Generation Kill.

Reporter: Seriously, what am I supposed to do with all this bullshit you guys constantly talk?
Marine1: Oh, you think I am some racist psycho redneck?
Marine2: What …. you ain’t?
Marine1: Oh, and you ain’t some fucking milk and taco vendor revolutionary?
Marine2: See reporter, no outsider can understand how we really are…
Marine1: We’re all fucking brothers…
Marine2: ….and we’re all fucking Alpha males too…
Marine1: …we got to constantly test each other…
Marine2: All we do is fight for position in the pack, dog. All that training we do, the martial arts, the grappling, is for practice. But… it’s also for real. To achieve dominance over a mother fucker. We do the same thing mentally. It’s prison rules dog. We probe for any fucking weakness we can find. Family, race, brains, looks… anything you have on a mother fucker, you wear it the fuck out.
Marine1: Being a marine ain’t about words anyway. It’s about your fucking actions.
Marine2: Back on the civilian world, a fool slaps a “Protect the Planet”-sticker on his car, suddenly he is all about the environment and shit. Don’t matter that he still drives that fucking car, fires up his computer and videogames and cellphone every night with electricity made from nuclear power, coal and fucking melted babyseal oil. “Nahhh…. I’ve got a bumper sticker on my shit, so I’m all about saving the fucking planet!” In the fucking Marine Core civilisation, it don’t matter what a mother fucker says. Only thing that matters is dog, when you charge that mother fucking machine gun when the mother fucker tells you to charge the mother fucking machine gun.
Marine1: Shit, everybody in this platoon is a hard charger. Marines bitch about everything man. Chow, fucking moron officers, no time for a combat jack… but you will never hear a marine in this platoon bitch that we could die at any second.
Marine2: Hell NO!
Marine1: That’s what we signed up for!!
Marine2: Hoeraa that mother fucker!
Marine1: Who fucking cares if some Latté sipping bisexual college student reading about Justin Timberlake and Rolling Stones think I’m a psycho racist cracker? Fuck no! I’d give my life for any brother in here. I know anyone of them would do the same for me. You think it matters if I call fucking T a nigger? Phttt… I fucking love that big dark green marine and his big old beautiful niggerdick.
Marine2: Hehehehe!!!
Marine1: I love all my dirty spick brothers here!
Marine2: And I love this fucking cracker ass inbred racist peckerwood fuck! I don’t know why I do dog… but I do…
Marine1: Cause I’m pretty and I shave my balls. You wanna touch them reporter?
Reporter: Uhmmm….no… thanks….
Marine1: Look man, I joined the Marine Core ten days after I graduated high school. I went to school with all these rich kids at St. (Tanidy’s?) Parish, but I was an apartment kid. My mom worked, I worked summers diggin (footings?) on the weekends. I was a dishwasher at DiAngelo’s Pizzeria, I busted my ass, became a reckon Marine since I was 19, which is tight as fuck, I know that, my brothers in this platoon knows that, so fuck all of you! [spits]
Marine2: Damn… You just spit on my fucking rag dog….
Marine1: Where?
Marine2: There! You see that pile of dried camel dung? That’s my fucking pillow dog!! You fucking spit on it fool! You’re a heinous ass white boy!
Marine1: Sorry!!
Marine2: Phttt….