His politeness is so exacting it almost makes him come off like a prick. Everything about him is neat, orderly and crisp, in keeping with his Iceman nickname.

“That fucking dress-blues commercial, man, that got so many fucking guys. Now look at us! Trombley hasn’t killed anybody, I am half a world away from good Thai pussy, and Colbert is out here rolling around Fuckbutt, Iraq, hunting for dragons in a MOPP suit that smells like four days of piss and ballsweat. […] You should have rolled into battle with a sword, Brad. That would have fucking rocked.”

“Theologically speaking, Trombley, the world’s been going downhill ever since man first offered entrails to the gods.”

They call Colbert “The Iceman.” Wiry and fair-haired, he makes sarcastic pronouncements in a nasal whine that sounds like comedian David Spade.

“Speed, solitude and no one can touch me.” 

andnowimhere:

Did we call it, Sergeant?