New Installment: Operation Leapfrog

Everyone knows that in times of war, communication is priority one. Well, in the wake of a recent incident involving our former accounting team and a few Cayman Island tax shelters, DemoWAR budgets have been reassessed.

Updated: DemoWAR HQ Budget Priorities:
1) Pursue, eliminate enemy personnel
...
16) BoyleHunt 2000 [Ongoing]
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23) Start saving for super-cool Acoustic Bazooka

...I'll just flip towards the end of the report:

972-c) Radio Relay Maintenance

See what we're working with? As a result, we're stuck with what I like to call "heirloom" radios, devices of such vintage and antiquity that we live in constant fear that the mobile command unit will turn into a fireball on wheels. Just yesterday, in fact, a high-pitched whine coming from the radio room caught my attention. The volume increased to the point of eyeball warbling before ending with a loud pop and a muffled "Ah Christ!" (Thankfully, earlier that week I had the foresight to call on a friend who slathered everything in my office with a flame-retardant gel. "Good timing!" I thought, as the ensuing shower of sparks bounced off my retardant gel-encased face.)

Another consequence of this mesozoic machinery is that our communiques are oftentimes... garbled. Transmissions get through, but not the way they were intended. This week I bring you one such attempt. The following were transcribed by Acting-Ensign Andreson and myself. Admiral Boyle managed to worm his way in as well, and his input was delivered by carrier pigeon not five minutes ago.

The protocol:
Message must be relayed to a soldier with no previous knowledge of the original. Soldier then reinterprets and passes along to the next recipient.

The original message:
Venus.mp3 by Television

This particular message spread like a virus. That is to say, quickly and with much mutation. It moved from Andreson...



to Dowd...


to Boyle.

And you can collect all three in one handy zip file: Venus.zip
Unless federal belts are tightened to the point of moebius strips, this could very well be a recurring series. Keep your eyes and ears peeled. (More Emma than John.)

"Acting-ensign Andreson, reporting for duty, sir!"

Let's see, Andreson...acting-ensign, first class... says here you were stranded behind enemy lines for the past three years, miraculously evading capture by shaving all your body hair, dressing conspicuously and standing creepily behind a dead tree (marsh locations a specialty.) That's a hell of a camouflage technique you got there. We appreciate your, well, your dedication to service and we're glad to have you back.
Let's give a listen to some of the intel you were able to obtain:

Download: Fitzgerald.mp3

Deep cover.

Damn fine work, Andreson! As a token of gratitude, we've scheduled a 21-gun salute to thank you, our new acting-ensign, for your first submission. Ready... aim... Not towards traffic, private! More sort-of...up, I guess. Jesus, don't they teach you anything in basic training? Aim... wait for the birds to pass... Johnson! Did you hear me say "fire"? Grenier, Shipley, grab Johnson. He's got that crazy look in his eye again. Pemberton, is that a flask? Medicine for your "nerves"?! Give me that!

If you troops think this sort of grab-ass is acceptable, let me be the first to tell you it is NOT! If we get kicked off this highway median for disorderly conduct, this will mark the last field trip for the rest of the year. Mark my words! Shoulder your weapons and haul ass back to camp.
Sorry you had to see that, Andreson. We'll kick these idiots into shape and maybe get you a proper salute next time.