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(copyright-free clipart from Dover).
As part of the mid-1990’s force draw-down, we were bringing boatloads of stuff back from military bases in Europe and a lot of it was being off-loaded at Camp Lejeune. For reasons I don’t remember I was part of the planning team for that goat-rope and that meant hauling myself down to the pier several times a week to attend meetings. At one of them we got the extremely unwelcome news that a gypsy moth had been found among the equipment. This was the sort of information that, if substantiated, was going to send the State of North Carolina into conniptions. The atmosphere in the briefing room was a little tense.
An army colonel was sitting next to me. I dunno, maybe he thought I looked like an entomologist.
He: How the *($ do they know it was a gypsy moth?
Me: The tambourines and the tiny gold earrings were a dead giveaway.
He (after a few moments of silence): You little pissant.
Me: Yes, sir.