You're going to have to go past the jump to get the full majesty of our mustache of the day. Also, please see part one of our MMA Misadventure for The Amateur over on TSB. WIth that: Mustachery...
Happy Mustache Wednesday, Motherfuckers! I'M GAY.
Oh, Gung-Ho: how you played to all audiences at once. For those of us who worship the lords of chaos, you ventured into battle with the natural choice of a warrior wanting to take care of his enemies at close range: the grenade launcher, the obvious sidearm for someone who wants to send high-explosives skittering around their person like so many giddy satanic lottery balls.
The pistol? Mostly for show. It contains one bullet, and it has the word "Gung-Ho" on it. It's in case he ever meets someone more awesome or sexy than he is. He's never even touched the grip, though. Go ahead and dust it for prints, asshole.
You also didn't wear a shirt, because you had big pecs, a badass tattoo, and because shirts were for prancing nancies like Duke (or god forbid that twat Flint.) Ditto for helmets: if shrapnel wants lunch, it can try taking a bite out of your adamantine skull. It'll get a chew toy called INDESTRUCTIBLE MARINE. Brain injuries make your dick bigger, anyway. (Just like the ones you'd probably get rolling into a building and discharging a grenade launcher willy-nilly as Gung-Ho looks so very ready to do.)
About that chest, though: doesn't it look a bit hairless for someone with such a magnificent face fermata? As if one had...waxed the hair off it after some fervent benchpressing to thumping house music? Gung-ho wasn't just for fat kids with an early case of SEAL envy such as ourselves; no, Gung-Ho was also obviously gay bait for the junior poofter club, too, his kung fu grip being suitable for either gripping Roadblock's M-60 one-handed (which Gung-ho so obviously is just letting Roadblock borrow for the week) or for choking the throbbing johnson of strange port-meat grabbed in a filthy third world alley.
Either way something's going to explode as it's never exploded before, and Gung-Ho's gonna be smiling afterward, sailor. Take the Marines as imagined by Mika, multiply it times the word "cockmaster", and divide by a Rufus Wainwright song, and that's still not as gay as Gung-Ho is.
For these and so many reasons, Gung-Ho is our Mustache of the Week.
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