On Christmas Day 2007, David Belniak was involved in a horrific traffic accident in Florida.   David, who was estimated to be traveling at 75-85 mph in a 45 mph zone, slammed his truck into the back of a car which was stopped at a red light. Authorities say that Belniak was driving while intoxicated on alcohol, Xanax and cocaine.  Three people died as a result.

Last August, Belniak pleaded guilty to three counts of DUI manslaughter and was sentenced to 12 years in prison.  During the entire court proceedings Belniak never said a word, not even when the victims’ children asked for an apology.

But he is speaking out now.

Through court documents filed with the state, Belniak is now saying that he is not responsible for the crash and that he should be compensated for his suffering.

Yes, you read that right; Douchetastic Belniak is suing the estate of the victims for his “pain and suffering … mental anguish … loss of capacity for the enjoyment of life” and the medical bills he received as a result of the crash HE caused!  Hey dipshit, what about the “pain and suffering” you caused the families of the victims? Is it not good enough that you killed them because of your stupidity, but now you have to throw in another jab at the surviving families?

The case itself was filed by Belniak’s attorney who also just happens to be his sister. Hmmm, I am starting to wonder … is Douchebaggery hereditary? If so, can we call it Douchebagatosis? It appears to me this family may be infected with it. And since we are already speaking about the family, why don’t I go ahead and throw in the fact that Belniak was listed as an officer in the family construction company, one that has 12 properties in its name.  There is no shortage of money but the brains seem to be lacking in this family.

This isn’t the first time this fuck-nugget has been charged with DUI either. One time in 2003, a Florida police officer found a gallon of the date rape drug GHB in the trunk of Belniak’s car after his arrest for DUI.  Yes, I did say a gallon! For this crime of passion, (well maybe not passion) Belniak pled guilty and spent seventeen months in state prison for trafficking GHB and DUI.

In 1994 Belniak was involved in another “accident” when a pedestrian was killed after being hit by our favorite fucktabulous friend.   Somehow, Belniak was not charged for this event.

It is a good thing you will be driven to the court room by means of a jail transport van; otherwise we would probably be down another innocent family to your antics.  I have seen more responsible decision making in the gaggle of geese currently shitting on my car.

David Belniak, I can no longer speak on the retardedness of you or your family.  I hereby sentence you to Douchebagistan and coronate you Minister of Transportation and Population Control.  It is because of you that we will keep the population of D-Stan in check; all we have to do is give you a company car.

by Mister Twisted

I started to write this article in the vein of the last couple, whereby I would give a rundown of the candidates and how ridiculously bad they all are, but I confess, I lost motivation — and creativity. The simple fact is, I’m sorry.

Why am I sorry? Because I work in politics. And the sad reality is that the political process and what it produces saddens the shit out of me. I talk to people on a daily basis that plead with me by saying things like “why can’t you send out plain, well-written arguments that lay out the facts in black and white?” You know what? I would love to. But the unfortunate truth of the matter is that politics is not about ideas; it’s not about who has the most logic on their side or who has the most well-reasoned argument. Very little of that even matters because it’s about something else entirely.

It’s about marketing.

I’m not joking. If you want to learn how politics truly works, watch a few episodes of the HBO series Mad Men. Now take out the hot red head and that’s what politics really is — sending messages to people through various sources of media that they will ultimately respond to.

It’s the exact same methodology that companies like Pepsi, Nike, Coors, and Ford use. They can’t make an advertisement that lays out all the logical reasons why their product is good because nobody would respond. Instead, they use hot girls, edgy photography, hip music, and a cool catch-phrase to get your attention.

The end result of all of this being, of course, that you see numerous commercials and receive countless emails telling you that the world will, in fact, come to an end if you do not vote for them or their cause. They operate on the premise that you won’t give them money or vote for them unless they scare the crap out of you.

Possibly even more depressing is the reason why political personalities and groups do this — because it works.

Consider that the average American does not study history, has little interest in politics outside their immediate realm, and was never part of the government or those charged with protecting it (hence the .45% Ranger Up shirt). The average American is not what we would call “informed.”

Another way of saying it is, if you’re reading this, you’re not an average American.

You were probably in the military or in law enforcement (or at least know someone who is); you probably take the time to read something every day; you like to be informed; you care about more than just the score of the game; you have drive to be better. If you didn’t have all of this, you wouldn’t come to a site named “Ranger UP!”
So where does this leave people like you and I? People who know that things can be better but are aggravated to no end about the process required to get it that way. I used to carry an M4 through crappy village after crappy village for my country, and now I’m writing fund-raising letters for political causes making less money than I was as an lowly NCO. And that’s saying something. I have to go to a Brazilian jiu jitsu class and have my 300 pound Black Belt instructor kick my ass on a regular basis just so I can feel like I’m doing something.

My point is this: We’re not normal. People who hang out on sites like this and find humor in things like Tim Kennedy answering his door with an M4 and having a plan to kill everyone in the room are a minority. Unfortunately, some of us start feeling pressure to change that “abnormality” in order to conform; to start down the long, dreary road of “compromise.”

Don’t.

Just don’t do it. Embrace the fact that you know more about the world and find “political incorrectness” funny as shit sometimes. Be arrogant about the fact that you know what’s right and you are willing to fight for it. And don’t let the marketing of politicians and interest groups tell you otherwise.

Be informed. Be smarter than the ones running for office and those helping them — it’s not hard, and you’re probably already there. Just don’t feel the need to change it when they say “well, that’s not how we do things here…” The reality is, it should be YOU who are telling them how “we” do things here.

Don’t accept the platitudes of politicians telling you that we need to “compromise” to get things done — we don’t. Call them out on their stances. Check out what they have actually stood for — and more importantly, voted on — in the past instead of listening to them speak or debate. Refuse to accept their fancy speak and slick campaign slogans — vote for what they’ve done, or don’t vote at all.

There will, as usual, be a huge campaign for people to get out and “just vote.” Nonsense. Here’s the blunt truth: crappy politicians who don’t represent you don’t deserve your vote. Make them know it.

Politics, in its essence, is about the adjudication of power. But here’s the ultimate irony: those who understand sacrifice, those who aren’t afraid of the world out there, those who challenge themselves to be better, we already have power. We just need to be careful in who we let share it.

Mr. Twisted

Our good friend, Jorge Rivera

There are some friends who you value so much it is really hard to qualify into words.

I met Jorge Rivera three years ago in the same city where he ended his career: Nashville, Tennessee. For that fight, RU was not his largest sponsor, we were a small company that very few people knew, and given the general state of the MMA industry even now, there was no reason to believe we would even exist for his next fight. Furthermore, while fighters are generally very reclusive and private during the buildup to a fight, Jorge had also just lost his seventeen year old daughter, a pain that I can only imagine, and hope to never have to go through. In short, I didn’t expect any of his attention when I arrived at his hotel door to drop off shirts. I wanted to give him his gear, shake his hand, and get out of his way.

Instead, when that hotel door opened, I was greeted by an incredibly hospitable, thoughtful, and giving person who treated me as if we had known each other for years. He refused to let me excuse myself, introduced me to people in the industry I would have never known otherwise, and was incredibly open about his life. By the end of the day before weigh-ins, I felt like I had known Jorge, Matt Phinney, and Tim Burrill for years. I could see in Jorge a man that had made mistakes in life, but through them had acquired incredible wisdom and perspective, and wanted to impart that on those around him. For a guy who had achieved this level as a professional athlete, I was truly amazed by his humility and kindness.

By the time he entered the cage with Nissen Osterneck, hiding a broken hand and partially dislocated shoulder I might add, I felt like my brother was stepping in there. I don’t remember wanting anyone to win so badly in my life.

And he did.

It wasn’t pretty. He gassed early on and we all thought he’d get finished as a result, but he kept on pushing and pushing and refusing to quit. He did what Jorge does best: he fought.

And I don’t mean that in the sense of MMA. Jorge’s had every reason to give up in his life – sometimes because of self-made bad decisions and sometimes because of chance, but I can tell you honestly, he’s had a rough go at it. What makes him special, and what makes me look up to him, even as I examine situations I’d never be in, is that he has never shied from the struggle. When life hits him, he hits back harder. When he can’t hit anymore, he still manages to stand up. He’s not afraid of the fight – he embraces it.

I can’t explain our relationship exactly. Sponsor is almost an afterthought at this point. For my part, I’ve received middle of the night calls about strategy, business, stress, and anything else you can imagine (Jorge, like me, let’s his mind wander at night and can’t sleep). I’ve been there for the highs like beating a very game Nate Quarry in Charlotte with 50 vets cheering him on. I’ve been there for the lows, like watching my friend get kneed in the head and then be disrespected in Australia. Through it all though, it’s just been an honor to be here, to be counted as one of Jorge’s inner circle and to support him as best I could.

So as I sat cageside and Jorge’s last fight started in the same city our friendship had begun, I just wished to God that he would come out on top. As the fight started, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, as if I was the one about to fight. They began and Jorge had a bad start, but he hung in there, and although he lost the first round, he looked confident going into the second round. He shrugged off a takedown and landed a strong right hand. Moments later, Jorge Rivera’s last fight in the Octagon ended via TKO.

I can honestly tell you I don’t think I would have been happier if the win had been my own.

The first trip to Nashville saw us all go out to a swanky nightclub and party into the night around people we barely knew, seeing people and being seen and all that nonsense. This time around, it was just a small group of us renting out the top floor of a tiny bar: friends, family, and a few loyal vets that have supported Jorge for years.

“I just want to be around the people that matter, Nick,” was Jorge’s guidance.

I remember thinking simply, “I hope to always be on that list.”

Congratulations to a true warrior (in the Cav and in the Cage)on an incredible career. On to the next challenge, sir. We’re here every step of the way.

Love you, brother.

In today’s day and age, we are bombarded with a corrupted image of “peace.” Peace signs appear on clothes and every child has heard in school that violence never solves anything. When war does break out, we see hordes of people marching to oppose it (sometimes using violent means to do so); people who are oblivious to the results of retreat or surrender. Echoing the sentiments that cropped up during the War of 1812, we hear “peace at any price” over and over again, or even the naïve sentiment that there can be no negative results from retreat, only positive; while fighting on to win will be not only bad for the nation but also immoral. They ignore the sentiments of great military minds that understand war more than they ever could, such as Eisenhower who said, “When you appeal to force, there’s one thing you must never do – lose.” They care not that they might be helping people that intend to kill them, as George Orwell explained, “Pacifism is objectively pro-fascist. This is elementary common sense. If you hamper the war effort of one side, you automatically help out that of the other. In practice, ‘he that is not with me is against me.’”

It is easy to understand the repulsion that people feel to violence and war. Dave Grossman explains, with his analogy of sheep, sheepdogs, and wolves, that the vast majority of people are incapable of doing violence to others except under great stress or duress. For those like me, who have seen it first-hand it is horror enough to be described as hell on earth.

It is silent tears shed while standing in a hot metal building, staring at the rifle braced between two boots and holding up a helmet, representing a fallen friend. It is the same emblem tattooed on a back to mark the memory permanently on skin in ink, or a black bracelet with a name and date, or a simple memory of one who fought next to you and never made it home.

War and violence is dead innocents; men, women, and children. It is bodies shredded by a bomb with flesh and bone and guts scattered by the blast of some random explosion in a random and God-forsaken place while blood pools on hot pavement or soaks into thirsty ground. Its bodies pierced with bullets or blades and unbearable agony and fear, suffering and cruelty beyond what any normal person can imagine.

It is also acts of sacrifice, courage, and superhuman bravery and love. It’s the calm smile on an old NCOs face as he crawls over a rooftop for fear of snipers in order to offer his soldiers some more ammunition; or the slightly sadistic grin on his face as superior firepower pounds an enemy’s defenses into dust while he stands there offering his troops the first hot food they’ve tasted in days. It’s a soldier fighting back exhaustion to simply stand his post and watch for a threat that may or may not materialize in the dark. It’s an officer putting a brave face on an impossible situation; men sharing their last bit of water and food with each other along with the raunchiest of jokes to lighten the mood when anyone else would be screaming to be let out of this horror. Its men and women putting their own lives on the line for someone they’ve never met, to try to simply give that person a slight chance at a slightly better existence than what they enjoyed before.

In its simplest form, war is simply killing other people for the sake of one’s country. As General Patton put it, “The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his”. In its simplest form, violence is simply applying force to another to achieve a desired result. George Washington said, “War – an act of violence whose object is to constrain the enemy, to accomplish our will.” In Law Enforcement and the military it’s called “Use of Force”. It’s so effective that we create all sorts of necessary and sometimes self-defeating rules to govern it. If violence never accomplishes anything than why do we have to create rules to control it? “Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor and the contrary opinion are wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and freedoms.” -Robert A. Heinlein. For those who love to quote (and in the case of modern Libertarians, misquote) the founding fathers of America, I offer up the words of Thomas Jefferson; “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants”……

Keep reading “The Case for Violence”

First, let me say that in general, I wholeheartedly support the actions of our service members in their daily duties across this vast world. That being said, when a “grabtastic piece of amphibian shit” rears his ugly head only to steal the oxygen from us and besmirch those who so gallantly stand watch, it is my official duty to not only highlight the douchieness of said individual but to also provide a first class, fucktastic beat-down of epic written proportions.

So… let the games begin!

If you have never heard the name PFC Bradley Manning let me give you brief run-down of his alleged accomplishments, I say alleged as he has not yet been convicted of his endeavors. Bradley joined the Army in October 2007 as an (supposed) intelligence analyst and was initially assigned to Ft. Drum, NY where he worked, I refuse to say served as he was a self-centered twit, with the 10th Mountain Division. It was from there that he was deployed to Iraq in October 2009.

I...do solemly swear...that I'm a douche.

While in Iraq, Bradley–boy had access to top level reports, not just from the military but the entire U.S. This network of information was designed as a specific intelligence clearinghouse to those deemed “worthy” to access it. It was in this network which Mr.-I-do-what-I-fucking-want-without-regard-to-any-one-else-Manning took it upon himself to randomly browse and download to his personal data storage units, including overwriting a CD of Lady GaGa with Top Secret information from the State Department and other agencies. It was only a month into his tour in Iraq that Manning decided to leak all of the information collected to the infamous Wikileaks website (a similarly douchestastic organization).

The information allegedly leaked by Manning was a slew of randomly collected and extremely damaging documents from the U.S. relating to combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as communications from U.S. Embassies across the globe. And it wasn’t only written communiqués that Bradley was leaking, but also videos taken in combat zones.

Bradley’s ex-boyfriend ratted him out to the FBI (never piss off an ex) and he was arrested in May of 2010. He was immediately sent to the jail at Quantico, VA and the pussified activist community immediately started bitching about the quality of his detention as he was essentially placed in solitary confinement due to the structure of the facility. This was repeatedly dismissed by the military as they repeatedly sent numerous inspectors there who had the same conclusion, his detention was lawful and warranted due to the nature of his crimes.

Time has passed and earlier this week, an Article 32 (the military equivalent of a grand jury) found enough evidence to proceed to a Court Martial of PFC Manning. What this means is that this little floating turd is going to trial…yippee-kai-yay! His attorney’s argued that the charges should be reduced so that the Brad-meister would only face 30 years in prison as opposed to the prosecution who wanted life! Well, the extremely sexy, Lady Justice prevailed and Manning faces LIFE when convicted (yes, I carry a positive outlook on this issue) and is set to go to trial in the upcoming months. I will be one happy camper when this shit-tard is flushed into the custody of the Bureau of Prisons!

While I would really, really like to send PFC DipShit to Douchebagistan, I truly believe he is best kept right where we have him….bent over in the shower!

A lot has been said about the current USMC scandal where four Marines were videotaped urinating on dead Taliban fighters. Here’s Chuck Z’s two cents on the subject:

1. Not since weinergate has the wikiLEAKS been so appropriate a website for sharing video.
2. We’ve all had to review the CG’s policy on Laws of Warfare, etc. Pretty sure it didn’t change from the last time I read it, it’s always been not okay to piss on the dead.
3. Not sure if the DADT repeal had anything to do with it, but back in the old days, when we pulled out our dicks for any reason, whoever grabbed a camera was stuffed in a paint locker and thrown down stairs, 4. So, is it okay (in keeping the faith with our muslim brothers) to drag the bodies of the dead through the street, hang them, and then burn them?
5. Aside from law of warfare, I think these marines could use a few lessons in proper aim.
6. The marines can claim PTSD from having watched R-Kelly videos.
7. I really want the prosecuting attorney to ask “Did you know that urinating on the dead would be highly offensive to the Muslims?” So the Marine can respond “Do you know trying to kill me is highly offensive to me?”
8. These guys all need to demand trial by jury–because urine is pretty damned far from desecration, in my book.

Maybe people would be far less apt to get froggy with us if, instead of taking the “high road” and holding ourselves to a higher standard, we made a point of holding ourselves to a far, far more grim standard.

Sure, the high road is where we want to be, and when fighting a civilized country, we should take that road. But when you fight 13th century barbarians, who believe that terror is the best way to fight, then you fight them with terror.

We should pay no heed to their moral or religious beliefs, we should always desecrate their bodies after death in every way possible, and we should do everything we possibly can to insult the religious beliefs of the insurgents before death, because they are NOT good muslims, they are NOT true believers, and they are on a false path.

By treating them and their carcasses with dignity and respect for the way they believe, we actually acknowledge their faith and beliefs as valid–the same faith and beliefs that drive them to attack us.

If instead we said “you have perverted your faith and the teachings of muhammed (Piss Be Upon Him, too), and we will not honor and respect perversion in any way, so welcome to hell, you bastards, our bombs and bullets all contain pig fat and we’ll be burying you all wrapped in chitterlings.” We might have one guy decide that he doesn’t want to risk his eternal soul fighting us. And that’s one less guy we’d have to piss on.

Check out Chuck’s website here

Over the last 12 months we, as well as the rest of the country, have been inundated by the daily onslaught of Douchiness. While we attempt to highlight only the most profound offenders, we also understand that we only scratch the surface when it comes to the general douchebaggery out there. And, even though we have sentenced many, many individuals to Douchebagistan, we still believe in democracy. So much in fact, that we (being the only judge qualified to bring such harsh punishment on deservingly retarded individuals) believe all sentenced jack-wagons have a constitutional right be governed by one of their own and that only an elected official should have the right to govern. That is where you come in.

Below you will see the candidates for Douche of the Year. While the list is not all-inclusive of our illustrious Douche of the Week awards, each has committed some sort of outrageous act that drew our attention to them, which in turn, sentenced them to Douchebagistan. It is your turn to vote in our General Election/Douche of the Year contest. Each nominee is linked to their story and subsequent sentence to purgatory. There is no prize package, other than a few skittles I found in my couch last night, no trophy to display on a mantle nor is there a crown to wear (Douchbagistan is not a monarchy).

To make this a little more interesting, leave a comment on why you are voting for a particular candidate. We have two t-shirts that are looking for a good home and will award them to the most creative comments. Good luck to all the candidates and may the biggest douche win!

Rice University
PFC Naser Abdo
Congress
Knob Hill Homeowners Association
Patti Labelle
Rep. Barney Frank
Professor Michael Avery

UPDATE

And the winner is…

Thanks to all of you for your comments and support for the Rhino Den 1st Annual Douche of the Year award. As we all suspected, it really wasn’t much of a contest at all. Without all of the hoopla and strategically placed commercial breaks to build the suspense…we have a clear cut winner…

THE UNITED STATES CONGRESS
For the next year, this collective group of worthless human excrement has the supreme responsibility (they already have it, just don’t exercise it much) for the training, health and welfare…wait, am I writing an NCOER…anyways…of an ever growing population of douchebags rejected from the great democratic republic of the United States of America and sentenced to a life of douchiness in Douchebagistan.

The relocation of our congress to Douchebagistan becomes a little more bitter sweet as recent studies show that the personal wealth gap between our elected leaders and their constituents is growing at an alarming rate. Half of all our members of congress are considered millionaires and their combined median net worth is $913,000 whereas the average net worth of an American family is $100,000. It maybe just me, but I guess the whole “of the people, for the people” concept has kind of gone the way of the flobee… history. We won’t continue to bash Congress on their day of glory, but let it be said that we are imposing a term limit of 1 year for this distinguishing award. Otherwise there would be no other winner… ever!

Congratulations Congress, you have consistently proven time and time again that you truly deserve to lead Douchebagistan into 2012.

Thanks to all who left comments and voted. As promised, the winners are: VERMONT and DS ALLEN. Please email me at: ru.damnright@gmail.com so I can set you up with your free shit!

This whole shit storm was incited by one little email from Professor Avery in response to a school wide email requesting donations for holiday care packages to be sent to our brothers and sisters who just happen to be deployed in war zones around the world. For those of you with high blood pressure, you may want to take a little extra dose of medication before you read this so your head doesn’t explode. Avery states in his email “I think it is shameful that it is perceived as legitimate to solicit in an academic institution for support for men and women who have gone overseas to kill other human beings. I understand that there is a residual sympathy for service members, perhaps engendered by support for troops in World War II, or perhaps from when there was a draft and people with few resources to resist were involuntarily sent to battle.”

Really?!? I understand that you are getting up there in age Mikey, but with those years of experience comes knowledge, right? Comparing WWII and Vietnam references to today’s military state is just asinine, especially for a presumed educated man such as you. These brave men and women volunteered to place their life in danger so that you sir have the constitutional right and opportunity to be a shithead.

But it doesn’t stop there, Avery then continues with a tirade on our flag with “We need to be more mindful of what message we are sending as a school. Since Sept. 11 we have had perhaps the largest flag in New England hanging in our atrium. This is not a politically neutral act. Excessive patriotic zeal is a hallmark of national security states. It permits, indeed encourages, excesses in the name of national security, as we saw during the Bush administration, and which continue during the Obama administration.”

So now, not only are you blasphemed for supporting our troops by donating to the cause, the school is also a full-fledged member of the “machine” because it proudly displays a large American flag. Dude, get a fucking clue.

There is a little more to Professor (and I use the term loosely) Avery than what is being reported in the main stream media. McQ at Blackfive dug up a little bit of “The Ave’s” history which includes: the fact that “He’s a Harvard grad who also studied at Moscow University from ‘68 to ‘69 (and that tells you volumes).” He once gave a talk in Cuba (with Fidel Castro in attendance) entitled “The Hypocrisy of US Policy Towards Terrorism.”

So to sum it all up, we have a douchebag who likes to spew his hatred for our service members, ridicule an academic institution for their display of the American flag, and has a history of communism. Hmmm, I may be stepping out of bounds here but…if it looks like a commie, sounds like a commie, acts like a commie, we just may have a fucking commie amongst us!

Hey dicksmack – why don’t you head on over to Starbucks and get a hot, fresh, cup of WAKE THE FUCK UP! This is America, we love our service-members and appreciate that they, not you, have the gumption to Ranger the Fuck Up and go where you are too scared to go. Be a good little boy and do what your mommy said, “if you haven’t anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” But I guess this advice is just a little too late.
Michael Avery, I hereby sentence you Douchebagistan – as you wait in line for moldy bread, you can spew your silly little views on life and have the company of many, many politically-retarded, like minded individuals.

J.R. Martinez is a name many will not immediately recognize. A veteran of the Iraqi war, his life mirrors a recent shirt from Ranger Up that states “All men are created equal; it’s what they do from there that matters.” His is a story that is not often told, but to those who hear it, is an inspiration.

The struggles in his life began as a child. Born to a single mother who immigrated to the United States from a war-torn El Salvador in the early 1980’s, Martinez has faced adversity since birth. He took that hardship and turned it into motivation, playing football for a state champion high school team in Georgia. His dreams were to receive a scholarship to continue his education and play collegiately and eventually play professional football. Those dreams however, were cut short due to an injury his senior year of high school.

Not one to sit around and do nothing, Martinez joined the Army, attended basic and advanced training at Ft. Benning, Georgia and was awarded the military occupational specialty of 11-Bang Bang, the infamous Infantryman. His first assignment was to the 2-502 Infantry of the 101st Airborne Division in Ft. Campbell where he reported for duty in January 2003. A mere three months later, Martinez and his Battalion were deployed to Iraq.

Just weeks into his tour, Martinez and his platoon were on a vehicular patrol when the Humvee struck a buried land-mine with the left front wheel. The three other occupants were ejected from the vehicle, but Martinez was trapped, unable to escape. His body engulfed in flames and lungs filled with smoke; Martinez was finally rescued by his fellow soldiers; amidst the screams and the inability to open his eyes, Martinez says he had two visions. The first was of his mother who was standing beside a grave with a folded military flag. The second was of a sister who had died at an early age, before Martinez met her. His sister told Martinez that he couldn’t go because their mother needed him.

Martinez was placed in a medically induced coma and was transported first to Landstuhl, Germany and eventually to Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, TX. It was three weeks later that Martinez awoke to his mother at his side and it was Texas that Martinez would call home for the next 34 months. Martinez would endure countless surgeries and begin the healing, not just physically but emotionally.

The lowest point in his recovery was when he was able to see his scarred face for the first time. Being nineteen years his biggest fear was not being able to get girls…a valid concern for any red blooded American male. After speaking endlessly to his mother, Martinez realized that it was a blessing and that he was sparred death for a greater purpose. Soon he was approached by one of the nurses who asked him to speak to another extremely depressed soldier who was dealing with injuries similar to his own. It took 45 minutes for Martinez to turn his comrade around and make a life-changing realization of his own. He was meant to do this.

Over the next several years, Martinez began touring as a motivational speaker to those who had also suffered traumatic injuries. Seeing Martinez in the halls of Walter Reed and BAMC was commonplace. He touched the lives of many a veteran and helped them through their lowest points, like a good leader, providing purpose, direction and motivation. It was this leadership that induced the Iraq Afghanistan Veterans of America (IAVA) to award him with the Veteran Leadership Award.

His work with veterans created opportunities for Martinez as well. In 2008, he was cast as Brot Monroe on the ABC’s daytime drama All My Children. A part created specifically for him, Martinez’ role was that of an Iraqi Veteran who had suffered debilitating injuries during the war. Afraid of what his fiancée is going to think of his appearance, Brot fakes his death and then comes back to see the consequences of the act, all in typical daytime drama fashion.

Currently, you can see Martinez on Dancing with the Stars on ABC where is paired with professional dance and beauty Karina Smirnoff (and he thought he’d never be able to get hot chicks). He also continues to be a motivational speaker to all that will listen and is completely comfortable with his “new and improved” face.

It is people like J.R. Martinez, overcoming adversity, taking the bull by the horns, and making the best of what he has that inspire us. For that, we award him with the Ranger Up Hero of the Week.

This weekend, as the clock struck midnight, Ranger Up launched our new Rugby brand, American Sin Bin.   It’s an idea that sprung up as early as January 2008, when then LTC Kelly Crigger invested in a fledgling Ranger Up.  At the time, there was frankly no way in hell that we could handle the idea.  We were a small apparel company focused on existing.

I was working a corporate job during the day and Ranger Up every night until about 2AM.  Tommy was living in the spare bedroom of my old house and getting paid in high-fives and attaboys and whatever we could spare after the bills were paid.

Nearly four years later, we find ourselves with an amazing operations team, an incredibly talented design team, and frankly, all of you – an Army of incredible support (and candid criticism when we deserve it) and we’re about to take on an incredible challenge – we’re going to set the conditions to bring home a Rugby World Cup Championship.

To people in the Rugby community, this may seem like an absurd notion, but that’s how we like to roll. The same month Crigger decided to invest in our idea the first article was written about RU in the Fayetteville Observer.  They asked me when I decided to start an apparel company.  I answered the same way that I do now: “Ranger Up isn’t an apparel company.  We’re a force created to make a difference in the veteran and military community.” I went on to say that they’d see us making some serious inroads in the non-profit community and eventually have the ability to affect change in government.

A lot of people wrote in online and scoffed at the idea.  One in particular, pissed me off:  “Give me a break.  These guys make funny t-shirts.  It takes a lot more than that to make a difference.  They need to get over themselves.”  I keep that quote on the Desktop of my computer.

I don’t really care what people think about me or our company.  I never have.  I revel in some people hating us, to be honest.  But I am a patriot and I look often to our nation’s past.  I find people who aggressively try to stamp out the efforts of others to be the lowest form of human parasite.  Not only do they not do for themselves and chase their own dreams, but they attempt to dissuade others from conquering their own.  This country was founded on the principle that one man can make a difference.  We are a land of opportunity – a land of frontiersmen cutting our current world out of the wilderness.  We are the world’s immigrants, arriving by sea, land and air, hoping and fighting for something more.  We can do anything, so long as we don’t quit, so long as we don’t allow ourselves excuses, so long as we don’t allow pessimism and self-hatred to stamp out the passion for something better.

Fast forward to present day. Ranger Up is a multi-million dollar company that has donated hundreds of thousands of dollars in apparel and cash to military charities, I have been honored to be elected to the Board of Advisors for Soldiers’ Angels, we’re working on developing a Veteran Housing Program as well as an Entrepreneurial Bootcamp for Vets, and we’re ready to take on the next challenge.

With that in mind, I am thrilled to announce that we’ve successfully lured New York Times Bestselling Author Kelly Crigger away from the public relations world and he has accepted a fulltime role as President of American Sin Bin.  If you’re a Rugger, know that this means we are guaranteed success because the man may be more of a workaholic than I am and twice as talented.  If you aren’t a rugger and find this American Sin Bin stuff to be a nuisance, know that RU has 100% of my attention and we’re going to keep pushing in some amazing directions in the next 365.

If you’re asking “Why are you sharing this?” it’s for the same reason that Tom and I personally answer every message sent our way on Facebook, Twitter, email, etc.  As I said in 2008, Ranger Up isn’t a t-shirt company. It’s the idea that motivated patriots can make a difference.  And this very important idea doesn’t work
without you.  We believe Ranger Up is your company too.  And I always want you to know what is going on in your company and why we are doing it.

Thank you, as always, for your support (and criticism).

RLTW

Nick