Fire Captain Buck

Firefighters Used As Political Pawns

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 00:56:00 +0000

"Wha' u B saying?"
"Man, dem boyz make money, we had need to cut it sum."
"Fo reel?"
OH HELL YEAH

That sums up members of city council as they go about cutting companies. How can you explain the importance of fire protection to people who have yet to advance past the larval stage of english development. There are Polish children who speak better english than some of our council.

A properly equipped firefighter, like Old Buck, will always be able to do the job but not unless we have some other firefighters, including the fat fucks, who can go fetch equipment.

Shit.

Assholes Are Retiring

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 00:52:00 +0000

Old buck hates to be away for so long but a lot of assholes are choosing to retire. These pieces of cat excrement have decided to stop polluting the fire service gene pool by bailing out. It's been one happy drunkfest since these cretins started to retire.

One fat gizzard retired because the "paperwork" was a burden. What? Meow. The paperwork? There is no paperwork unless he counts the paper to wipe his fat hands after he downs about six jelly donuts.

Another guy, in admin, is retiring. Why? He can't do less in retirement than he does now as chief of somefuckingthing. These guys, and the other 5, should have been gone years ago.

This Is A Firefighter From FDIC

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 01:26:00 +0000

The Convention Chiefs

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 01:18:00 +0000

FDIC and Firehouse Expo are coming up and that means a bunch of fat bastard chiefs will show up from small towns in Texas, New york and Goatfuck, Idaho. They'll give lectures to men who have seen more fire in one tour than they see in 20 years.

Last year this one boy from a department in Texas called me brother. Now he was talking about pride in the damn job and was calling me brother. He weighed about 350 pounds. He don't need to call me brother, he needs to call Jenny Craig. My brothers can crawl down the hall and grab me. "Pride" boy is out of breath wiping cheese from his second chin.

Anyway, I'm all about the brotherhood but just bouncing around from department to department is what most of these asshats do or they are chiefs in places that don't see 20,000 alarms a year. Where can you apply any thing you learned? They should be called JV Chiefs.

Another boy runs around to all the conventions talking about how his instructors are the best. The boy is on Old Buck's department and word around the smoking ruins is that the boy runs at the first sign of fire.

I'll go with the brothers to the conferences and we will find one of these small town chiefs and scare him. It's the only fun a brother can have.

Firefighters Become Stupid When They Make Chief

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 01:11:00 +0000

Now one thing old Buck has seen in his time is some good firefighters. Real good, brave, hard drinking, womanizing firefighters. You can't beat them.

Then a few of them begin to believe they are better than they are and sign up to take the test for Batshit Crazy Shift. The promotion, when it comes, removes about 200 points off of their 125 point IQ.

If the fire is on floor 2 a chief will send people to floor 6 because he has forgotten to think a little bit. Or a lot. Some of them get really stupid and start trying to tell Buck what to do and I lay a size 15 boot in their little white shirted asses.

Hell, some of those boys are chiefs in little towns with a population of under 80,000. What fire do they see? You see them at a damn convention and they are giving classes. On what? They haven't done shit.

Now our chiefs are experienced but they still act stupid. Makes you wonder.

Holy Dog Shit

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 24 Mar 2009 01:10:00 +0000

Now this is embarassing and makes me want to slap the piss out of somebody. Old Buck couldn't remember where this blog thing was located. So that is why you haven't seen shit in a while.

Know Your Role At A Scene

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 21:17:00 +0000

Like the man said, I piss excellence. But not everyone does because some people are good at what they do and the other 99% ain't worth shit. Man, on an emergency scene when people are screaming, and that's just the fire department, you have to keep your cool. Also, know your role. Bitches.

See Old Buck don't believe in telling another man, say a bricklayer, how to do his job. If the bricklayer is laying bricks Buck let's him work as long as he's not screwing shit up. The man's a pro.

Now take Wally, my next door neighbor with a desk job, I can tell him what to do because anyone can sit at a desk and do that type of shit. Hell, even chiefs do it.

On an emergency scene you have to know your role. NOBODY tells me how to ventilate and I don't tell nobody how to use their little hoses to put water on the fire. That's their role and I have mine.

Well, some people think they can avoid calling BUCK or another truck to do vent work. Shut up dingleberry! The deal is this-Me and the other truck Captains know our shit. We train for it. So do the engine guys with the water and the rescue guys with rescue. If you want the job done right use the right one.

Some old boys can't understand it. It makes Buck want to vomit in their throat so they can choke until I decide to allow them to puke on their own.

Life is full of roles. Know yours. Bitches.

On Runs To High Rises

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 01:39:00 +0000

We got back from a high rise call about 30 minutes ago. Now old Buck can run up some steps because I'm a stud and even at my age getting up to the 30th floor is a breeze. But brother, when you get up there and an engine company is standing in the lobby, you get pissed.

SOG states not to use the elevator in this particular case. So I set about to gnawing on some ass and this young boy, possibly from Poland, looks at me and says, "Chill out man." My hand reached across space and time and snatched his coat pulling him close to me, like those two gay lion tamers who no longer tame.

I looked into his eyes and he was scared. Not Nightmare on Elm Street scared but "Holy shit, I just breathed my last breath" scared. I let his coat go and recommenced to eating the ass out of his hog company officer.

Now lest you think I am insensitive when we got back down to the street I went over to the boy and grabbed him in a headlock. Twisting his head I laughed and told him no hard feelings. He smiled as his face turned blue.

I love communication.

The Midget Chief

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 23:09:00 +0000

Remember when midgets were cool? Yeah, me neither. Anyway one of our chief orifices is a midget but he has a severe Napoleon complex. Now Buck don't give a damn if the boy has a complex or not but this chief is a turd.

Part of the problem is when he is trying to chew ass his head comes up to where "Moby Dick" likes to rest between laying line if you know what I mean. Anyway this little chief isn't a wimpy little thing but if he ever touched old Buck I'd wrap his colon around his genitals and use him as a curling bar.

Now the little boy chief is kind of big as far as his muscles go but the boy is pure, 100% certified angus full of shit. He's got more fire stories than a room full of volunteers and everybody knows them boys tell some bullshit stories.

Anyway until his spot comes open on "Little People, Big World" I guess us men will have to put up with this boy. Again, I don't have nothing against midgets as long as they don't try to work as firefighters. Or if they do slip by (that cracks me up) then they should at least have the courtesy not to be dicks.

Firefighters Catch It

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 15:00:00 +0000

Here's how to tell you are a firefighter. If you are not the bird, that's you.

Are You Serious? Go Hump A Frog

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 14:48:00 +0000

Today is the first day of the rest of old Buck's fire career. Just returning from a breakfast meeting of all the Captains who know what's going on (it was a table for two) Old Buck is convinced we have a bunch of dipshits in charge.

"No Load Larry" should be a cable guy but instead he is a "Bo-talon Shief". Now Larry is what in technical terms could be called a "dumbass" but instead we call him chief because he "have been gifted with the po-sition. He is well liked by the pukes in charge (Our fearless leaders).

We had a fire with Larry and when he gets there he's screaming for a line. Well, the line was inside the house putting the fire out. I was part of the RIT team (Rapid Intervention Team or Come get me, it's hot as a motherfuc*er). In this position Old Buck was able to watch Larry jump from foot to foot, looking around for help with his "command decisions".

As the men on the ladder started venting Larry yelled "vent it" and as another company did a search he yelled "search it." I was waiting on Larry to tell me to go "RIT It" but he can't give orders until the action is already taking place.

Hell Old Buck coulda put the damn fire out but watching Larry dance around was a lot of pleasure. Larry is so bad they are gonna have to promote him.

That's what they usually do.

The National Fire Academy

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 04:10:00 +0000

When I go to classes at the NFA I feel as though my ass has been probed by the Peruvian Soccer Team. Don't get me wrong, dorks have a place in firefighting and you might as well stick as many as you can in one place but really, is there a need for them to be so anal?

You drop one f-bomb in front of one of the instructors and he gets all nervous. He motioned me to the side and asked me to please refrain from cursing. I asked him to refrain from asking me to refrain. He look flustered and I licked my lips.

I finished the class, passed and now know less about what the feds think than ever before. But now I can join the NFA alumni group. You know, if I want to really lose any credibility with the men on the job.

Communications In 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 15:51:00 +0000

Captain Buck gets tired of dealing with fire alarm operators. Either they can't speak english or they don't take the job serious. Well, there is a third group and they do it well but they only work when I'm not working. The bastards.

Choqania Clamydia, our lead dispatcher, gives us "pacific locations". How can you not say specific. One of my neighbors is from Mexico and he say's it well. Hell he can also pronounce most words better than Choqania.

"Respatcha to engines 61 and latter fo fo."

What? Ladder fo fo doesn't exist. And since when is one engine plural?

"My bad - Respatcha to engines 61, 59, 7tree, and latters fo fo, fo 8, baddalions 6,8, 28

"Responn to 1810 Defrockviynil Avenue fo a fire-a on the secon flo. Smoke comin from an addict."

??

If the addict is burning we are going to need the medics!

"Caller had state the smoke is heavy. Please avise respatcha when contact is made. Copy?"

No.

The Ladder Goes Up

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 05:17:00 +0000

Holy shit have we got a live one assigned to one of our ladders. When they wrote the book on stupid they referenced him and threw away the program.

My buddy is the officer over there and he was telling me that last week he asked dumb ass to tell him how many feet of ground ladders the rig carried. The boy replied 1000 feet. My buddy, not exactly the verbose type, said, "Are you fucking nuts?" Well, it turns out the department ladder guru, Captain "Facade", sent out an email stating just that so the new kid was only repeating what he read.

See, to me, that's the problem now. We are hiring sticks for all the wrong reasons. It used to be you had to be able to do the job and do math. Now, these new guys are walking in and can't figure out shit unless it's done on the Wii.

Well, Wii got problems.

You Backwoods Hick

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 05:12:00 +0000

My mother in law is a hick. She's from a town the size of a graveyard in the backwoods of some shitty state off a two lane blacktop. While she's my wife's mother we just don't get along. She has the personality of a ghetto dyke.

Anyway since I started this word collector thing called a blog I figured it was safe to call her a hick. You know, she won't ever see it because she thinks a computer is anything with a digital clock readout.

So by way of this blog, hello hick.

Cut The Shit, Transmit A Fourth Alarm

noreply@blogger.com (Captain Buck Turdgeson) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 04:57:00 +0000

Somebody forgot to transmit extra alarms last night. I'd like to shove my boot up his ass because I know it would fit. I'm angry like a chief without a take home car, like Madonna without a rod, like a fat woman missing a buffet.

The pork rind serving as the battalion chief just can't ask for help. We could be fighting a fire on the fucking moon and nitwit would stand there looking at the command board trying to orient himself.

What a turd.