Monday, April 30, 2012



Heartbroken in Hoboken asks: RAMBO, I have a crush on an older girl at school. She's so beautiful, and I know she's well out of my league. I can't help daydreaming about her, but I was sure she didn't even know I existed. That is until the other day when I overheard she and her friends talking about me and giggling. I have a slight speech impediment, and they were making fun of me, imitating me and so on. I know I should move on, because the object of my affection has turned out to be cruel and shallow, but what can I do? I'm still fixated on her! How can I get over the heartache, RAMBO?

That's rough, heartbroken. I remember this guy I knew in Nam. No more than a kid, really. He would always talk about how when he got back home, he was going to take his Army money and buy a convertible Chevy. Drive it down Route 66 with the top down. He was always laughing and joking, always the clown. Then came the Tet Offensive. He survived, but something inside him died. I never heard him laugh again. He never got that Chevy. Last I heard, he was still in Saigon, playing Russian roulette for money. He never came home, but who can blame him? Can you ever really come home from something like that?

Girls sure are a mystery!
Ever faithful,

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Reading RAMBO

Hey, folks. This week we've got a special edition of Reading RAMBO: A story assignment. Here's how it works: Below the jump, I'll provide you with the beginning of a RAMBO plot. Your mission: Pick up the story where I left off. Send your submissions here. The best ones will find a place on the site!

Monday, April 23, 2012



Guilt-ridden in Grand Rapids asks: RAMBO, I can still see their faces. Hear their screams. Anyone who tells you killing from above as you scream over the Vietnamese jungle in an F-14 is easy is a liar. Have you ever strafed anyone with a 50-cal? All that's left is a reddish mist, and the knowledge that you can never be certain if they were friend or foe. How can I make the nightmares stop, RAMBO? How?

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

The Gore You Know...


As you know, Wednesday is traditionally Reading RAMBO day. But alas, we have not received any submissions this week! Could it be that you've all been beaten into timid submission by the sheer literary force of our previous Reading RAMBO entries? Nevertheless, we have faith in you. Somewhere out there there's a RAMBO sequel gestating that will shake the very foundations of existence when it's finally born. Could it be yours? Email us here.
In the meantime, howzabout some sweet, sweet RAMBO fast facts?

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The Art of War

Today's Art of War is once again brought to you courtesy of our upcoming RAMBO cartoon. Here's another small taste ahead of the world premiere of RAMBO XVI. Make sure to tune in on Thursday. It's going to explode your eyeballs.

Monday, April 16, 2012



Ticked Off in Tulsa writes: RAMBO, I have a neighbor who's a bit of a talker. She's always cornering me and subjecting me to long monologues about neighborhood gossip, what her kids are doing, or her (ill-informed) political opinions. I don't like to be unfriendly, but every time she gets going, I can count on at least a 20-minute delay before I can extricate myself. It's gotten to the point that I actually check to make sure she's not out in her yard before I head to my car in the morning. How do I gently let her know that I don't always have time to listen?

Friday, April 13, 2012

My RAMBO of the Week


Finally, a worthy entry to My RAMBO of the Week! Our winner of the $20 Amazon gift card is Matthew Cross, aka Derty Sowf. Derty completely RAMBOed his week, and is well deserving of the title. If you want to make your case as My RAMBO of the Week, email me here. I can't promise a gift card every week, though. What, do ya think I'm made of gift cards?
Last week I laid waste to some of the seediest jungles in the world… Corporate America. I’m stationed in the Accounting Division and like Rambo, I was drastically undervalued. So in the honor of Saint Rambo and Fleetwood Mac, I went my own way and landed two job offers in the same week by nailing two interviews. Both were bountiful raises. Then my company counter-offered by creating a position just for me, paying me more than both offers and letting me work from home. My wife and I celebrated by making an American stew out of three different types of meat and drinking an American brew… Bud Light Lime. Consider this week Rambo’d!!

Derty Sowf

Thursday, April 12, 2012


RAMBO XV: The Legend of Curly's Gold 

As the film opens, we learn that RAMBO has set about forming an all-star, perfectly multi-ethnic dance crew to compete in the world street dance championships. We watch him travel from country to country, recruiting wildly stereotypical dancers by winning their loyalty in a series of dance-offs. Appallingly, the characters are all named after their stereotypical traits.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


This week's READING RAMBO submission comes to us from Cameron Mefford, author of the very first READING RAMBO. Once again, you're in for a story of such towering awesomeness that it should be packaged with anti-head-explosion pills.

RAMBO XXXVII: Tomb of the Medusa Stone 

As the film opens, we see RAMBO sitting in in a dense armchair made out of the bones of his enemies, petting a Bengal tiger. He sits in a room filled with piles of jewels and gold coins. He is wearing a silk robe and a golden crown.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

The Art of War

This week's Art of War is a bit different. Instead of fan art, this week is a sneak preview of things to come on RAMBO of the Week. Below are some stills -- and a trailer -- for our upcoming RAMBO cartoon short, Rambo XX: Kiss of the Dragon Lotus. Watch for it here! In the meantime, here's a taste of what's to come:

Monday, April 9, 2012



Annoyed in Abilene asks: RAMBO, I know it's cliched, but I just can't get along with my mother-in-law! She's constantly showing up unannounced, and has a habit of nitpicking every little thing I do. She always seems to make passive-aggressive remarks about my housekeeping, my cooking or the way I discipline the children. She and my husband are very close, so I'm hesitant to stir up trouble. Should I confront her or just learn to live with it?
Thanks for writing, Annoyed. When taking out an enemy sentry, silence is the watchword. There are many who would advise a high-powered sniper rifle, and there's much to be said for killing from relative safety a quarter-mile away, but I'll never be able to go past the tried and true compound bow. There's something visceral - almost beautiful - in dispatching your quarry with a perfectly targeted steel-tipped harbinger of death. But make sure you hit him directly in the trachea. The last thing you need is his screams alerting others to your presence. Believe me, the look in his eyes as he realises his fate will ring out louder than any scream ever could.

In-laws sure are a pain!
All my love,

Friday, April 6, 2012



Editor's note: Sorry about the missed posts this week, Rambo lovers! Computer problems have held me up, but never fear; guest admin Ryan Smith is now posting material for me. So without further ado, here's this week's RAMBO of the Week!

The film opens in a darkened art studio, illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning. In the centre of the studio, RAMBO stands regarding a gigantic slab of marble.

"The Smithsonian wants this sculpture by Tuesday," he says aloud, in a bit of very forced exposition. "I guess I better get to work."

RAMBO begins to punch the slab of marble, knocking away chunks until it is slowly transformed into a life-sized statue of RAMBO sitting atop a horse.



Note: This week's Ask RAMBO comes to us from Ryan Smith. Thanks, Ryan!

Agnostic in Alabama asks: RAMBO, I was raised in a pretty conservative religious household, and the church has always been a big part of my life. Well, in the last couple of years I've really started to reevaluate my belief system, and I've realized there are a lot of things about organized religion that I just can't buy into any longer. In fact, I think it's fair to say at this point that I've lost my faith. However, I know that my deconversion would shatter my very devout parents. Should I be honest with them about my doubts, or hold my tongue out of deference to their peace of mind?

Thanks for the question, Agnostic. As I slid my knife into the guard's belly, yanking upward and spilling his intestines as if I were dressing out a buck, I realized he wasn't much more than a child. A child with hopes, dreams, fears. A child with his first kiss, his first heartbreak, and so much more still ahead of him. A child who was dying now, all those dreams fading in the filthy pile of his own spilled entrails, just as the light was fading from his eyes. I thought I saw a brief flash of comprehension in those eyes, the realization of all that I was robbing from him, just before the darkness swallowed him in its cold and loveless embrace. Then he was gone. God wasn't there that day, my friend. Only me and that boy. I see his face some nights when I try to sleep. When the demons come. And deep down, I know he's the lucky one. Oblivion may be uncaring, but there are no nightmares there.

Boy, parents can be tough to talk to, can't they? :)


Tuesday, April 3, 2012

The Art of War

This week's entry again comes to us by way of Ryan Smith. Come on, people! You can't let Ryan do all the heavy lifting here! Anyway, he took up the challenge to create a poster for RAMBO VII: Night of the Were-Tiger, and he succeeded admirably. I have to say, giving that cat context doesn't make it any less terrifying.

Monday, April 2, 2012



Embarrassed in Edmonton asks: RAMBO, my friend sometimes gets really bad athlete's foot. He has tried all the over-the-counter creams and sprays but nothing works for him. Do you have any suggestions?

Dear Embarrassed. Setting a claymore mine is easy. Living with the consequences is the hard part. It's important to decide ahead of time your accepted level of collateral damage. Whether they be enemy sentries or merely innocent villagers just making a daily trip to the river for some water, claymores don't discriminate. If you're in the vicinity, the blast may deafen you, but it still won't drown out the screams of your victims. So before you set that mine and hunker down in the bush, ready to sweep up any survivors as they run terrified and confused in the aftermath, know this: That mine may be your only chance of making it out of this jungle alive, but it kills more than unsuspecting patrols. A little bit of your humanity dies too.

Change your socks often!
All the best,