a Prussian traffic cop sitting on top of a Krupps shelf commode.

My advice?  Avoid clowns.  Less grab ass.  More bullets in the brain. 

Rangers Lead the Way.

-- Stan

Shot, over.

My name is Stanley.  Maybe you've heard of me.  I used to be a General.  Now I teach leadership at a University whose name rhymes with Fail.  Or whale.  Or snail.  Your choice.  Whatever.  This is my blog.  These are my thoughts.  Feel free to quote them.  But don't misquote them.  And don't be a fucking clown.

Rangers Lead the Way.

-- Stan