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| The American Civil War |
September 14, 1863
Entry 34
On the shit since the 7th off and on and are now huddled near Middletown, MD. I been had the shits like fifty negro fists been growing from my crack. According to reports sent to me on assy toilet paper, we are attached to Reno’s Division of Gen. Burnside’s 9th Corps. When I read this I flipped my shit, fired my musket in the air and burned up our field surgeon's tent. Was some little fighting yesterday between us and the rebels under Jackson near Frederick, MD. I stood on a crumbling fence and whirled my hat around whooping and hollering like a mad bitch. Some of the fighters stopped and turned to look at me but I'd hidden a cannon full of grape shot in the bushes so when they mooned me I lit the fucker off and filled the white assholes full of lead. They laid in the field whining like horses. I laughed until my brains fell out in the toilet.
September 16th, 1863
Entry 35
I smuggled some lsd into the regiment and we had a fucking party. I beat to death a young private, then forced Captain Reno to rape the corpse at gun point. What a ham.
December 24th, 1983
Entry 36
Go ducks or roast beef in the TENT cocaine from fuKCIN LARRY
September 20th, 1863
Entry 37
Real fucking eary was opened with the farting of cannon and during the day, assholes have been passing by our camp in one continued line. I keep sneaking up on the youngsters and pantsing them. It's gross because many of them are suffering from anal grout, among other nauseating sicknesses. It is hard to feel it the Sabbath. I only say this because I was smoking a ralph doobie and a lot of the assholes wanted a hit and instead I beat down this dumb ass stable ossler just to show everyone I am man. Prospects of our getting into action before night multiply causing a sort of feverish excitement to come over me. I barfed and barfed until the light of dawn and we are low on rations (we aren't I just been hiding all the food for my fat pimply ass). Help me my dinky Father to do my shittin' in style for the glory of Christ’s sake, Amen. I will masturbate to your glorious bone.
September 21st, 1863
Entry 38
In one of the churches of the town is some of the rebel retards from the battle of yesterday. I took turns with my men, pissing and shitting on each and every man on the floor. Tears come into my eyes as I think of home and of the peaceful Sabbath there enjoyed. FaGGOTS
(Several pages torn out)October 29th, 1863
Entry 39
Weeks have gone by since writing last. They have been shitty ones to me, full of God’s stinking goodness and turkey. I have been stoned out of my mind. A good deal of the time I have been unable to write. Instead I've been drawing charicatures of Jerry Lee Lewis and Don King. The remaining time I have been indisposed to it, mostly because of this horrendous diarrhea many of us have contracted due to the shit burritos I made a month ago. At near 4 PM September 22nd our brigade was ordered to the front by some drunkard with a wand. I told him to go take a shit, but my boys just ran off in the direction this shitbird was pointing that god damn wand. Where did he get that wand, I wonder. Anywho, a rough march of some 4 miles brought us to the scene of conflict. I stopped for a beer at this little hut, built into the side of a river. Some crazy bastard was selling hooch out of the shoes of dead soldiers. I only stayed for about two hours. I stumbled my runny ass back up the river back and on my way I met many wounded being carried to the rear and as we neared the battleground here and there a dead body was to be seen. I went through as many pockets as possible and came up with about forty cents. THAT pissed me off. At little after 5 PM, the booming of artillery the screaming of shot and shell and rattling of musketry told me we were mid the stern realities of actual battle. I began shouting semantics and other unpleasantries at the passing troops. Then, the sight of the dead a kind sent me into a violent, rancid, vomiting spiral. Main feelings of curiosity and wonder at the scene about me took hold of my mind and I found myself jerking the horn again. After dousing my rancid erection with soldering fluids I'd "ganked" from some dickhead's shit wagon, we were drawn up in the line of battle in a cornfield. We all advanced through a sort of wooden field to a thick wood where we met the rebel scum or a few scattering dumbfucks with toilet paper tails in tow, for their main body was on the retreat. In entering the wood came upon a large number of rebel dead lying in a ravine, presenting a sad and sickening sight I shooed in my pantaloon with such force, my britches opened like a bursting damn sending several of my comrades to the rear of our flank. A drowsiness washed over me and must of passed out because I remember nothing of the remainder of the day.
October 30th, 1863
Entry 40
When I came out of my whoreish trance, the Confederates were making an advance upon our lines. My ex-husband, Rolf, pulled my up by the crotch and shoved me toward the ravine where everyone in the battalion was keeled over, wretching into the gaping hole. "Still my burritos?" I said a fright, but Ralph only pushed me on. But when crossing the ravine, we were met by a volley from the 17th Michigan which so thinned our ranks that on that part of our line we made a precipitate retreat. Some idiot came dancing by me screaming "LOOK IMA JELLYCOPTER!" For the fun of it, I tripped him and he went head over heels, screaming those ridiculous words, down into the trench of hell. Some douchebag in a plaid skirt with a sword the size of my house yelled at us to take cover in the wood. I put out the bob marley I was sucking on for dear life and charged after my retreating countrymen. Just after we entered the wood, some cronk bone ripped the nastiness and I was distracted. I blame that sonofawhore to this day. Was wounded by a rifle ball passing through my left leg just opposite the pulsating flesh pipe. As the ball struck me it gave me a shock which led me to feel at first that the bone must have been struck and shattered and for a moment did not dare to move for fear it was so. "YOOU PONTIFICATING HORSE COK!" I belched into the sky. Found on moving that the bone was not injured and that I had only a flesh wound, which relieved my mind and thankfulness to God that I was not maimed or dangerously hurt came, especially after the 25 ccs of heroin I shot into my left eye. Convinced that the shot must have been fired by some straggling rebel numbnut or sharpshootin' shitbird in a tree, as we had not yet got up to within reach of the rebel lines, I writhed with a vengeance. After masturbating fiercely to a torn postcard of my brother-in-law and his small dog, "Groldo" I leaped up and began to run at the rebel donks. Found myself in a few moments growing weak and tying my jockstrap above the wound to stop its bleeding tried to make for the rear where the surgeons were. As I was limping off a wounded rebel who was sitting against a tree called me and asked me if I did not have something to eat. Exhibiting a loaf and going to him I opened my knife to cut off a slice when he placed his hands before his face exclaiming “Don’t kill me” and begging me to put up the knife and not to hurt him. I smiled a little at the rube and produced my disgusting pecker for his approval. He shrieked in horror and held his nose. I back handed him and told him to act like a man. He did so, sheepishly as if it were his first time. I knew though, after the next three hours of loving, it was not his first. His name was Gary and I loved him. Regardless, when I finished, I shoved my musket into his crotch and said, "Blessed are those who keep their mouths shut." I pulled the trigger, a loud crack reverberating through the valley. Gary pitched forward, uttering an "OOF" before curling into a ball and blubbering about his horse or some shit before eventually passing. I urinated on his corps, cringed when a little piss dribbled into my open, pus wound. After wandering around like a madman and after grabbing many a men by the collars, shouting at them that I was "CEASAR, THE INVENTOR OF TIME" I eventually made my way into some sort of shit medical camp.
Halloween, 1863
Entry 41
On October 31st, through some sort of sick prank by the surgeon, my name was placed upon the list of those to be sent off to join their regiments and though screaming and crying about being sent away until my wound was fuckin' healed, was shipped off to the god damn Convalescent Camp at Alexandria. My wound was still dripping pus and phlegm and all sorts of shitty mess either where the ball had entered or passed out. After forcing some dainty orderly to massage my scrotum, was obliged to have it have it dressed that morning. But the surgeon rather than take the trouble to alter the “papers” he had made out told me I was a moronic, unhappy little man and that being sent of with a "diarrhea knub" was exactly what I needed. Regretted this very much for I had hoped to stay until fully well. I flipped him off while tugging on my sweat spot and off into the world A LIPPING I WENT ALL THOSE SICK BASTARDS THEY WILL PAY FOR THEIR TREACHERY. (Have had many pleasant calls upon me from whores in the city, which have brought me many delicacies especially fruit-laced condoms and meth.)
November 5th, 1863
Final Entry
Found here my quarters were to be in a crowded toilet and obliged to lie upon human and turkey filth for I believe we are in some sort of turkey farm because the retched filth foul are amok and loud and abrasive. I asked one bird to kindly not goof on my noot noots, but the assmaster did it anyway. Went to the surgeon and showing him my cornpole then asked if I could not have some quarters where I could have something or other for bedding. He told me to "go suck an egg" and that he'd "seen better." I scuffled off into the darkness, pants around my ankles, sucking my thumb and crying. They turkeys have sucked all will from my soul. Tonight I will commit the worst of all sins and kill myself by eating a turkey while he is still alive in the most raw possible way. I bid you adieu, my sweet caring rat [sic] BRANSO! MEDICCIS
When I came out of my whoreish trance, the Confederates were making an advance upon our lines. My ex-husband, Rolf, pulled my up by the crotch and shoved me toward the ravine where everyone in the battalion was keeled over, wretching into the gaping hole. "Still my burritos?" I said a fright, but Ralph only pushed me on. But when crossing the ravine, we were met by a volley from the 17th Michigan which so thinned our ranks that on that part of our line we made a precipitate retreat. Some idiot came dancing by me screaming "LOOK IMA JELLYCOPTER!" For the fun of it, I tripped him and he went head over heels, screaming those ridiculous words, down into the trench of hell. Some douchebag in a plaid skirt with a sword the size of my house yelled at us to take cover in the wood. I put out the bob marley I was sucking on for dear life and charged after my retreating countrymen. Just after we entered the wood, some cronk bone ripped the nastiness and I was distracted. I blame that sonofawhore to this day. Was wounded by a rifle ball passing through my left leg just opposite the pulsating flesh pipe. As the ball struck me it gave me a shock which led me to feel at first that the bone must have been struck and shattered and for a moment did not dare to move for fear it was so. "YOOU PONTIFICATING HORSE COK!" I belched into the sky. Found on moving that the bone was not injured and that I had only a flesh wound, which relieved my mind and thankfulness to God that I was not maimed or dangerously hurt came, especially after the 25 ccs of heroin I shot into my left eye. Convinced that the shot must have been fired by some straggling rebel numbnut or sharpshootin' shitbird in a tree, as we had not yet got up to within reach of the rebel lines, I writhed with a vengeance. After masturbating fiercely to a torn postcard of my brother-in-law and his small dog, "Groldo" I leaped up and began to run at the rebel donks. Found myself in a few moments growing weak and tying my jockstrap above the wound to stop its bleeding tried to make for the rear where the surgeons were. As I was limping off a wounded rebel who was sitting against a tree called me and asked me if I did not have something to eat. Exhibiting a loaf and going to him I opened my knife to cut off a slice when he placed his hands before his face exclaiming “Don’t kill me” and begging me to put up the knife and not to hurt him. I smiled a little at the rube and produced my disgusting pecker for his approval. He shrieked in horror and held his nose. I back handed him and told him to act like a man. He did so, sheepishly as if it were his first time. I knew though, after the next three hours of loving, it was not his first. His name was Gary and I loved him. Regardless, when I finished, I shoved my musket into his crotch and said, "Blessed are those who keep their mouths shut." I pulled the trigger, a loud crack reverberating through the valley. Gary pitched forward, uttering an "OOF" before curling into a ball and blubbering about his horse or some shit before eventually passing. I urinated on his corps, cringed when a little piss dribbled into my open, pus wound. After wandering around like a madman and after grabbing many a men by the collars, shouting at them that I was "CEASAR, THE INVENTOR OF TIME" I eventually made my way into some sort of shit medical camp.
Halloween, 1863
Entry 41
On October 31st, through some sort of sick prank by the surgeon, my name was placed upon the list of those to be sent off to join their regiments and though screaming and crying about being sent away until my wound was fuckin' healed, was shipped off to the god damn Convalescent Camp at Alexandria. My wound was still dripping pus and phlegm and all sorts of shitty mess either where the ball had entered or passed out. After forcing some dainty orderly to massage my scrotum, was obliged to have it have it dressed that morning. But the surgeon rather than take the trouble to alter the “papers” he had made out told me I was a moronic, unhappy little man and that being sent of with a "diarrhea knub" was exactly what I needed. Regretted this very much for I had hoped to stay until fully well. I flipped him off while tugging on my sweat spot and off into the world A LIPPING I WENT ALL THOSE SICK BASTARDS THEY WILL PAY FOR THEIR TREACHERY. (Have had many pleasant calls upon me from whores in the city, which have brought me many delicacies especially fruit-laced condoms and meth.)
November 5th, 1863
Final Entry
Found here my quarters were to be in a crowded toilet and obliged to lie upon human and turkey filth for I believe we are in some sort of turkey farm because the retched filth foul are amok and loud and abrasive. I asked one bird to kindly not goof on my noot noots, but the assmaster did it anyway. Went to the surgeon and showing him my cornpole then asked if I could not have some quarters where I could have something or other for bedding. He told me to "go suck an egg" and that he'd "seen better." I scuffled off into the darkness, pants around my ankles, sucking my thumb and crying. They turkeys have sucked all will from my soul. Tonight I will commit the worst of all sins and kill myself by eating a turkey while he is still alive in the most raw possible way. I bid you adieu, my sweet caring rat [sic] BRANSO! MEDICCIS