In basic training we had the stupidest drill sergeant possible. I think it was done on purpose because fourth platoon was derided by the rest of the company as “the aighead platoon.” All of us were bound for language training and/or the Army Intelligence Center, which of course to a combat engineer or truck driver immediately equates with “buncha pussies.” So Staff Sergeant Campbell was visited upon us, dumb as a hake.
All drill sergeants must pass rigorous courses in Drill Sergeant School in areas like Browbeating & Belittling, so all of them had a series of ready-made epithets to hurl at slow, lazy, or eggheaded trainees. This idea should be familiar from films like “Full Metal Jacket” and so on, but I never heard the word maggot thrown around. Instead, the abuse followed this very simple formula:
“Whudda yew lookin’ at, + [epithet] where [epithet] = [accoladic noun + ironic delivery] + ?”
This typically fell within very narrow parameters and yielded results such as “Whudda yew lookin’ at, HE-RO?” although “Whudda yew lookin’ at, KILLERRRR?” was also popular, and of course if your collar was up you could count on “Whudda yew lookin’ at, ELVIS?” The dripping ladleful of irony was lost on no one, egghead or not. Except maybe Sergeant Campbell, because he did not follow the formula they taught in Browbeating & Belittling. His formula differed radically in the second element and looked like this:
“Whudda yew lookin’ at, + [epithet] where [epithet] = [nonsensical proper/compound noun generated at random + sincerity] + ?”
Sadly, the list of epithets, which we as diligent Intelligence eggheads collected avidly, has been lost in the mists of time. The only one that I can recall for sure, with absolute clarity, was Mr. Peabody. I thought for a while that Jar-Jar Binks was also on the list, but that turned out be apocryphal and, what’s more, chronologically impossible. We have no idea how Sergeant Campbell’s random-name-generator worked.
But! Through the magic of Javascript, we can re-create the experience of a browbeating from Sergeant Campbell. Just click on the first half of the belittling formula to generate a random Campbellian epithet. (Note to parents: this device also works well if the first element is changed from Whudda yew lookin’ at to How ’bout we change that diaper.)
Vote for your favorite epithet in the comments.
18 Responses
You can subscribe to comments on this post
July 27th, 2005 at 14.28 CEST+2.00
The name generator has me weeping with laughter.
What I have always hated about this pic is that it looks like I’m standing in a hole. Fucking Hyde, Hyde, The Cow’s Outside looks a foot taller. Makes me want to kick Whoopi Goldberg down a flight of stairs.
Any further mention of Campbell should include his fondess for white women, smoking crack and adding packets of sugar to Coca-Cola.
July 27th, 2005 at 15.56 CEST+2.00
I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Rashid, as only someone who experienced SSG Campbell really could.
Thanks for reminding me of his other salient traits — I had honestly forgotten that we were convinced he was actually full-time on the pipe. Rest assured that I am not done discussing him.
July 27th, 2005 at 20.53 CEST+2.00
JD-
Perhaps my favorite memory from time with you in Montana was inspired by Campbell:
“Clark and Lewis didn’t need no goretex. Clark and Lewis didn’t need no bear bag. Clark and Lewis didn’t hike out for no fish-n-chips”.
July 27th, 2005 at 22.43 CEST+2.00
Well done, MacGregor. That was classic Campbell. Except that he always referred to them as “ol’ Clark and Lewis.”
July 28th, 2005 at 05.09 CEST+2.00
Barber of Seville?
I think I am going to use that when I go off to change my son’s diaper.
“How ’bout we change that diaper, Barber of Seville?”
Or Groundskeeper Willy. I can’t decide.
July 28th, 2005 at 17.39 CEST+2.00
I, too, have to cast a vote for Barber of Seville, in large part because I imagine your Sgt. Campbell pronouncing it “SEEEE-vill.”
July 28th, 2005 at 21.46 CEST+2.00
Yes, but today I got “Puss in Boots”, so I may have a new favorite. This one may, however, have some grounding in reality (unlike “Barber of Seville”): you were a puss, in boots.
July 28th, 2005 at 22.09 CEST+2.00
I am a puss for NO MAN.
For Magda, on the other hand, I am all kinds of puss.
And: I have found that this kind of JavaRig is obsessive-compulsive-inducing, and there are now fully twice as many random epithet-possibilities as there were yesterday. You don’t have to choose, see? In fact, keep coming back and seeing what new interpersonal spaces this device can help you to explore with your diaper-aged children and/or eggheaded charges. Keep spinning, man.
July 29th, 2005 at 03.30 CEST+2.00
Ahem.
I’m not a man, Vlad the Impaler.
July 30th, 2005 at 17.21 CEST+2.00
Yesterday I found myself muttering [a variant] “Whutchew lookin’ at, Petruchio?” and I realized I’d better lance this boil before it built to a head:
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Struwwelpeter?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Robert Mulligan?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Babe Didrikson Zaharias?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Springheel Jack?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Laocoön?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Otto Preminger?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Artemisia Gentileschi?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Erich von Däniken?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Dorothy Parker?
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Catherine of Aragon?
Phew, that’s better.
July 30th, 2005 at 21.50 CEST+2.00
Thanks for the additions, but beeotch, “Dorothy Parker” is in there. Just goes to show you haven’t been playing the Sgt. Campbell slot machine quite enough. Or have a life. Which permit me respectfully to doubt.
July 30th, 2005 at 23.19 CEST+2.00
My [as the young persons say] bad: that was supposed to be:
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Dorothy L. Sayers?
She’s much eggheadier. Much more eggheady. Eggheadiest!
July 31st, 2005 at 00.40 CEST+2.00
And the list goes on.
Whudda yew looking at…
…Rollo Tomassi?
…Pitt the Elder?
…Evil Spock?
…Charles Foster Kane?
…Tommy Lasorda?
…Chim-Chim?
…Nathan Arizona?
…Commander Adama?
…Christopher Hitchens?
…Dwight Yoakam?
…Elian Gonzalez?
…Frank Gorshin?
…Barry Goldwater?
…Harvey Birdman?
…Janeane Garafalo?
…Odysseus?
…Venn Diagram?
…Dick Trickle?
…Snidely Whiplash?
…Ravi Shankar?
…John Galt?
…Buford T. Justice?
…Slartibartfast?
…Roland,The Headless Thompson Gunner?
July 31st, 2005 at 17.14 CEST+2.00
…Napoleon Chagnon?
…Stanislaw Lem?
…Artemesia Gentileschi?
…Judge Roy Bean?
…Olga da Polga?
…Queen of the May?
…Egil Skallagrimsson?
…M.F.K. Fisher?
…Sugarlips Shapiro?
…Edith Head?
…Louis Comfort Tiffany?
…Equipoise?
…Delores Haze?
Oh, sweet fancy Moses, make it stop.
Whudda yew lookin’ at, Sweet Fancy Moses?
July 31st, 2005 at 21.57 CEST+2.00
But I have to deduct some points from some of the above entries for the way they simply do not roll off the tongue. Were one to actually use some of these, the tongue would stumble and falter, thereby rendering what should be an nonsensical tour de force of an epithet, well, somewhat blah. You don’t want the oomph of your belittling to the mere physical details of enunciation.
But I shouldn’t talk. I have changed the very nature of this exercise by making all of these terms of endearment. I say to my husband and son, both of whom are puzzled (although my Japanese husband more than my four-month-old son, I must say), “I love you, Groundskeeper Willy.” Who needs ‘honey’ or ‘dear’?
August 1st, 2005 at 02.05 CEST+2.00
I still like Mr. Peabody best.
August 1st, 2005 at 07.58 CEST+2.00
Thanks for the additions. As you can now well and truly see, there is an element of recursiveness to this exercise.
As for Mr. Peabody, well, it’s hard to argue with the only epithet that we know for a fact came directly from the man himself (and was directed toward the guy in the platoon who looked exactly like Gary Coleman).
August 1st, 2005 at 13.20 CEST+2.00
As I recall, we were confounded by the name Mr. Peabody. It seemed to be a slam dunk to call this faux Gary Coleman “Arnold”. SSG Campbell worked in mysterious ways.